“I did not know that…” She did not seem able to form full sentences as she pulled her dressing gown around her more tightly. “I was ringing the bell for Danvers to bring some clothes down from my room–when Matthews said… chaperone…”
Her splutters did not distract him from noticing the faint flush in her cheeks, the way she looked at him in shock but also in delight. By God, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She just did not have the words to express it.
William nodded and stepped forward. “At this rate, Charlotte, it’ll be you that needs a chaperone.”
She took a step back, her eyes wide. “You cannot be serious—William, you cannot be here! What if someone saw you?”
“Nobody saw me.”
“You cannot possibly know that for certain. Matthews saw you!”
William shrugged. “I wanted to see you, and I care not who knows. I am not ashamed about the way I feel for you.”
Silence fell, and he wondered whether he had gone too far. By God, but he owed Matthews more than a guinea for allowing him into this room—the old butler must be more of a man of the world than he had estimated.
But Charlotte was not easily persuaded, fully aware of her worth and value. Who in her position would permit him to stride into her home and make love to her?
She stared, arms folded across her chest, clearly thinking hard. If she didn’t accept him, there was no point. He would rather leave than make her feel coerced.
Charlotte sighed, and William’s heart sank.
“You…you have come all this way,” she said quietly. “You may as well stay for a drink.” She gestured to the nearby cabinet.
William’s stomach roiled uncomfortably. Was that just politeness? One drink and then be off with you? Or was that, have a drink and then another, and stay here until the early hours?
“Aren’t you going to have one?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I never touch the stuff. Well, except once.”
A smile crept over her face without embarrassment. William’s curiosity piqued.
“You will have to tell me about it,” he said easily, stepping over to the bottles and helping himself to a small portion of port. It would not do to completely lose his head. It was best he remained sober this evening, so every sweet memory—or painful moment—could be remembered.
Holding his drink carefully, William sat on the sofa, hoping Charlotte would join him. She hesitated, standing by the fire, her eyes flickering over the various seating options in the room.
All she needed was a little encouragement, permission to be reckless. He patted the seat beside him, and after a moment’s thought, she lowered herself onto the sofa, as far from him as possible. William sighed internally. He had an uphill battle ahead of him.
“There is a story there,” he said breezily, leaning back.
Charlotte frowned. “Where?”
“In your smile. In your comment about one drink, and one drink only. I have to say it is not a surprise, considering what you said about your father.”
That’s the way to seduce a woman. Remind her about her horrific father.
“As you have probably guessed, there is a weakness for alcohol in my family, and so my brother and I vowed we would never touch the stuff.”
“And yet, you did. Once.”
She laughed and finally met his gaze. “Yes, three months ago. Richard had a misunderstanding with Tabitha. When he believed he had lost her, he consumed a fair bit of whiskey. When I discovered him here in this very study, I took it upon myself to remove immediate temptation from him.” She laughed again. “I drank two whole glasses to prevent him from doing so. I must say, I do not see the attraction of a liquid that burns your throat and stomach.”
He snorted at the thought of Charlotte tipping her head back and draining the glasses. “I cannot imagine it!”
William saw her shoulders relax. It was wonderful, sitting here, laughing together—as if this was their home.
William swallowed. As Charlotte laughed, part of her dressing gown had become undone, and he had a rather fetching view of the curve of her breast. The view was doing rather uncomfortable things to parts of his body.
“Thank goodness they reconciled,” Charlotte said. “I may have developed a serious problem!”
At these words, her laughter subsided, and sadness washed across her features.
“What are you thinking?”
“It is nothing,” she said hastily.
“Now, do not do that with me.” William raised his glass to his lips, took a sip, and lowered it to his lap. “I think you and I have shared too much to be false with each other. Talk to me. What took you from happiness to misery in a few seconds?”
Charlotte’s eyes met his, and there was such intensity William fell silent.
“It is foolish,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Nothing you feel is ever foolish.”
She smiled weakly. “You are a very charming man, aren’t you, William?”
For the first time, he knew what it was to care more for another than himself. “Only with you. Everything I say to you is the truth, I swear it.”
They looked at each other in silence.
“It is not much of a secret, after all,” she said quietly. “I am sure there are plenty of ladies who feel this way. It is…well, my brother Richard and I were always so close. Close in age, close in temperament. He had vowed never to marry—yes, that is another story—and it was clear there would be few suitors knocking at the door for my hand. I thought he and I would grow old together, prepare Stonehaven Lacey for another family.”
Charlotte looked at her hands twisted together in her lap.
“Then?” William prompted.
“Then he met Tabitha. Do not misunderstand me, they are perfect for each other. I never thought I would meet a match for my brother, and when he did, I realized how selfish I was. I wanted him to be happy, but I also wanted him to be happy with me. He is married now, and they have gone to Stonehaven Lacey to prepare for their own family, and I…”
William watched her, saw the way she delicately chose her words, how she hesitated, made sure each sentence did not betray her feelings too deeply. But she did not need to. He could see the pain in her, the disappointment, and the shame she felt.
