Midnight Temptations With a Forbidden Lord

by Tiffany Clare

  Lord Marquess

  She did not respond further, which oddly enough agitated him. Perhaps something had taken her away from her pen and paper. Hopefully that something wasn’t another carriage ride around Hyde Park with Warren. Tristan smacked his hand against his desk, tossing his pen in the process. The man had no chance with Lady Charlotte, so the thought of him taking her around in his carriage shouldn’t have this effect on him.

  He was annoyed by his own idleness and his indecision as to how precisely he should handle Lady Charlotte. Why was he courting her as though she were a match? A friend, definitely, but she had already turned down his offer of marriage. And if he were truthful with himself, her refusal did vex him a great deal.

  Was he truly ready for a wife? Or did he just not want to give up Lady Charlotte to a man like Warren? He shrugged to himself, unsure. He had plans to make for this evening. And Lady Charlotte would not be informed because he intended to surprise her yet. He could picture her smile and it prompted him to leave the house before the lady in question had a chance to send him another letter and further delay him in doing what needed to be done.

  * * *

  Mr. Warren was waiting for Charlotte in the drawing room. Why in heavens was he calling upon her now? They rarely tarried indoors and Charlotte had assumed that was so he could declare his ownership of her and warn off any other suitors that might fancy the idea of courting her.

  Genny walked down the stairs with her. “Do be kind. I’ll be right outside the door,” her cousin said.

  “Do you know why he’s here?”

  Genny shook her head. “I thought we were to go around Hyde Park this afternoon.”

  She leaned forward and pinched Charlotte’s cheeks to add some color. “Promise me,” Genny said, her hands holding each of Charlotte’s arms.

  “Promise you what? That I won’t frighten him off? If only that were a possibility. I’d be more than happy to be rid—” Her cousin gave her a look that had Charlotte snapping her mouth shut. Instead of making a snide remark, she looked to the ceiling, perturbed. “Fine. I’ll be as sweet as Cook’s cherry pie.”

  She left her cousin standing in the corridor with her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed over her midsection.

  With a smile she did not feel, she entered the parlor. “Mr. Warren, it’s a surprise seeing you here so early in the day. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting overlong.”

  He was smartly put together in gray trousers and jacket, with a black waistcoat and a gold fob hanging from the pocket. He wore a cravat, impeccably starched. His gray eyes locked her in place, stopping her just inside the door. Was he angry with her? What could she have possibly done to receive such a cold glare?

  “It’s no trouble at all. I came unannounced though I hope you take care to hurry your pace the next time I visit. I’m a very busy man, Lady Charlotte, and it wouldn’t do to keep me waiting too long.” He pulled out his watch. “In less than thirty minutes I’m expected elsewhere.”

  She wanted to tell him that perhaps he shouldn’t have come at all, but bit her lip hard instead. “Why are you here if you have another engagement?”

  “I came because I have to cancel our ride through Hyde Park this afternoon. Something more important has come up.”

  Despite the fact that she disliked Mr. Warren, it still stung that she ranked so low on his list of priorities. She needn’t think about him much longer; the marquess and she would come up with a plan to end the engagement. She would not rest until she was free of the man standing across from her.

  “It’s wonderful to hear that I rank so highly. You’ve even paid me a visit in person instead of writing a note.” Which would have been much easier for them both, so why hadn’t he just sent a missive instead?

  “That tongue of yours will need to be tempered once we are married.” His tone was very serious, with an edge of anger.

  “I’m afraid that will be impossible.” She glared at him, daring him to rebuke her.

  “I wanted to see you in person before you left. I have business that takes me away from London.”

  “You’ve already said there are more important things; you should have saved us both the trouble.”

  “Your father wants to make our engagement official when you are back from your trip.”

  Why was her father rushing this along? He’d always doted upon her, given her everything she wanted, and now he was selling her to the highest bidder like a prized mare. She would seek him out when she was done with Mr. Warren.

  “I see,” was all she could say.

  “I also wanted to say that you should comport yourself above reproach while at the Carletons’. I do not wish to make enemies of them but their house parties leave much to be desired.”

  She wondered, then, why her father let her attend any social event held by the Carletons. Perhaps Mr. Warren could answer that question for her.

  “It’s obvious how much you dislike them, yet you don’t object to my attending their summer party.” She stepped farther into the room; her fingers absently ran over the top seam of the settee. “Why is that?”

  Mr. Warren brushed his hand through the thick mass of dark hair. “Not that you will understand the significance, but Lord Carleton holds sway over nearly half the seats in the House of Lords. It would be a foolish thing to cut his wife, and probably lead to social ruin for anyone that dared breathe an unfavorable word about them.”

  Everything always came down to politics. “Rest assured, I’m always on my best behavior when making my rounds in the evenings.”

  “Be sure to exercise the same prudence during the day, my lady.”

  “Is that all you came to tell me today?”

  “Your father has asked that I formally offer for your hand.”

  She made a face; she couldn’t help it. “It would be best if you didn’t. It’s dreadful enough that we find ourselves in this position to begin with.”

