Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Uncle Charlie's Angels Book 1)

by Samantha Grace

  “They should, because it is true.”

  “And how would you know what is true when it comes to matters of the heart?”

  Sophia grinned. “Aunt Beatrice told me, and before you ask how our spinster aunt has knowledge of such matters, I don’t know. But I believe her.”

  “That settles it.” Regina stood and approached the bed to grab her gloves and don them. “If Aunt Beatrice said it, then it must be true.”

  Although she was teasing her sister, she too trusted their great-aunt over a stranger. Besides, it was too late to follow advice from the essential handbook for new brides. She already enjoyed Xavier’s touch, and she didn’t believe it possible she would ever find it unpleasant.

  By the time she was ready to join the wedding party below stairs, her nervousness had abated mostly. Sophia stopped her outside the drawing room and tossed her arms around her neck. “I’m sorry Mother and Father aren’t here to see you marry, Gigi. If they were, I believe they would tell you how very proud they are of you for keeping us close and taking good care of Auntie and Uncle Charles. I know Evangeline and I are proud to call you our older sister.”

  Regina hugged Sophia in return then cradled her cheeks. “Now, tell me the truth. You drew the short stick and were stuck with the task of giving me the talk.”

  Sophia laughed. “I did not. I volunteered. How did I do?”

  “You were perfect, dearest.”

  They embraced once more before entering the drawing room. Xavier stood as she stepped through the threshold. His mouth hung partially open as if he’d been in the middle of speaking and forgotten his words. She suspected she appeared just as stunned by her first glimpse of him. He wore a double-breasted coat the color of rich wine and ivory trousers that could have appeared ostentatious on anyone else, but with his coloring and long, lean body, he was nothing less than striking.

  He came forward to take her hand and draw it through the crook of his arm. “Miss Darlington, you look even more lovely than usual.”

  She wanted to return the compliment, but she felt everyone’s eyes on her and shyness overtook her. She could be bold and strong, but showing her softer side with onlookers made her feel too vulnerable.

  Sophia joined Aunt Beatrice on the settee. Evangeline and Joy had claimed two chairs. As agreed last night, Claudine was staying above stairs in the guest room to keep her presence at Wedmore House secret.

  The vicar stood in front of the fireplace, waiting to perform the nuptials. Crispin, who was acting as a witness to their marriage along with Aunt Beatrice, had taken up position behind the settee.

  Vicar Burnett held out his hand palm up, inviting Regina and Xavier to come forward. “Shall we begin?”

  He led them through their vows, and before his words pronouncing them husband and wife sank in, Regina was signing her name to the parish registry. Xavier accepted the quill from her, dipped the tip in the inkwell, and scrawled his name on the page. While still bent over the book, he aimed a sideways glance at her. “The deed is done, Mrs. Vistoire, and I am a lucky man.”

  A small jolt passed through her at the sound of her new address.

  The wedding party, minus the vicar who had other responsibilities to attend, retired to the dining room for a small breakfast. Regina hadn’t swallowed her last bite before Aunt Beatrice was shooing her upstairs to change her gown, so she and Xavier could be on their way. Evangeline and Sophia accompanied her to her chambers and helped pack a valise for overnight.

  “We will be back tomorrow,” she promised.

  Evangeline rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and shook her head. “Enjoy your newlywed status. There is no need to rush back. We will be all right.”

  “I would feel better if we stayed together at least until the troubles with Farrin and Claudine are settled.” She nibbled her lip as she contemplated the wisdom in leaving even for one night. “Perhaps we should stay—”

  “Go,” her sisters said at the same time.

  Sophia closed the valise and lifted it from the bed. “You only get one wedding night, and you are not spending it at Wedmore House.” Without further debate, Sophia marched out the chamber door with Regina’s belongings. Regina resigned herself to spending the night away from her beloved family and trailed behind her.

