“Such a tête-à-tête would only give our fathers an excuse for forcing the marriage.”
Bloody hell, she was as skittish as a yearling with its first halter. “Then we’ll take a groom. Of course, if you’re too much a coward to spend time with me alone…”
She bristled, as he’d known she would. “It has more to do with good sense than cowardice.”
A new voice came from the doorway. “What does?”
David bit back a curse. If his little brother didn’t watch it, he was going to find himself on the wrong side of a beating. “Nothing that concerns you, Giles.”
Before Giles could answer, the maid entered with a pot of tea for Charlotte. Then she started. “Begging your pardon, sirs, I didn’t realize the lady had company, or I would have brought more.”
“It’s fine, Molly,” David bit out as the maid came round the table to him. Flashing him a coy smile, she bent close enough that her bosom brushed his shoulder as she poured him a cup. When Charlotte scowled at her, David ground his teeth in irritation. Molly had become quite the little flirt lately. He would have to have a talk with the housekeeper.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” Molly said in a voice that left no question as to what she really wanted to offer him.
“No thank you,” he said. “That will be all.”
“I’d like some tea,” Charlotte said tersely.
“Of course, miss,” Molly said as she walked behind David to pass in front of Giles.
When David saw Giles brush his hand over Molly’s ass, he tensed. Thank God Charlotte couldn’t see it from where she sat, or it would only reinforce her opinion of them as a family of profligates.
After Molly left, Charlotte flashed Giles a friendly smile that rubbed David raw. “Your brother has asked me to go out riding for a picnic,” Charlotte said blithely. “Why don’t you join us?”
“Certainly,” said his imp of a brother.
“The bloody hell you will,” David ground out.
“Tsk, tsk,” Giles retorted. “Such language in front of a lady.”
David shot to his feet. “I have to go put on my riding coat.” He caught his brother by the arm as Giles attempted to pass. “And you’re going with me. Now.”
“But I haven’t eaten,” Giles protested as David dragged him toward the door.
“If you don’t come with me,” David growled in his brother’s ear, “you’ll be eating my fist.”
Giles grimaced, then glanced at Charlotte. “Excuse me, Miss Page. It seems my brother needs help putting on his riding coat.”
David ignored Giles’s snide remark, but couldn’t help noting the unease on Charlotte’s face. He halted near the door to pin her with a dark glance. “Stay here. Don’t you dare leave.”
She shot to her feet, eyes flashing. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll tell our fathers what we discussed in the garden shed.”
He regretted the threat when the blood drained from her face. But at least she sat down again.
“I’ll be right back,” he added, then hauled Giles out the door, shoving him toward the stairs.
As soon as they were near it, Giles wrenched himself free. “What the devil was all that about?”
“I want to spend time alone with Charlotte.” David hurried up the stairs as Giles struggled to keep up. “You are not going with us. Understood?”
“I thought you didn’t want to marry her,” Giles said peevishly.
“I haven’t decided. But having you around isn’t helping.” David strode into his bedchamber.
Giles came in behind him and sank into a chair. “You’d better decide fast. They’re leaving day after tomorrow. And judging from what she’s said about that damned cavalry officer, if you don’t secure her before they leave—”
An unaccountable jealousy seared him. “What has she said?”
“Enough to make it clear she’s hoping for an offer. I think she was trying to discourage me.” Giles chuckled. “As if I would settle for one chit’s field when there’s a whole world of females out there waiting to be plowed.”
Frowning at his brother’s crudeness, David peeled off his dressing gown. “Plow where you will, but I’m warning you now—don’t dally with the maids. A gentleman shouldn’t piss where he sleeps.”
Giles waggled his eyebrows. “I’m not planning on doing any pissing.”
“I mean it, Giles,” David ground out. “If I have to, I’ll go to Father about it.”
Giles collapsed into a sulk. “You can be such a stuffed shirt sometimes.”
How Charlotte would laugh to hear that. She thought he was a rogue through and through.
A rogue with no sense of fashion. David tossed his dressing gown at Giles. “Here, this ought to cheer you up. I don’t want it anymore.”
A laugh erupted from Giles. “I take it that Miss Page doesn’t like it.”
“She called it ‘garish,’” David admitted, still annoyed by how she’d laughed at him.
“And pleasing her means so much to you that you’ll get rid of your favorite dressing gown? Sounds to me as if you have decided about Miss Page.”
David said nothing as he dragged on his freshly pressed riding coat.
“I’d be careful if I were you,” Giles went on. “She’s not the kind of female you can toy with. If you don’t mean marriage, then—”
“Stay out of it, Giles. I know what I’m doing.”
But that was a lie. All he knew was he had to be alone with her again, get to know her, see if he’d lost his bloody mind by considering marrying her.
Half an hour later, as he and Charlotte rode out with the groom, he realized that his plan might prove harder than he’d thought. She had come along with ill grace, and she sat the bay mare like a haughty queen, her aloof facade firmly in place.
He fell back a little, as if to speak to the groom trailing behind them, but really so he could watch her ride. While he’d been arranging for the horses, she’d changed into a riding habit, and by God, she was fetching in it. At least he had his answer to what one part of her looked like, for her habit was nipped in at her natural waist. Her nicely slender, natural waist.
