by Corwin, Amy
The Archers might argue and scold one another, but they were there when needed. And John Archer wanted her to know she, too, had a family now.
And Miss Haywood, Charlotte, thought she had no one….
Perhaps Archer’s idea was kinder than Nathaniel had previously thought. The Archers could give her a comfortable haven for three years. When she gained control of her fortune, she could then decide what course she wished to pursue.
“Char—Miss Haywood, I would like to discuss an arrangement….”
She stiffened slightly but Nathaniel exerted himself to be charming. He used to excel at that art when he had no title and an ardent interest in wooing disinterested women. His skills were tarnished since he no longer had to work to attract female attention, but he thought he remembered the rudiments.
With a hand firmly in the middle of her back, he guided her to the far corner of the terrace. There was a pale pink rose there, just starting to bloom. He could smell the rich damask fragrance. Pale starlight illuminated a few of the flowers, draining their color and turning them a ghostly white against the dark plum sky.
In that sweetly scented corner stood a marble bench, partly hidden by the rose on one side and a boxwood topiary on the other.
“What sort of arrangement?” she asked in a tired voice.
“Please, Miss Haywood, pray be seated.”
She cast a quick glance at him, her face still shadowed. He smiled, hoping she could actually see his expression and would interpret it as guileless. It felt rather wolf-like to him. He tried to believe what he was about to do was entirely innocent. He had the best of intentions.
Didn’t he?
“The arrangement is…. Well—” he said, trying to find a delicate way of asking her to marry him without actually implying he wanted to marry her.
She half-stood, but he pressed her back down on the bench. When she resisted, he wrapped his arm around her waist and placed his free hand over the hands she had clasped in her lap. Her fingers were cold despite the balmy air. They twisted beneath his palm.
“As I already stated, I only wish to go to Egypt as soon as possible,” she said, staring down at his hand. “Unless your ‘arrangement’ relates to that, I don’t know I care to hear it.”
“It does relate…in a way,” he assured her.
“In what way?”
“Well, you are going to be gone in three years—”
“That does not, I believe, require any arrangements between the two of us. I will be gone in three years no matter what you do or don’t do.” Her voice became tart, as if she suspected he was about to tease her regarding her ambitions.
He bent closer, trying to catch her gaze. Her eyes stayed stubbornly focused on the darkness a few feet beyond their bower. After a final squeeze on her clenched fingers, he gripped her chin to force her to face him.
“Please let me go,” she said abruptly, pulling away.
“I just want you to look at me.”
Her eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t let go. Her eyes glimmered a deep, rich blue in the dim light. Her skin was soft and warm beneath his fingertips. As he studied her, her glance flickered away under the intensity of his gaze. He could feel her trying to twist away again. Before he could frame what he wanted to say, he gave in to impulse. He bent his head and brushed her lips with his.
Her back stiffened. Her mouth opened slightly as if she gasped at his boldness. Her reaction somehow spurred him on.
The challenge of chasing a reluctant quarry.
He felt hungry—almost starving and dangerous because of that hunger. The almost-forgotten scent and feel of a woman in his arms tantalized him. He tightened his arm around her waist, the warmth of her body pulling him forward. He drew her more firmly against him and slid his hand over the smooth skin of her jaw and throat into the soft curls at the nape of her neck.
Hands pressed against his chest, she pushed against him, and then the magic happened. One cool hand slipped up his waistcoat and paused timorously at his collar. He deepened the kiss, her lips warming and opening to him. Her fingers trembled as they touched his neck.
He groaned, pulling her tighter until her thighs bumped over his, fleetingly touching him….
The tentative touch on his cheek suddenly vanished. A cool burst of air flowed over his face. He drew back slightly and a whooshing blow hit his left ear.
“What are you doing?” Charlotte asked, her voice outraged. She leapt up and faced him. Her left hand remained cupped and partially raised, ready to box his ear again.
“Nothing! I am….” He rubbed his throbbing ear.
What the devil did she think he was doing?
“You are a duke! I suppose you thought you could just do as you please and I would swoon at your feet!”
“Good God, no! I thought no such thing!”
“Then precisely what were you thinking?”
“Nothing!”
“Well, that much is obvious.” Her menacing hand dropped to her hip. To his dismay, she sighed. Even in the dim light, he could see her shoulders slump. “I suppose this was the ‘arrangement’ you wanted to discuss. You thought I would not mind having a—well, being intim—ah, that is…. Well, you know best what you thought,” she stuttered. “I suppose I ought to be grateful for your kindness in thinking of me in that way, particularly since you knew of my desire to travel to Egypt. My departure would be a convenient way to end our—that is, whatever relationship we should happen to have. That is—assuming anything would occur between the two of us. And that it would last three entire years….” her words stumbled to a halt.
“I did not intend—”
“Oh, I am sure you did not think of it in quite those terms. In fact, you are such a nice man I am absolutely convinced you thought you would be doing me a favor in providing me with an escort to various functions. Not the best functions, of course—but certain functions where women of that sort are allowed.