  A hackney coach was waiting outside when they reconvened in the drawing room. Crispin had already gone, and Claudine had come out of hiding. Cupid was sprawled on her lap, basking in the joy of a good belly scratch, and Aunt Beatrice had returned to her knitting. After taking a deep fortifying breath, Regina said good-bye to her family and accepted her new husband’s escort to the coach.

  Once she was settled on the bench, Xavier climbed in beside her and drew the curtains. The door closed, and he gathered her to him and captured her lips with his. He gently nipped her mouth several times before cradling the back of her head and deepening the kiss. A smoldering fire lit in her lower belly as her breath rushed from her lungs. He leisurely swept the tip of his tongue across her mouth, and she parted her lips on a sigh. His tongue brushed against hers in a loving, seductive stroke that left her tingly all over. He eased back, breaking contact, but seemed to have second thoughts and pressed his lips to hers for one last lingering kiss.

  “Sweet Mary, Mother of God,” he muttered then leaned against the seatback and drew her against his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder and covered his heart with her hand. It knocked beneath her palm, strong enough to be felt even through layers of clothing.

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  He chuckled, jostling her slightly. “It is still morning, and you are a new bride. I don’t wish to be thought of as uncivilized, so I will refrain from answering that question. Would you care to take a stroll once we reach the hotel?”

  She sat up. “No, I meant what happens with Farrin. How will we reach him to let him know we have the map? I assume you took it to the hotel last night. It was missing when I returned to the library.”

  His posture grew rigid. “I never agreed to allow you to meet Farrin.”

  “I wasn’t asking for permission. You need me and I am coming with you. I refuse to sit around worrying while you meet with him alone. What if he takes you again?”

  “There is no reason to worry. I met with him last night. I expect he has gone into hiding for a time to avoid a confrontation with Stanhurst.”

  Regina felt like she’d been hit with a boulder. “You met with him last night? Xavier, anything could have happened to you, and I might have never learned your fate.” Tears blurred her vision, and she pressed her hand against the ache in her chest. How could he disregard her wishes so easily?

  “Regina, please don’t cry.”

  His request made the tears come faster.

  He cradled her face between his palms and gingerly swiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb. “I am frightened too. Losing you would kill me, especially when I would be responsible. I brought this mess into your life. It is my duty to clean it up.”

  “No, Uncle Charles is responsible.” Trying to will her tears to stop, she caught them with her fingertips and dampened her glove. She was not a sentimental ninny, and she didn’t want to be seen as one. “I’m sure he did not intend to place us in danger when he began his research, but this is his doing. You are in this mess because of him, so if I apply your logic, I should be cleaning up the mess.”

  Xavier released her and frowned. “That is nonsense.”

  “Yes, it is. I am glad to hear you admit it. From now on, we will face our troubles together.”

  He removed his hat and shoved his fingers through his curls with a breathy chuckle. “Fair enough. We will put our heads together from now on.”

  She was encouraged by his agreement.

  “However,” he said with his green eyes darkening and boring into her, “if I am ever faced with a choice between placing you in danger or risking my own life, I will always choose to save you.”

  “You have no concept of the word partners
hip.”

  One dark eyebrow lifted. “That is where you are wrong, ma chérie. I insist my better half stays alive.”

  “And I intend to see that my stubborn half does the same.”

  Thirty-one

  Xavier had taken rooms toward the back of the hotel due to the almost constant rattle of carriages along Albemarle Street. Noise from the busy thoroughfare grew muffled as one of the hotel’s footmen led Regina and Xavier along the dim corridor with her valise in hand. Once inside the apartment, Xavier directed the footman to take his bride’s belongings to the bedchamber and paid him a shilling before he left.

  Regina wandered around the space, inspecting her new surroundings. She had barely spoken since their tiff in the carriage. While he understood the reason for her upset, he maintained that he had made the correct decision. Regina was too good for the likes of men like Farrin, and Xavier wanted to keep her ignorant of the evil that existed in her own backyard.

