“Good day, Lady Charlotte. And please ensure you are not late.”
“I will do my best to make sure you’ll never have to wait for me again.”
With one last distrustful glare, he left. Charlotte slouched back on the sofa. Her time was running out. She had to find another viable option so that she didn’t have to spend the rest of her life with Mr. Warren.
Drastic times called for drastic measures.
Marriage to the marquess was looking like the better choice. Why hadn’t she said yes and eloped when he suggested it? Her biggest question was, had he been seriously suggesting that as a solution? There really was only one way to find out. She’d have to steal out of her house tonight to see him again.
Chapter 12
Lord B____ has finally shown his true colors. I never thought he’d be the type to publicly ruin someone, but I am proven wrong by his most recent escapades at Lord and Lady C____’s annual summer party. I’m disappointed that more scandal hasn’t yet been revealed from the most talked-about house party every season—surely there is something to be ferreted out. All in good time, dear readers. All in good time.
—The Mayfair Chronicles, August 1846
“My lady, let me go with you. It’s not safe for you to be out alone so late at night. You can’t go by yourself,” her maid, Sophie, said once again.
Charlotte squeezed Sophie’s hand as she took the unassuming cloak that would aid in her midnight jaunt. She couldn’t allow Sophie to come this time in case any of the other servants saw her accompanying Charlotte. She would not endanger her maid’s position.
“Miss, I’m worried about your safety at such a late hour. I came with you the last time, let me accompany you again.”
“Oh, Sophie, you’ve been my confidante all these years.” Charlotte hugged the woman who wasn’t more than two years her senior. “But you can’t go with me. I’m leaving this life behind, and I might find it too difficult to do so if you are with me.”
She was positive the marquess wouldn’t turn her away.
“No one in their right mind would let you leave like this. What will your father think of me when you’re not to be found come morning?”
She had told Sophie what she planned. And had given her specific instructions should her father find himself in a rage and sack any of the staff that worked closely with her. If the marquess turned Charlotte away, she intended to travel abroad. But before she left London, she would ask the marquess’s help for any servants that required it. She could not predict how her father would react when he heard what she had done to escape a marriage she never wanted.
“You know what to do should you find yourself in difficulty.”
“Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine. It’s you I worry about.”
Charlotte pulled Sophie into a hug. “I’ll miss you dreadfully. But should everything turn out in my favor, as I hope, I’m going to send for you.”
“You’re too kind, miss.” Sophie’s arms wrapped around Charlotte in a brief embrace.
“I’ve known you most of my life, Sophie. I won’t ever forget all you’ve done for me.”
They stared at each other for a minute.
“I hope you can trust this gent. I don’t want to see you hurt. And I really don’t like what you’ve read to me about him in the rags.”
“I have a good feeling about this, and my instincts have never let me down.” Charlotte smiled and squeezed Sophie’s hand. “Besides, it’s better to leave now than to wed that awful Mr. Warren.”
“I don’t like him any more than you, miss.”
Charlotte threw the cloak around her shoulders and cracked open her bedroom door. There wasn’t a soul about. With one last look at her maid, she pulled up the hood, slid through the door, and crept down the hallway.
She hoped the marquess wouldn’t send her back home once she explained what she had done.
* * *
A knock came on his study door. “Come,” Tristan called out.
“My lord, you’ve a visitor in the kitchen.” A wry look of amusement was on his valet’s face.
Tristan raised one brow. “Has she been settled in?”
Dixon nodded.
“Does my sister know that anyone is here?”
“No, my lord. I came straight here upon her arrival. I was locking up the house for the evening when she knocked upon the back door.”
Tristan stood and buttoned his vest. As he unrolled his shirtsleeves, Dixon came forward, plucked the cuff strings from the desk to help with the cuffs of his shirt, and then assisted him in straightening his rumpled clothes.
“Be sure none of the servants are about, Dixon. I want complete privacy this evening.”
“I’ll ensure nary a soul is about, my lord.” Dixon bowed and left to do as he was bid.
Tristan had been expecting Lady Charlotte to visit him, as her letter had implied. He had in fact noted the arrival of her family carriage earlier in the day when he’d been out running errands. He hadn’t seen her, but he’d known she was back in Town.
He strolled down the hall and headed toward the kitchen. The door was ajar so he pushed it open.
Lady Charlotte had her back to him, her hands outstretched over the coals that were cooling in the grate.
“We really should stop meeting this way.”
Charlotte turned suddenly, her cloak clinging to her form and dripping from the rain she’d been through on her way to his house. She took a few tentative steps in his direction. Was she unsure about her welcome? He’d secretly worried about her since her last letter. He shut the door behind him and came far enough into the room that they stood at arm’s length from each other.
“As you know, I had no choice.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“One might wonder why you’re here in the middle of the night.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “You know precisely why I’m here.”
Charlotte pushed the hood of the cloak away from her face.
“I’m not sure if the problems you create for me are good or bad.”