“Well, I might believe in equality and independence, but I am not a raving lunatic. I have no intention of becoming your mistress so you can conveniently be rid of me three years hence without even having to provide me with the obligatory bracelet. Or worry about meeting me when you’ve another lady on your arm.”
Nathaniel stood. Before she could escape, he grabbed her shoulders. He only meant to bring her into the light to see her face more clearly, but she kicked him quite firmly in the shins.
“Damn it!” he exclaimed, tightening his grip.
“Take your hands off of me, you—you rake!”
“I will have you know, I am not a rake! In fact, I am a well-known misogynist. Ask anyone. You women are a menace and a plague upon mankind. Always jumping out—”
“That certainly explains your behavior, you beast. I suppose you felt you could seduce me and make love to me. Then you would laugh and thrust me toward Egypt, making me realize what a fool I had been. You thought you could prove I am merely a simple-minded representative of the weaker sex. That I only want to be loved like all the other blond-haired, petite, simpering, idiotic women of your acquaintance! That should appeal to a misogynist rake! Well, how dare you!” Her muddled words almost made sense. She paused after speaking, nodded abruptly, and glared into his eyes.
“I thought no such thing. And I am not a misogynist rake. In fact, I was going to ask you to marry me!”
“Marry you? I don’t even know you! Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“Yes! I believe I have! I cannot understand why I thought this would be such a wonderful idea, but there you are.”
“You are quite insane.” Charlotte declared.
“What?” He couldn’t help a small chuckle. “You are entirely wrong, by the way. I am only slightly mad.”
She stared at him, but the shadows prevented him from reading her expression. Then her shoulders quivered and she raised her hand to her mouth. A small, breathless giggle broke the silence.
His heart lifted. Her laughter bubbled deep within her and her e
ntire body quivered with mirth. The joyful sound made him smile in response.
“This is absurd,” she said, her voice shaking in amusement. “Have you any notion how utterly nonsensical you sound?”
“Yes, I do. Let me start again.”
She tried to push his hands off her shoulders, but he didn’t let go. “Let me go,” she said.
“No. You are going to listen to me—and don’t even consider kicking me again.”
“If you were a gentleman, you would release me.”
He shook his head. “Have we not already established that I am not a gentleman? I am a duke.”
“And you believe you can do as you please.”
“No. In fact, it means just the opposite. I almost never get to do what I please. I must do what everyone expects of me, instead.” He frowned at his words, wishing he had stayed silent.
What was wrong with him? He wanted to sit back down on the marble bench, put his head in her lap, and gaze at the stars twinkling above them. He wanted her to thread her cool fingers through his hair and bend over him….
Charlotte gripped his wrists as if to control his hands. His grin grew wolfish as he considered where he’d like his hands to go.
Next to him, her body curved gracefully, long and slender in the moonlight.
“Well, I can honestly say I did not expect to be mauled when I came out here,” she replied.
“And I did not expect to maul you, but you were exceedingly tempting.”
“I am not, nor have I ever been, tempting.”
“That shows you what you know, sapskull.” He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.
Half a giggle escaped. He breathed again and smiled. Her shoulders shook beneath his grip and his muscles ached to pull her against him. He wanted to feel the warm length of her against him while she vibrated with laughter. If she tilted her head up slightly, her smiling lips would be mere inches away….
“Your Awful Wickedness,” she said, her voice shaky with laughter. “If you are through insulting me, I believe we should return. Otherwise, you will be horribly compromised and gain an entirely undeserved reputation for an intelligence inappropriate to your social station.”
“Wait,” he replied, his voice suddenly serious. “I did want to ask you something. It will be to both our benefits.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. You must have noticed that I am, well, I never get a moment’s peace. Surely, if you are going to be gone in three years, you would not mind. It would help me tremendously to be free to investigate this wretched murder.” He stopped abruptly. He needed to explain it in a more appealing light. “Would it not be jolly to have the status—if you don’t mind referring to it that way? I mean, you would be courted and invited everywhere. Damn it, that is not how I intended to propose.”
“I should sincerely hope not!” He could tell she meant to make her tone frosty. But her efforts fell short of the mark and simply sounded rather miserable.
“Let me explain,” he said.
“I would rather you didn’t. Really. I think it best if you did not explain what you meant by that extraordinary speech. I cannot believe that your explanation will make it any better.”
“But, I—”
“No.” She laid her cool fingers against his mouth.
He grabbed her hand and pressed her palm against his lips, as desperate as a drowning man who has missed catching the last rope flung out to save him. The waves crashed over his head. He could see his fair ship sailing out of sight beyond the horizon. “Charlotte—”
“No. I know what you wanted so don’t insult me, or yourself, by stating it. You are tired and perhaps overwrought, trying to prove your innocence.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I have certainly read enough about it in the papers.
“But have you considered how awful it would be if you suddenly found yourself truly in love?” she continued. “How would you explain it to her? Besides, I am going to persuade the Archers to manage my inheritance for me and permit me to travel to Egypt now. It is what I’ve always wanted to do. It is where I intend to go. If I must hire a duenna to accompany me, then so be it, but I will go. Now, if you will excuse me, we really have tarried too long. I fear for your reputation.”