  “Does this meet with your approval?” he asked as she trailed her fingers over the surface of the marble topped sideboard then checked her glove for dust. She wouldn’t find anything out of place—the maids kept the rooms spotless—but her satisfaction mattered a great deal to him.

  “It is nice,” she murmured before moving to the impractical gray silk sofa and plumping a tasseled pillow. She paused to sniff the vase of pink phlox on the side table. “Nice.”

  He suppressed a sigh as she wandered past him to reach the bedchamber without looking at him. He stood in the doorway and leaned against the jamb. She walked with a rigidness to her back and limbs that seemed almost painful. He couldn’t decide if she was still angry or simply nervous to be alone with him. Either way, he needed to do something to change the tide, or their first day as husband and wife was going to be a chore for both of them.

  “Did you pack your trousers?” he asked, nodding toward the valise sitting beside the wardrobe.

  She spun away from the water closet door. “Pardon?”

  “I asked if you packed your trousers. The ones you were wearing the night I found you punching a helpless bag of sand.”

  “Of course, not. It is our wedding night, and trousers hardly seemed appropriate.”

  He came forward with a smile, eager to see her in whatever flimsy nightrail she’d chosen, but now wasn’t the time. “I never did learn what that sandbag did to earn your disfavor, but it must have been something dastardly. Perhaps he misled you?”

  She nailed him with a look that would turn him to stone if she had that power.

  “Did he refuse your help and act on his own without regard for your feelings?”

  “Yes, that is exactly what he did.” Her hands landed on her hips. “And then he had the gall to bait me. Does any of this sound familiar?”

  He grinned as he sauntered toward her, stopping with only a couple of inches separating them. “You want me to say I was wrong for meeting Farrin without you.”

  Color rose in her cheeks. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He shrugged one shoulder before moving to the wardrobe and casually opening the doors. “There is only one way to settle this.” He dug inside until he found a pair of buckskins that would be the least likely to fall around her ankles and one of his shirts. He turned back toward her and lifted the pants. “We will settle this like men.”

  She rolled her eyes, clearly thinking he was teasing.

  He tossed the clothes on the bed and came to stand before her. “I will help you undress, then I want you to put these on. We will spar and if you best me, I will apologize for delivering the map without you.”

  Her jaw dropped. Gently, he placed his hand on her chin, closed her mouth, then turned her back to him to untie the sash around her waist.

  The sash came loose, but she held it in place with her hands covering her stomach. “You cannot be serious.”

  “Hmm, but I can.” Grasping the end of the bow holding her dress together in the back, he tugged. “Don’t you want me to admit I was wrong?”

  “Well, yes.” She tried to spin around, but he caught her shoulders to keep her facing forward and leaned his head close to hers. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Her exotic scent left him feeling slightly intoxicated.

  “Then make me apologize, madame.” He brushed a kiss across the rim of her ear. “Unless you believe you are incapable of besting me,” he whispered.

  She trembled, her body suddenly searing hot. “I will make you apologize.” Jerking away, she pulled the gown over her head then faced him with defiance flaming in her gorgeous amber green eyes. Her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath, and his gaze was drawn to her décolletage. Her ivory skin was flawless, and her corset made her modest breasts look plump and irresistible.

  “Should I help you loosen your corset?”

  “I don’t need your help.” She ripped at the corset strings and when she had them untied, she wrestled open the fastenings down the front. “Just like you don’t think you need mine.”

  With her corset lying defeated on the Aubusson, she removed her petticoats and chemise. All reserve and shyness had fled, and she stood before him bare except for her stockings and slippers. His magnificent bride brimmed with audacious courage, and damned if she didn’t look like she really wanted to bloody his nose.

  He chuckled. “I’m beginning to feel overdressed.”

  “That is not my problem.” She snagged the shirt from the bed to pull it over her head. The hem hung to her knees. She hitched her chin, challenging him. She was as provocative as hell, and it required every ounce of his willpower not to scoop her in his arms and toss her on the bed.