She was a fine rider, too, with a good seat, her body moving in perfect time with the horse’s gait. She looked as comfortable in the sidesaddle as on a settee.
“Now that you’ve bullied me into this,” she called back to David, “where are we going?”
“I didn’t bully you into anything.” He spurred the horse forward to take the lead, then turned down a path that led to one of the more secluded roads. “You like to ride, and you know it.”
“I still don’t see why Giles couldn’t come along,” she complained.
“Because it’s not a courtship if the two people never court.”
She shot him a startled look. Then, nervously glancing back at the groom listening to every word, she urged her mare closer to David’s black gelding. “It’s only a pretend courtship,” she said in a low voice.
Perhaps. Perhaps not. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. It’s a beautiful day, and we’ve got a whole estate to explore. Try to enjoy it, will you?”
They rode a few moments in an uncomfortable silence. Then David asked, “How do you find your mount?”
“Perfect,” she muttered.
His hands tightened on the reins. “You don’t sound pleased.”
She sighed, then patted the mare’s withers as if to reassure the creature. “Oh, but I am. She has enough spirit to be enjoyable, but a yielding temperament that makes for pleasant riding.”
“So why the long face?”
Fixing her gaze on the path ahead, she squirmed in the saddle. “I’m just…annoyed that you knew precisely what sort of horse to pick for me.”
“You hate not being the only one with a good eye for horses, don’t you?” he teased, determined to lighten her mood.
A small smile curved her lips. “Exactly.”
But that wasn’t the real reason for her an
noyance. The chit didn’t want to approve of anything he did, yet she couldn’t help herself sometimes. Thank God.
The path suddenly opened out into a long road between two fields of barley. At the end stood a forest they used to play in as children. David flashed her a challenging smile. “Want to race to the woods?”
She eyed the dirt road, then him. “Only if you promise not to call me a nasty name when I win.”
“I promise.” He grinned. “But you’re not going to win.” And with that, he goaded his mount into a run.
She followed him with surprising speed, impressing him with her skill. But she’d pricked his pride already once this morning. He meant to show her that he wasn’t the lecherous twit she took him for, who dressed badly and spent his days lolling about in luxurious debauchery. He rode to win, putting every bit of his horsemanship to the test.
She nearly bested him anyway. But just as they neared the part of the road that bisected the forest, David pushed his gelding to his limits and thundered past the line of trees ahead of her. With a laugh of pure triumph, he pulled up and turned toward her in the saddle. “Good show,” he said, trying not to gloat.
“I see you gave yourself the faster horse,” she grumbled.
He laughed at her, not the least daunted by her ill humor. “Why, Charlotte Page, you’re as bad a loser as I am.”
Her irate gaze shot to him, and she opened her mouth as if to protest. Then she gave a weak laugh. “I suppose that’s true. I despise losing.”
“Good of you to admit it,” he said as she continued down the road. He pulled his gelding into step beside her. “Feel free to call me a nasty name if that will make you feel better. I hear that Monkey is taken, but you could try, oh, Garish Goer. Or Mr. Fast and Loose. Or…Wait, I have the perfect one: the Debauched Devil.”
“Perfect?” Her brows arched high. “You’d consider that one a compliment. You and your friends, strutting about, bragging of your wickedness.”
“I never brag. Don’t need to.” He grinned over at her. “My wickedness is self-evident.”
She laughed outright. “I swear, you’re incorrigible, Mr. Masters.”
Delighted that he’d made her laugh at last, he pushed his success further. “Come now, can’t you call me David? Surely even your pretend fiancé deserves that.”
“My pretend fiancé is stretching the rules of propriety,” she chided, then gave him a pretty smile that took the sting off her refusal.
They rode awhile in companionable silence. He surreptitiously checked his pocket watch. Surely he’d given the servants enough time to do as he’d ordered last night. He couldn’t wait to see how Charlotte liked his surprise.
When they reached a certain small clearing near the road, he stopped and dismounted, motioning the groom to come forward for the horses. “I have something to show you,” David told Charlotte as he helped her down.
“Oh?”
Now came the dicey part. He offered her his arm, which she took. Then he nodded to the groom, who gathered the reins of their two horses and started leading them back down the road.
“Where is he going?” she asked.
“I told him we’d walk back.” With her hand firmly tucked in the crook of his arm, he headed for the woods.
“Mr. Masters—” she said, dragging her heels a bit.
“Charlotte, you’re safe with me, I promise.”
There was a moment when he was half-afraid she might run after the groom to retrieve her horse, or even set off alone on foot to the house.
When she didn’t, he exulted. From here, everything would be smooth sailing. Because he finally had Charlotte to himself.
But as they crossed through the woods and the sounds of rushing water began to trickle through to them, she dragged her feet again. “Have I been here before?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. We used to play here. Don’t you remember?”
They came close enough to the edge of the wood to see the Thames beyond. He wondered if she remembered Saddle Island in the middle, so called because of its unusual shape. It had been forbidden to them as children. Now it boasted a gazebo. And a lavish picnic luncheon set out earlier by the servants.
