The Wicked Baron

by Sarah Mallory

  She curled her lip. ‘You are called the Wicked Baron; much is expected of you.’

  He came closer and Carlotta stepped back until she felt the window pressing against her shoulders.

  ‘Then I am afraid I must disappoint you,’ he murmured.

  He was less than arm’s length from her and Carlotta forced herself not to move.

  ‘I am not afraid of you.’

  She was rigid with nerves, and her voice shook a little. Luke’s teeth gleamed, but she could discern no humour in his look, no softening of those harsh features.

  ‘Well, you should be. You should be very afraid.’

  He reached out and placed his fingers on her shoulder, then drew them down along the embroidered neckline of her dress. Carlotta’s nerves were stretched to breaking. At his touch her breasts tightened and rose. Against her will they were inviting his caresses. She clenched her hands, digging the nails into the palms. She wanted to run, but some instinct told her that such an action would inflame an already dangerous situation.

  ‘If—if you try to kiss me, I shall scream.’

  He came even closer. Carlotta fought down the urge of her wayward body to close the gap, to lean forward and press herself against him. His eyes held hers and she knew he would see her fear reflected in them. She could not breathe; Luke, too, was taut as a bowstring, the atmosphere between them so brittle only one wrong word could shatter their control and that, she knew, would be disastrous. They gazed at one another, Luke towering over her, dark and menacing. Carlotta’s lips parted as he leaned towards her. Her head tilted; unable to prevent it, she was offering him her mouth to kiss. Then, when it seemed inevitable, when her very being was screaming to feel his mouth against hers, he stepped back and gave a little laugh.

  ‘Oh, no, Carlotta, you shall not have the pleasure of my embraces again: that time is past.’ His words, the cold tone, hit her like icy water. She leaned back against the window, the cold glass on her skin the only link with reality as he continued. ‘But I shall watch your progress, my dear, and if you should manage to catch a rich husband, perhaps I shall disclose what delights await him. And you were delightful, my dear, that one time at Malberry.’

  She ran her tongue across her dry lips. ‘W-we did nothing wrong.’

  His smile grew, but it was as cold as the moonlight. ‘You were alone, at night, in an empty house with the Wicked Baron—do you think any man would believe I did nothing more than kiss you?’ He took her chin between his thumb and fingers and forced her to look at him. ‘You know I am right, my dear.’

  Angrily she knocked his hand away. ‘I know nothing of the sort!’

  ‘Believe that if you want to, Carlotta, but I know enough about you to ruin your chances of making a good match.’

  ‘Then you are wicked indeed, my lord.’

  He merely laughed, turned on his heel and walked away. Shivering uncontrollably, Carlotta sank down against the window and wrapped her arms about her.

  Luke strode back through the corridor, wondering what had come over him. He had grown used to jesting and teasing during his years in the army, so why had Carlotta’s little barbs cut so deeply? He had loved and lost other women in the past and it had never been difficult to put them behind him, to see them again without a flicker of remorse. He had thought he could do the same with Carlotta, once he realised that she was intent upon finding herself a rich husband. And he had resolved to stay away from her, a resolve that had lasted only until their very next meeting! As he stepped back into the crowded reception room, he swore fluently under his breath. He would never forget the look of haughty disdain on her face the first time they had met in town, her taunts regarding his lack of fortune, but even that had not killed his feeling for her. It was seeing her at Vauxhall, behaving like any wanton in that darkened arbour with Daniel Woollatt that finally convinced him she was not the sweet innocent child he had left at Malberry.

  Her behaviour this evening had been calculated to anger him, like the bitter reaction of a spurned woman, but that did not make sense—she had spurned him, telling him he was not remotely rich enough to be a contender for her hand. Yet her jibes were like a gauntlet thrown down between them. He knew he should have ignored her challenge and allowed himself to enjoy the charms of Mrs Daniels, but he could not. He had followed Carlotta through the crowded rooms and out into that bare, moon-soaked room.