  He rubbed his clean-shaven jaw, studying her while she held his gaze without blinking. “Put on the pants,” he said.

  “Take off your jacket.”

  “You didn’t say please.” Not that he cared. He was already shrugging out of his jacket then reaching to untie his cravat. When he’d shed both pieces, he held his arms at his sides, inviting her inspection.

  She pointed, flicking her finger up and down from his neck to his waist. “And your waistcoat.”

  Her eyes widened when he didn’t stop with his waistcoat and tore his shirt over his head.

  He smirked. “If you can forego pants, I can do without a shirt.”

  “What you wear or don’t wear has no bearing on the outcome of our match.” Fiddling with a strand of hair that had come loose when she’d disrobed, she averted her gaze. “You do not intimidate me.”

  “Bien.” Lying was not her forte, but her lack of skill in this area made her even more desirable. “Follow me and let us clear the air.”

  He didn’t wait to see if she would argue. He returned to the sitting room and began pushing furniture to the perimeter. Once he had an area clear, he squared off with her.

  She crossed her arms, cocking a hip. “You don’t actually expect me to fight you. It is our wedding day.”

  “You are angry. Why shouldn’t we clear the air?”

  “I never said I was angry.”

  “Perhaps not with words, but your body betrayed you.” He assumed a boxing stance, teasing her. “Come on, Regina. You know you want to draw my cork, so do it.”

  She shook her head.

  He playfully took a swipe at her. She deflected the blow and scowled. “Stop.”

  “If you can manage two good hits, I’ll stop.” He danced around her, hopping on the balls of his feet.

  “Two strikes and you will admit you were wrong and offer your apology?”

  “No, that will take three.” Grinning, he grabbed for her. She grasped his wrist, pushed him off balance, and drove the heel of her palm toward his nose. She stopped short of punching him.

  He hissed. “So close. Better luck next time.”

  The spark in her eyes flamed. “That counts as a strike. Two more and you lose.”

  “I said three good hits and you never touched me. Sorry, sweetheart.”

  “You are as mad as a March hare! I’m not going
to hit you.”

  He continued to hop from foot to foot, circling her. “Very well. Three good hits from me, and you must admit you are angry.”

  “I am not.”

  He shot his left hand out and lightly smacked her bottom. She gasped, frozen by what he could only surmise was shock.

  He winked. “That is one for me.”

  When he tried to whack her other bottom cheek, she leapt to the side with a cry of outrage. “Xavier Vistoire, you better stop right now.”

  “Make me.” He repeatedly attempted to grab her bum, but she kept spinning as soon as he made contact, so he tickled her sides instead.

  She squealed, wiggling to escape his eager fingers and laughing so hard she couldn’t form full sentences.

  “You better—”

  “I am going to—”

  Whatever had caused her aloofness earlier was forgotten in that moment. Her full belly laughter was infectious. She thrust her arms up between their bodies then chopped downward, breaking his hold, and dashed for the sofa. He gave chase. She leapt onto the cushions, almost tipping over until she flung her arms to her sides and regained her balance. The low table pushed against the sofa created a barrier.

  “What are you going to do now?” she taunted.

  “I will not be thwarted by a table.” He grabbed for her and she slapped at his hands, still laughing.

  With a growl, he jumped on the sofa, too. She screamed and ran over the table to escape. Her feet hit the floor. Xavier chased her around the room, his fingertips grazing the muslin shirt, but she was too fast. When she raced into the bedchamber, however, he had her trapped. Still, Regina wasn’t ready to surrender. She barreled toward the door and Xavier snagged her around the waist, lifting her feet off the floor.

  They stumbled into the wall. Her body became wedged between his and the yellow wall covering, and she stopped struggling. Her cheeks had taken on a rosy glow, and her hair was mussed. They were panting. Her luscious breasts were flattened against his chest. He was hard and hungry for her, but her smile held him entranced.

  “You are beautiful, love.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, the fine silky strands of her hair caressing his skin.