“Charlotte, I—”
“No, Your Grace. You are a duke. I cannot live in your stratified world and don’t wish to. Release me and be glad I did not accept your extraordinary offer.”
“Will you—will you at least do me the honor of remembering to call me on occasion by a more appropriate honorific? Your Mindless Exaltedness, perhaps?”
She laughed and stepped out of his grip. “If you forget yourself, then yes, indeed. I will be delighted.”
Chapter Fourteen
Seduction is not a criminal offence, but civil proceedings may be taken by the parent. — Constable’s Pocket Guide
“Miss, shouldn’t you ought to be getting ready?” the abigal asked Charlotte the next morning. “Lady Victoria will be awaitin’ ye in the hall.”
“What?” Charlotte asked, still dreaming of Nathaniel’s kiss the previous night.
What had he been thinking? Just because he knew she had no intention of getting married didn’t mean she would be willing to agree to a false engagement.
However, the newspapers were certainly painting him in a grim light. They hinted he had murdered Lady Anne because he hated women.
Could it be that he tried to propose to Charlotte to prove the rumors false? It seemed a possible explanation although it was not a particularly flattering one. If she had been idiotic enough to agree, their arrangement would only have ended with her looking the fool. When she left for Egypt, Society would think she was fleeing England because the duke had broken her heart. They would never believe her real reason: the culmination of an eight-year old dream.
Worse yet, what if he fell in love with some fair-haired lady? He would have to end the engagement early and again, Charlotte would be left to face society as the jilted betrothed. Not that she cared, but she didn’t have any particularly burning desire to suffer such a humiliation.
So the duke would just have to find another method to hide his dislike for women, and Charlotte would have to be very careful in the future. It would be so easy to give in and do what he wanted. But it was not what she desired. She wanted to go to Egypt, preferably with her heart and reputation intact.
“Miss? Are you ready for your walk?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.” She pulled on the dark brown bombast and allowed the abigal to button her up and place a straw bonnet with ivy and rose trim on her head.
When she finally descended the stairs, she found the hallway quite deserted. Charlotte swept around the table in the center and paused. She adjusted the bouquet of late spring flowers and picked out a few dead leaves before she was interrupted.
“Miss?” the butler bowed to her, holding out a small silver salver. On it rested a black-edged envelope. It looked like an announcement of death, but she had no relatives left.
She picked up the card and deposited a fistful of withered leaves on the salver. The butler’s bushy brows rose, but he turned solemnly away with his new burden.
Charlotte opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet.
The patronesses of Almack’s regret to inform Miss Charlotte Haywood that they are unable to extend an invitation to attend this Season’s remaining entertainments.
Her numb fingers released the letter. The sheet fluttered down to the table while Charlotte stared at the floor with unseeing eyes. She had forgotten Lady Victoria had applied for entrance to Almack’s. Why had not she listened? The idea was ridiculous, particularly since the season was nearing a close.
Her eyelids fluttered over her burning eyes. She pressed her fingertips against her closed eyes and sniffed. Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe. Her chest ached painfully.
No matter what she did, she wasn’t acceptable.
“Charlotte?” Lady Victoria asked from the middle of the stairw
ay. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She straightened her back and took a deep breath, waiting patiently for Lady Victoria to reach the hallway.
“Did you get a letter from one of your friends?”
“Not precisely.” Charlotte handed her the single sheet, resolutely fixing a smile on her face. “I wish you had asked me first. I could have warned you would be useless.”
Lady Victoria’s eyes scanned the brief message and then flew up to study Charlotte’s face. “I am terribly sorry. I was so sure that they would offer you an entré.”
“That’s very kind of you to think so, but I could have predicted otherwise. An American—heiress or not—would never be allowed to set foot inside that bastion of British propriety.”
Lady Victoria grasped Charlotte’s hands and squeezed them. “Don’t let it bother you, my dear. In fact, it might have been due to your sponsors.”
“My sponsors?”
A light laugh greeted Charlotte’s surprised question. “I am afraid John Archer is not precisely…. Well, in some quarters, he is not considered the best of ton.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I cannot say that I am overly concerned.” She hugged Charlotte and then draped an arm around her waist. “So shall we go on our expedition to Grafton House? It is just too bad the fashions this year seem limited to black and white to honor poor Princess Charlotte since the lack of color does not favor either of us. But we shall do our best. I would adore seeing you in white silk with silver foil and jet trim. And did I tell you we have invitations to Dacy House this Friday? They are having a ball. Just an intimate affair, really, fewer than fifty couples, I am told, but very select.”
“Dacy House?”
They climbed into the elegant carriage awaiting them at the curb. Charlotte took the seat across from Lady Victoria, facing the rear.
“Oh, I am frightfully forgetful. You don’t know the Dacys do you? Lady Dacy is His Grace’s eldest sister, Oriana. Mr. Archer introduced Lord Dacy and Oriana, so we were all very fortunate that it worked out for the best.”