  His anger flared again as he remembered her standing before him, haughty and defiant. When he had moved close to her, smelled the familiar, flowery perfume, he had found her hard to resist. He saw again her face turned up to his, the dainty features so perfect, the mouth so kissable. He had been tempted. She was enticing, bewitching, almost irresistible. His muttered ‘excuse me’ as he pushed through the dancers was very nearly a snarl and earned for him several angry looks, but it mattered not as long as they moved out of his way. He had to get out; he needed peace and quiet to regain his self-control and work out just what it was about Carlotta that roused him to such fury.

  And after that, he needed to decide just what he was going to do about it.

  Chapter Six

  The confrontation with Luke unnerved Carlotta and she pleaded a slight chill for the next few days until she could face the world again. Lady Broxted was very understanding.

  ‘Poor lamb, but it is not unexpected,’ she said, visiting Carlotta’s bedchamber. ‘We have been very busy of late, and a number of our friends remarked that you seemed pale and distracted when they were taking their leave of you at Lady Yatebury’s. You shall keep to your bed for a little while.’ She smiled, patting Carlotta’s hand as it lay upon the bedcovers. ‘I shall cancel our engagements for this week; you must be well for our little soirée.’

  But as the day drew nearer it became clear to Carlotta that Lady Broxted’s ‘little soirée’ was going to be a major event. On the eve of the party she went to find her aunt, to offer her some assistance. She found her in the morning room, surrounded by papers and making her final arrangements.

  ‘But, Aunt, you cannot possibly wish to invite all these people,’ objected Carlotta, gazing in awe at a list of guests that ran over several sheets of paper. ‘You said we were to have a snug little evening—how will you find room for so many?’

  ‘Dear child, this is only half the guests!’ Lady Broxted twitched the papers from her fingers and looked at them with satisfaction. ‘I think we can be sure that most of them will come; I am renowned for my parties, you know. We shall open up both the saloons and set out supper in the dining room. And if it stays dry, we shall also be able to open up the long doors to the terrace and hang lanterns around the garden. We shall have to bring in extra staff for the kitchens, of course, and we shall need more link boys in the square…’

  Carlotta was not listening. One of the sheets had floated to the floor and she scooped it up, her smile dying away as she scanned the names. ‘Dear ma’am, surely there is no need to invite Lord Darvell.’

  ‘Of course he must be invited. It is unlikely that he will come, however, for he is a great favourite in town and always in great demand. And since he has shown no inclination to fix his interest with you, he may well consider my little gathering far too tame.’

  Carlotta clung on to that thought. There must be far more exciting things for a wild young baron to do in London. Besides, he had made it perfectly clear that he despised her.

  No, she decided it was most unlikely that he would come.

  ‘I am beyond doubt the most contrary young woman in the world!’

  Carlotta gazed at her reflection gloomily. She had no wish to set eyes on Luke Ainslowe ever again, but she had a great desire that he should see her now that she was looking her best. The thought that he might not attend her aunt’s soirée was just too galling.

  Jarvis, Lady Broxted’s dresser, had spent a great deal of time arranging Carlotta’s hair and the result was very pleasing. Tiny apricot-coloured rosebuds nestled amongst her dark curls and matched the roses embroidered around
the flounced hem of her rich cream satin evening gown. An overdress of fine white net gave an ethereal, shimmering quality to her skirts and she executed a few dance steps before her mirror, watching the effect.

  ‘Very pretty, miss, I’m sure,’ said Jarvis, surveying her with a professional eye. ‘We could wish that your complexion was whiter—perhaps a little powder…’

  ‘No, no powder, thank you, Jarvis, I am quite happy with my colour. I inherited it from my Italian father.’

  Jarvis tutted.

  ‘Hush, Miss Carlotta,’ she said, bending to straighten the hem of Carlotta’s gown. ‘You know her ladyship does not want you to be saying such things, especially tonight.’

  ‘No.’ Carlotta sighed. ‘She wants everyone to think me a very English young lady.’

  ‘Aye, she does, and English young ladies do not jig about in front of the mirror! Now, pray you keep still, miss, while I tuck away this stray curl…There, that’s better. Off you go and join her ladyship, for your guests will be arriving any moment.’