Why couldn’t women seek him out for a simple friendship, just as Jez had? It irritated him to no end. Was he worth so little as a man? He should take it as a compliment that women threw themselves at his feet on a regular basis, but when it seemed he was only good for bedding women that wanted a walk on the wilder side of life, it started to grate on his nerves.
“I don’t understand your meaning.”
“Charlotte.” He shook his head as he stepped forward—only a foot separated them now. “We have laid the foundation for a long friendship and you want me to destroy that so you don’t have to marry someone you dislike?”
“In this instance, it would be a friend helping a friend.”
“So naïve.” He caressed the side of her face before dropping both hands to her throat so he could release the frog clasp on the damp cloak and remove it from her shoulders. He took the heavy, wet material and draped it over the back of a chair.
“Why don’t we go to a more comfortable room? You’ll need something to drink that’ll warm you from the inside out, you’re soaked right through.”
She nodded her agreement.
He took her hand and led her through the house to a comfortable sitting room. He bade her to sit on the long sofa with a motion of his hand and went to the sideboard to pour out a small amount of brandy.
“Tell me what you couldn’t tell me in your letters.” He handed her the tumbler. “Here, drink this. It’s just enough to warm you but not hamper your judgment.”
“Thank you,” she said, and drank back the contents in one swallow. He took the glass from her and set it on the sideboard before finding his way back to the sofa and settling in next to her.
“Genny was having an affair with Lord Barrington,” she said in a rush. “I was forced to stay in my room when it was first discovered. And my father insisted I stay there until Genny finally left.”
“So that’s what prompted your fathe
r to attend the summer party?”
She nodded. “It must have been a great shock when he found out that my chaperone was engaged in an illicit affair. Now he thinks that if I marry Mr. Warren sooner it will save our family from more gossip.”
Of course the old man would think that. Goddamn it. Why did everything have to move so fast when he was enjoying the slow seduction between him and Lady Charlotte? He supposed he couldn’t keep at it forever.
It was either ruin her and face a duel with her father—there was no question in his mind the old man would call him out—or marry her. Though her father might still take aim with his pistol. And it was said that Ponsley had excellent aim.
“It might salvage your reputation to marry sooner rather than later.”
“I cannot—”
He placed his finger over her lips. “Shh,” he whispered, not wanting her to continue because he knew perfectly well there was little choice left for her.
Her lips were soft to the touch, so soft he rubbed his thumb over the bottom one, parting her lips.
“Tristan,” she whispered. “Ruin me, it’s the best option I have. The only option I have. I will not marry that man, and my father won’t listen to reason.”
God, he loved hearing his name come from her lips, her soft breath brushing over his thumb. He pulled away and stood up from the sofa.
“Do you know where your cousin is?” He paced in front of her, one arm behind his back and using his other hand to gesticulate. “How will she fare now that she is whispered about in society as though she’s a pariah? Do you understand the repercussions of ruin?”
“I will come into my inheritance in a few years. The funds will see me well settled; my cousin is not so lucky. Yes, I have always understood the repercussions of my ruin.”
He stopped suddenly, took her shoulders in his hands, and brought his face level to hers. His hold was gentle, he didn’t want to truly frighten her, just make her understand what her plan would mean for her future. “What do you intend to do before you have your inheritance?”
When she didn’t answer, he continued, “You hadn’t thought that far in advance, had you?”
“My father will not turn me out. He might send me away, but he will not turn me out.”
“You’re a fool to believe that, to have so much faith in him merely because he is your father. He cannot protect you. He will have to choose between his political career and his daughter. Which choice do you think will win?”
She glanced away from him and pinched her lips. She hadn’t thought of that. When she looked at him again, there was a resolve in her dark blue eyes that tolerated no refusal.
“Why are you stopping me now? You’ve known all along what I have to do to secure the future I want.”
“Court me in public and gain yourself a reputation as a girl with no morals? Sleep with me and not worry about ever having to marry a man you despise?”
She opened her mouth to argue. He was right; she’d never truly thought this out.
She stood and faced him. Her chest puffed out like an angry, ruffled bird. “I admit it, I didn’t have a solid plan in place and I was going to rely upon you to help me out of my predicament.”
“What happens, Charlotte, if I bed you? Do you waltz out of my house come morning for all to see? Do we go about Town together in my carriage to start speculation that you have become my mistress? What exactly do you think happens to a woman who has fallen from the good graces of society?”
He wasn’t sure why he was growing angry. Maybe because she preferred social ruin over marriage to him. Because, really, what society woman in her right mind would choose to marry him? He mentally scoffed at that.
She covered her face with her hands, then rubbed her eyes. He was being too hard on her. But she needed to understand how dire the consequences would be if she stayed the night.
“I can’t go home, Tristan. Please, if you won’t let me stay the night, help me in another way. I have enough pin money to see me to the Continent where no one will find me. I’ll rent a room in Paris.”