  He seemed taken aback, and stared at her agog.

  “I’ll only say no,” she clarified. “Then where would that leave us?”

  “Do you mean to make a mockery of me at the altar?”

  She crossed her arms and gave him a level stare. “I’m sure I’ll work up the courage to say yes by the time we get around to the marrying part.”

  “I see I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he said, putting his hat back on. Did he not know he was never welcome in her presence?

  “Why are you so adamant that we marry?”

  He stepped close to her. Too close, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable. “For starters, I need a young wife. I do hope you’ll ensure the Fallon seat doesn’t end with me.”

  He meant to have children right away. All the saliva from her mouth dried up and she felt a panic overwhelm her.

  “Children. So soon.” The distaste was palatable in her voice.

  “But that will be your greatest duty as my wife.”

  “That cannot be the only reason you want to marry me; we despise each other.”

  “I have three houses. We only need to see each other for the propagation of the title.”

  So he did intend to hide her in the country. Bile rose in her throat before she tamped down her emotions. She clucked her tongue. Why didn’t he want to tell her the real reason he planned to wed her?

  “There are plenty of young ladies that would willingly take my place, so there is more to marrying me than you’ve let on.” She took a seat on the settee and stared up at him. “You don’t need my dowry since you have your own fortune. You’ll also be coming into the Fallon estate and all its entailments this year.”

  “I have an agreement with your father. I cannot discuss men’s matters with you, but you have asked for details so I’ll tell you this much: your father and I will prove to be a force to be reckoned with when my influence in the House of Commons meets his influence in the House of Lords.”

  She wondered what kind of an alliance could have formed between her father, who’d always been a kind, loving f
ather, and Mr. Warren, who hadn’t an ounce of kindness in his soul. Maybe she didn’t really know her father as well as she thought? He had given her to a man she abhorred even though she’d protested the match right from the start.

  “So I was no more than a bargaining chip,” she said, knowing full well what the answer was.

  Mr. Warren shrugged. “I need to be off. I have important business to attend to.”

  She didn’t wish him well; she just stood in the middle of the parlor staring at nothing and feeling … numb. She would not sit here and feel sorry for herself, though. She needed to speak with her father. At least understand his reasons for picking that man for her husband.

  With bravado and determination, she headed toward her father’s study.

  She knocked when she reached the white-paneled door.

  “Come in,” her father called out.

  She poked her head in, and saw her father’s head bowed, reading through a stack of papers on his wide mahogany desk. “Papa. Am I interrupting you?”

  “No, not at all. Come, child.”

  He beckoned her closer with one hand, and took his reading glasses off with the other, folded them, and stared up at her. Blue eyes met blue eyes as she walked into the study and took a seat in the turquoise velvet wingback chair directly across from him. She remembered coming in here as a child and curling her feet up under her in this very chair. She was not so comfortable in her father’s presence to do that now that she’d grown up.

  Aside from their eye color there were no similarities between her and her father’s appearance. Charlotte had seen a painting of her mother, and knew her to be a petite woman with dark hair and brown eyes. She had been very beautiful and had had the same heart-shaped face as Charlotte, a small button nose, and the most welcoming smile she’d ever seen on anyone. Her father, on the other hand, was tall and robust, with a strong nose and short gray hair where he was not balding.

  “Mr. Warren just left.”

  “I know. He came to see me first.”

  “Did you ask him to come here today?”

  “We had matters to discuss.”

  “Matters regarding me?” she prompted, not wanting to talk in circles but to just get on with what needed to be said.

  “Partly.” With his elbows placed on the edge of the desk, her father steepled his fingers in front of him as he contemplated her. “Why do you ask?”

  She took a deep breath. “Would you reconsider me having to marry him?”

  A severe frown creased her father’s forehead. “Postpone the wedding until…?”

  “Indefinitely?” she asked in a small voice. As much as she disliked Mr. Warren, she also detested seeing disappointment in her father’s deep blue eyes.

  “Arrangements have already been signed off on paper. They cannot be changed now. Nor do I wish to stop this marriage.” She watched her father’s emotions shut off, something that only happened when he was incredibly angry.

  She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I do not like him, Papa. He’s cruel to me, and he plans to hide me away in the country once we are married.”

  Her father let out a dark laugh that sent a chill over her arms and had goose bumps rising along her exposed skin. “Do you think I’ll believe your stories? Charlotte, you were a sweet, biddable child. Your grandmamma said I spoiled you too much as a child. I never wanted to believe it, but now I question the amount of freedom I gave you. You’ve grown into a defiant woman.”

  She bowed her head. Her father knew how to properly chastise her. “I want nothing more than to please you.”

  “Then you’ll marry Mr. Warren and stop arguing with me about it. I grow tired of your disobedience. He’s a decent man and you can rest assured that you and any children you have will be well looked after. That will be a comfort to me when I’m an old man.”

  “Being well looked after requires more than a few thousand pounds. He’ll never make me happy, Papa.”

  Her father smacked his hand down hard on his desk, making her jump in her seat. Some of the papers atop his desk fluttered in the wake of his violence.