  Carlotta picked up her fan and ran down the stairs to join her aunt. She found her on the landing, at the top of the curling staircase that led up from the entrance hall. She glowed with pleasure when Lady Broxted exclaimed how well she looked, and took her place beside her as the first of their guests was announced. At first Carlotta found it exciting, watching the ladies come in, arrayed in satins, silks and muslins, their tassels and ostrich plumes nodding as they made their way up the stairs. The gentlemen were dressed more soberly, mostly in coats of black or dark blue with knee breeches or pantaloons, but there was an occasional splash of colour as a military man made his appearance in his regimentals. A few of the guests she had met already, such as Mr and Mrs Price and their daughter, but many were strangers, and her head was soon buzzing with names and faces that she feared she would not remember. Mr Woollatt arrived just as the orchestra was tuning up. He immediately launched into an apology.

  ‘My dear Lady Broxted, I would have been here sooner, but my steward has arrived from the country and I was obliged to see him.’ He bowed low over Lady Broxted’s gloved hand. ‘As a matter of fact, I wanted to be one of your first guests,’ he continued, bowing gallantly to Carlotta, ‘to make sure of the first two dances with Miss Rivington.’

  Carlotta blushed and began to repeat the argument she had already used for several other gentlemen that evening. ‘You are very kind, sir, but I shall not be dancing for some time. As you see, I must greet our guests—’

  Lady Broxted interrupted her. ‘Nonsense, child. All but a very few stragglers are here now. You have done your duty, no one expects you to stay here for ever.’ She gave Carlotta a beaming smile. ‘Take her away, Mr Woollatt. Carlotta’s first two dances are free, so you shall be her reward for showing such patience.’

  Reading the triumph in her aunt’s smile Carlotta suspected that she had planned this. There was nothing for it but to accompany Mr Woollatt and take her place amongst the dancers.

  Luke arrived at Broxted House with his brother and sister-in-law just as the first set of dances was ending. Lady Broxted had left her post at the head of the stairs, but as they entered the saloon she hurried across to greet them.

  ‘Apologies for being late, ma’am,’ said James, bowing over her hand. ‘If Adele had not taken so long choosing her gown, we would have been here a good hour since.’

  Adele gave him a playful tap with her fan. ‘You will not blame it all upon me, James—admit that you could not tie your neckcloth!’

  He grinned. ‘I will admit nothing, especially in front of my brother here.’

  Luke managed a faint smile. He wished he had not agreed to come, but Lady Broxted was smiling at him, holding out her hand and welcoming him. There was no escape now.

  ‘Since you are all three acquainted with my niece, then you have missed nothing.’ She smiled and added with a touch of pride, ‘Except, gentlemen, that I quite fear that she is engaged for every dance.’

  Luke looked across the room at Carlotta, who was at the centre of a laughing, chattering crowd of young people.

  ‘That is definitely a severe loss, ma’am,’ he said politely.

  He resisted Lady Broxted’s attempts to introduce him to any other young lady, and when Adele went off with her hostess the two brothers retired to a quiet corner. Luke tried to ignore James’s quizzical glance, but his brother took his arm.

  ‘Out with it, Luke—what is the meaning of this long face you are showing the world? You have been quite distracted recently, refused several invitations to dine with us—why, man you have all but given up gambling! If I did not know you so well I’d think you were in love.’

  Luke felt the flush mantling his cheeks. ‘Nothing so foolish!’ he growled.

  James gave a crack of laughter. ‘Oho! So it is a woman,’ he exclaimed. ‘What happened, did she turn you down? That must be a new experience for you.’

  ‘Go soak your head, James! Just because you are head over heels in love with Adele, pray do not think it happens to everyone.’

  ‘Well, it should. I have never been so happy, which makes me want you to be happy, too. So tell me what is the matter.’

  Not for the world could Luke tell his younger brother about Carlotta. He was not about to admit that any woman could fill his thoughts night and day.

  ‘I have been looking at the accounts for Darvell Manor.’

  ‘Depressing, are they?’

  ‘Damnably so.’

  ‘My offer of a loan still stands, brother—’

  ‘No, it is not as bad as that. Not yet. I wish, though, that our father had told me the true state of affairs, I could have helped him.’