She dug her fingers into his arm. Apparently she did recall it. But when he glanced at her face, expecting surprise or pleasure, she was pale as a ghost.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, a strange note of panic in her voice.
He led them toward the boat moored at a little landing on the bank. “We’re going over to the island for a picnic.”
Abruptly, she dropped his arm. “We most certainly are not. I’m heading back.”
Confound it all, why was she turning skittish again? He thought they’d put that behind them.
Gathering up her skirts, she rushed back to the woods at a near run.
“Don’t be absurd,” David cried as he hurried after her. “We’re not coming out all this way just to return without even seeing Saddle Island.” He grabbed her about the waist from behind, meaning only to stop her, but she struggled wildly against him.
Did she think he meant to ravish her out there? What sort of man did she believe him to be? “Calm down, it’s merely a picnic, I swear. There’s no need for this—”
“You can’t make me get in that boat!” she cried. “I won’t do it! Let me go!”
There was something more to this, something odd. “Charlotte, you’re being—”
“He told you, didn’t he?” She pried frantically at his arm.
“Who told me what? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
When she twisted in his arms to face him, he saw, to his shock, the tears streaming down her face.
“Stop pretending! I know Papa must have told you. I know that’s why you’re doing this.” She grabbed his lapels. “Please don’t make me go out on the river, I beg you! I-I’ll do whatever you want, whatever he wants. Just don’t—”
“Shh, sweeting, shh, I won’t make you do anything, I promise,” he murmured, gathering her close. “I swear your father told me nothing!”
He chanted it as he held her tight, trying to calm her. His heart ached to hear her sobbing. Too late he understood. Her fear had nothing to do with being alone with him. It had to do with the river.
“It’s all right,” he assured her over and over. “You’re safe. We won’t go anywhere near the water, I swear.”
Oh, God, what had he done? He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He certainly hadn’t meant to reduce her to this.
Somewhere in the maelstrom of her fear, his words must have sunk in, for she stopped fighting his embrace. But now she was shaking violently, and that alarmed him. Dropping onto the grassy bank, he dragged her down with him so he could cradle her in his lap, soothe her with strokes of his hands, hold her close.
It took several moments to halt her tears, and several more to calm her enough so she stopped shaking.
When he was sure she was more her normal self, he drew back to cup her face in his hands. “Feel better?” he asked softly.
Her eyes were red and swollen. “Actually, I…feel a bit of a fool.”
“No need.” Pressing her head to his chest, he stroked her hair. “I’m sorry. I had no idea, or I would never have—”
“I know,” she mumbled into his damp coat. “I see that now.”
“It was just a stupid surprise. I thought you’d like going out to the island for a picnic.”
She uttered a harsh laugh. “Little did you know you were setting out with a lunatic.”
“Not a lunatic. But I would like to know why—”
“I go mad at the sight of a boat on the river?” she finished for him.
Ignoring her self-deprecating tone, he pressed a kiss into her hair. “You used to play in the water with the older children all the time. When did that change? How did it change?”
“If I tell you, you’ll laugh at me,” she whispered.
“No.” He settled her more comfortably in his lap. “I promise I
won’t.”
Turning a wary gaze up to him, she searched his face. “And you won’t make me go out on the river?”
A lump caught in his throat. “No.” He brushed the hair back from her tear-streaked face. “Not if you don’t want.”
“Don’t want?” She tried for a laugh and failed. “I would rather chew needles.”
He fished out his handkerchief and offered it to her. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes.
“It happened the winter I was nine, when we still lived near here. There’d been a storm, and the Thames was swollen and very swift. Mama and I were walking beside it when my favorite bonnet flew into it. Before she could react, I rushed in after my bonnet.”
David could see the fear rising again in her face, though he felt helpless to banish it.
“The current swept me off. I-I struggled, but I didn’t know how to swim, and the water was so powerful. Our footman dove in after me, but I’d already been carried quite a ways.”
Her chest rose and fell with her quickening breaths. “For a while it was a near thing. The water was churning, and I went under, dragged down by my wool skirts. The footman lost sight of me—I don’t know for how long. All I remember is the horrible panic of not being able to breathe, of knowing I was about to die.”
A shudder wracked her, and he rubbed her back, wishing he could do more.
“I must have lost consciousness. When I came to, I was lying on the bank, and my chest hurt from someone pressing against it, forcing the water from my lungs. Mama was bending over me, and the footman’s teeth were chattering from his dunking in the icy waters.”
Good God, she’d nearly died! His heart stopped just to think of it. “I hope your father rewarded him well for saving your life.”
She flashed David a wan smile. “The footman retired from service on what Mama gave him alone. Opened a cook shop in Reading, I believe.”
“And you’ve been afraid of the river ever since?”
“Lakes, rivers…” She swallowed. “The ocean gives me nightmares. I start…seeing it all again, feeling the panic, the searing pain of the water entering my lungs just before I passed out. I even tense up when I go over bridges.” A ragged sigh escaped her. “I know it’s irrational and silly—”
The School for Heiresses: 'Wed Him Before You Bed Him Page 6