Tristan shook his head and took her chin in his hand. “You’re a foolish, foolish girl.”
She pulled away from him and walked over to the banked fire, keeping her back to him and her arms crossed in front of her defensively.
“Do you have another suggestion?” she asked quietly. There was defeat in her voice, something he’d never heard from her before.
“I’ve offered once before, and I’ll offer it again: you could marry me.” She could choose to accept that fate or go home to her father and her fiancé, because he would not allow her to leave London alone.
She turned, her eyes focused on him. “You can’t be serious. My wish was to not marry at all.”
“Am I so terrible an alternative? While you and Mr. Warren have your differences, we have grown to be allies. We think a great deal alike, Charlotte.”
“You’re asking too much in this instance. What about—”
“My children? My sister? They make the idea so repugnant to you?”
“No, I didn’t mean that.”
“I think you do.” And that shouldn’t disappoint him, but the truth was, it did.
“Don’t put words in my mouth; don’t tell me how I feel.” She came toward him, a determined fire blazing in her eyes.
“I will not help you find your way to Paris. You’ll flounder on your own.”
Her nostrils flared and her jaw tightened. She had to know he was right. She wouldn’t make it a day trying to navigate in society there. Their pace was faster, their gossips more vindictive and cruel. She couldn’t possibly understand if she’d never been there before.
Her face fell as she realized the seriousness of the situation she’d put herself in. “It was not supposed to happen this way. I was to be given a year to plan an escape.”
He pulled her into his arms, needing to comfort her. “Running away will only have your father chasing you across the Continent.”
With a defeated sigh, she pressed her cheek against his chest and relaxed in his arms. One of his hands caressed her back, the other cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangled so deep in the tresses of her hair, he could feel the pins that held the arrangement in place.
She had one arm wrapped around him, her other hand resting flat over his chest, under her cheek.
“Help me find a way,” she all but begged.
“I no more want you to marry that scoundrel than you do.”
“For my sake, or do you have a personal vendetta against him?”
“He’s not a man deserving of you. He is known for leaving bastards in his wake.”
She raised her head and looked up at him. “The information men are privy to.”
“We know more than we let on.”
Her lips glistened; she’d obviously just licked them.
“I don’t want to go home. Can I stay the night with you?”
“And have you thought about what that might mean for tomorrow?”
She nodded, even though she couldn’t truly understand what she was asking. Staying the night meant he’d have to marry her come morning. Whether she agreed to that right now or not.
Despite wanting to thwart Warren at every opportunity, there was something the man had that Tristan coveted, and she was currently in his arms. Tristan wanted Charlotte for his own, and though she did not feel the same now that he’d given her friendship, and she’d accepted that all too eagerly, he still wanted to win over her affections.
“For tonight, the only thing I care about is us. Not my father or my imminent marriage if I were to go back home,” she said.
That cemented his decision. Tristan allowed his desire to rule him from there on out. He scooped her up in his arms and hastily carried her up to his private chambers. It was late enough that his children were abed, and his sister would be tucked away in her own room sound asleep.
Charlotte was all his, at least for tonight. He wasn’t sure what to make of his desi
re to keep her to himself, but he would analyze it tomorrow when he obtained a special license for marriage.
He pushed his chamber door closed with his shoulder and leaned there for a moment. Charlotte’s feet slid down to the floor and he helped to steady her. She looked around his room, which wasn’t overly large, but comfortable. The bed was a dark cherrywood, and the walls were papered in a moss-green diagonal pattern. There was an ivory-striped damask bench at the end of the bed, and a chaise longue under the window.
Charlotte took it all in, fingering the tassels on the bolster pillow in the corner of the bench. She didn’t face him. Was she unwilling to look him in the eye because she did not know the rules in the bedroom? He vowed he would teach her every one of them.
After clicking the lock over, he walked slowly toward the first woman to ever see the inside of his bedchamber. Though she would have no way of knowing it, Charlotte was the first woman to be invited into his private sanctuary. No woman had ever set foot in his house, and certainly not in his private rooms. This was his home, where his family lived, not a place for idle amusements.
When he stood directly behind her, he slid one hand over her abdomen and pulled her back a step so she was flush against the front of his body.
“I can still arrange to have you delivered safely home,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s not too late yet.”
She shook her head. He still wasn’t sure she understood what it meant for her to be here so he slid his hand higher, cupping her breast softly through her dress and corset. Her breath hitched, but she did not step away.
“I like you, Charlotte. I have since the first time we danced. You’re bold. Daring. A troublemaker to be sure. All admirable traits.”
Her head turned to the side, her temple brushing against his chin. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t count you among my friends.”
His hand traveled still farther up, holding her neck, keeping her head turned to the side as he kissed her cheek. She thought them merely friends … He’d show her the meaning of friendship and more.
“You understand the consequences of what we are about to do?”
Midnight Temptations With a Forbidden Lord Page 16