  “You will do this or the consequences will be dire.”

  In a smaller voice yet, she said, “Just tell me why you insist upon this marriage.”

  “I do not need to justify myself to you. I am your father and my duty was to raise you and arrange the best possible future I could for you. I’ve done both of those things.”

  Her eyes flooded with tears. Her father loathed tears so she took a deep breath and hoped they did not trickle down her face.

  “I wanted romance, Papa. Someone to sweep me off my feet and ask you properly for my hand in marriage.”

  “Romance is for the poor who have no prospects in life but to have love to fill their bellies.” Her father took a calming breath and sat back in his chair, regarding her curiously. “I’ve known Mr. Warren for nearly ten years. Since he first took his seat in Parliament. He’s a shrewd businessman. He’s dedicated and determined to succeed no matter the odds.”

  “Did you ask him to marry me?” The very thought horrified her beyond reason.

  “No. He approached me. I suggest, child, that you use your persuasive powers to gentle the man. I suspect he was worried he’d never find a wife with his gruff manners. Also, he doesn’t have the time for social functions where he could woo a woman to become his wife.”

  Why would Mr. Warren want to marry her? She’d always assumed it was her father’s desire for the match, not the other way around. This was so much more confusing. “Why would he want to marry me? He doesn’t even like me.”

  “It’s just his nature. I wouldn’t marry you off to a man I couldn’t trust.”

  But she didn’t trust him, she wanted to scream.

  Instead, Charlotte looked down at her lap and stared at the yellow and purple embroidered flowers decorating her skirts. What did all this mean? And why had Mr. Warren chosen her? He did not fancy her. He did not look at her with mischief in his eyes like the marquess did. He did not find occasion to subtly caress her hand or arm. He was cold, distant. And not once had he shown an inclination to open up to her. She would not accept an emotionless, unkind man for a husband.

  When she looked up at her father again, his gaze was pensive.

  “I’ll leave you to your work now, Papa.” She stood, went around his desk, kissed his cheek, and headed out of the room a little dazed by her father’s revelation.

  She wandered up to her room. When she opened the door to her bedchamber, her maid was standing there with a letter held between her hands. Her eyes were wide with excitement. “Another letter, miss.”

  She took it and tore it open, anxious for any good news that could help her forget the conversation she’d just had with her father.

  My dearest, most impatient lady,

  All necessary arrangements have been made for us to meet tonight. Trust Lowes when he approaches you. He’ll lead you directly into my safekeeping. The time and place will be a surprise. I look forward to seeing you.

  Lord Marquess

  She sank onto the chaise that formed part of the small seating area in her chamber. The yellow velvet embraced her as she rested her head on the soft curled arm. Tonight seemed so far away. Maybe she should accept the marquess’s offer of marriage? She snorted. He hadn’t been serious. He’d been trying to make her feel better.

  There was always the possibility that he’d figured out a solution to her conundrum since he had plans to meet with her this evening. And wouldn’t that be fabulous? She needed a miracle now.

  * * *

  Tristan stood behind the curtain on the stage. Both he and Hayden were frequent visitors to the opera house; a friend managed the theater and had given Tristan access to areas not seen by the outside world—not unless an admirer was invited to visit after the performance.

  Lady Charlotte sat in the Carleton box tonight; she was too far away for him to make out the color of her gown, but he thought it a deep burgundy with bl
ack lace overlay. Onyx beads adorned her bosom and a strip of black velvet was wrapped enticingly around her throat. Her hair wasn’t done in the usual style; loose curls were pinned up and away from her heart-shaped face and braided back in an elaborate arrangement. Her skin was porcelain white, and her lips were stained with a red pigment. She was definitely a vision of the perfect woman. And he couldn’t wait to steal her away from the rest of her company.

  He could have taken a seat in his own box, but had thought it too bold considering his plans for the evening. He did not want anyone to know he was here, though surely Lady Charlotte had realized this by now. She looked to her lap as Lady Carleton spoke to her; she seemed unhappy about whatever they were discussing. Soon enough her gaze flickered over the rest of the audience in the opera house.

  Was it possible she was searching for him? He had to admit there was a certain amount of satisfaction in thinking she preferred his company to that of all other men.

  She stared at her lap again, a quizzical look on her face. Without a doubt, she was reading the note he’d had an usher give to her when she’d been shown into the box. The instructions were detailed but simple. All that remained was for her to follow through with his plan.

  He fell back into the shadows behind the stage and made his way past the dressing rooms and through the hallway that the singers and dancers primarily used. There was a wide network of tunnels beneath the stage and the seating in the theater, leading out to street level. The interconnecting passageways were used chiefly by the staff and opera singers to get from one side of the theater to another without detection. And now they would serve to aid him in stealing away his lady.

  He paused on that thought. She wasn’t precisely his lady, but she had become important to him over the short time he’d known her. It was odd that a friendship had formed so quickly between them.

  Or perhaps not.

  Lady Charlotte was an intriguing and intelligent young woman … More importantly, though, he enjoyed being in her company, whether to steal a kiss or simply play a game of chess.