  ‘He was too proud to admit that he had spent your inheritance, Luke. He always thought he could win it all back at the gaming tables.’

  ‘Instead of which he lost even more.’ Luke sighed. ‘When Father died, I should have sold out, taken control of the estate, looked after you—’

  James put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It was too daunting a task for a young man of one-and-twenty. No one blamed you for going back to what you knew, to the army. And you found enough money to make me a generous allowance—we should not forget that.’

  ‘But if I had begun the improvements then, five years ago, I could have been a wealthy man by now—or at least comfortable!’

  ‘Aye, but would you have been happy, working your land while your comrades faced Bonaparte without you?’

  Luke sighed. ‘No, you are right, James. I would not have missed Waterloo for the world. I could not have forgiven myself. But now—’

  ‘Now you need to take charge of your affairs, Luke. Send that rascally agent of yours to the right about.’

  ‘I already have. In fact, I have put in motion a number of improvements at the Manor and must go back there soon.’

  ‘Go where?’ asked Adele, coming up at that moment.

  ‘To Darvell. My estates need proper management.’

  ‘But you are not going immediately?’ She laid a hand on his arm. ‘You promised to come back to Malberry with us.’

  He gave her a wry smile. ‘Yes, I did. And I shall come with you, you have my word.’

  ‘Good, you will be able to see my new Tiepolo,’ murmured James.

  ‘The one Mattingwood gave you in payment of his gambling debts?’

  ‘That’s right. I sent a man down with it yesterday. I’m going to hang it in the library.’

  ‘And we are gathering any number of people to join us at Malberry for the summer,’ added Adele.

  ‘Aye, well, make sure there are some uncommonly pretty ladies amongst the guests, my love,’ said James, grinning. ‘We need to provide my brother with plenty of distraction, for I think he is nursing a broken heart!’

  The rooms were crowded and noisy. A sign, thought Carlotta, that the party would be deemed a success. Once it was realised that Miss Rivington was no longer busy greeting her guests, a flattering number of gentlemen began vying for her attention
. Carlotta had no illusions about the attraction; her uncle had made no secret of the fact that he would make a generous settlement upon her marriage, and most of her dance partners were single gentlemen like Sir Gilbert Mattingwood, eager to improve their acquaintance with Lord Broxted’s protégée. She was amused, therefore, when Lord Fairbridge claimed his dance with her. She saw his eyes following Julia, who was further down the line, partnered by a handsome soldier with bushy side-whiskers. After a half-dance of stilted attempts at conversation she was prompted to protest.

  ‘My lord, would you not rather be dancing with Miss Price? Pray tell me truthfully,’ she said, her eyes twinkling, ‘I promise you I shall not be offended.’

  The viscount looked at her, alarmed, but her smile reassured him. He gave her an apologetic grin.

  ‘She has promised me another dance after supper,’ he confessed. ‘To be seen dancing together more often would give rise to gossip.’

  ‘It would indeed,’ she agreed cordially. ‘And so you must dance with all the other young ladies in the meantime.’

  ‘Yes.’

  His affirmation was so wistful that Carlotta almost burst out laughing. As the dance ended she gave him a speculative look.

  ‘If you would prefer, we could sit out this next dance, my lord.’

  ‘Could we?’ he gazed at her hopefully.

  Stifling a giggle, Carlotta took his hand and led him to the edge of the room and out through one of the long windows to the terrace.

  ‘So many people and so much chatter, it is not conducive to conversation,’ she told him as they stepped out into the lamp-lit garden. ‘So, have you made an offer for Julia?’

  Her direct question made him stutter.

  ‘N-no. M-my mother thought it w-would be best if we waited until the end of the Season.’

  Carlotta remembered being presented to Lady Fairbridge earlier in the evening—a colourless little woman with a small, rosebud mouth and arching eyebrows that gave her a look of permanent surprise. She had been very gracious, but in the manner of one bestowing a great honour, and Carlotta thought it unlikely that the viscountess would consider a mere Miss Price to be a suitable bride for her son.