“It was easier to come to Bath,” Charlotte said finally. “I was made welcome at Stonehaven Lacey, but it is their home. They did not need a third person there.”
She finished in obvious embarrassment. He could not take his eyes from her. She felt things so deeply, rarely sharing those thoughts. The way she was speaking, he guessed she had never shared these particular thoughts, this specific pain.
“I never had to think about such things,” he said quietly, “and in some ways, I think it is a blessing. I was not raised to this sort of life, and I do not fit into the nobility the way you do. Born to it. Raised to it.”
She snorted and shook her head. “William, you are the Duke of Mercia.”
“Madness, isn’t it? No, honestly, Charlotte, you cannot imagine in turn what it is like to grow up a normal lad in a middling family, work hard all your life, and then be told by letter, you have a title waiting for you.”
She leaned forward. “How could you have a title waiting for you? I must admit, I have been curious for a while. Wasn’t your father…”
“You said so yourself, you and your brother were preparing Stonehaven Lacey for another family,” he pointed out. “And it happens, does it not? The male line ends in one branch of the family, and another rises to take its place. My mother was cast off for marrying a solider. She never spoke of her family. We just thought they were against the old war, hated the army, you know. It was not until we received the news that my uncle, her brother, had died that we realized what a life my mother had left behind. All for love.”
William hoped his hint at love would provoke a response.
Charlotte scrunched her nose. “It does not seem possible you did not know at al
l. Surely her name would have given you an idea.”
“When you are a child, you believe what you are told,” he said. “I never thought much about my mother’s maiden name, and I never thought to ask.”
“Perhaps that is why you are so bored with those children you keep getting introduced to.”
William laughed. Now, this was another side of Charlotte he loved. He loved her. Every part of her, the serious side, the playful side, and the contemplative side. Each part contributed to who she was.
“Bored?” He set down the glass of port, hardly touched. “Charlotte, I have had far too much fun with you to be bored.”
He had resisted for so long but could not restrain himself any longer. He leaned forward to kiss her.
She leaned back at first, but as their eyes met, she shivered and moved forward. As soon as their lips met, she moaned, giving in to the kiss.
William groaned and brought his arms around her, pulling her to him as tightly as he could. It was glorious. Before his mind could even conceive of what to do next, they were both lying on the sofa, her dressing gown open, and nothing but her nightgown and his shirt between them.
William lost himself in her lips. He wanted to explore them, know them, possess them. For several minutes, all he could focus on was her face, mouth, and the kiss that burned his lips, making him hungry for more.
Eventually, he broke the kiss to say the words in his heart.
“I love you, Charlotte.”
“Do you, indeed?”
“I would never lie to you, nor about something so important,” he said slowly. He had to get this right. He would only have one chance. “You know,” he said shakily, “I have actually asked you to marry me twice.”
“You never actually asked,” Charlotte countered, her hair wild across the sofa and her lips red from their passion. “You just told me you wanted to, which I do not think counts.”
William laughed. “Perhaps I am saving it for a special occasion.”
“Does this count?”
“Not yet,” he growled and lowered his face once more to hers.
The kisses were deepening, and he knew if he did not say something now, he would forever regret it.
He pulled away from her and almost smiled at the small moan of disappointment she made.
“Charlotte, I have to ask, I want more with you.”
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide. “More? More of this, you mean, kissing?”
William swallowed. Her fear of being seduced was ringing through his memory. How could he possibly explain it?
“You were wrong when you suspected me of only wanting your company for your body,” he said slowly, not taking his gaze from her face, “but you were also right. I would greatly enjoy seducing you. Have you…have you ever considered allowing a gentleman to teach you the ways of pleasure?”
Charlotte hesitated. “Once. It was a long time ago. He was a tutor for our neighbors here in Bath.” It was not the answer he had expected, and it must have shown on his face, because she laughed. “Nothing happened, really. A few stolen kisses behind the curtains as I visited to watch the music lesson.”
“Charlotte St. Maur, you minx!” William could hardly contain himself. He was pleased. “And you wanted more?”
There was a hint of embarrassment on her face but no shame. “He did. I did not consider one and twenty a good age to lose one’s innocence and reputation, when marriage—I thought—was so close. Now I look back with a few regrets.”
“Regrets?”
She nodded. “I could have experienced something beautiful, I think. Something that I will now never know.”
There was a knowing sparkle in her eyes that made William’s heart leap. She could not have been plainer if she had spoken the words aloud.
He knew exactly what he wanted to do, and he knew she would let him. She was ready. William leaned forward to worship her mouth, his right hand untangled itself from her wild mane and slowly made its way down her body.
It met with continuous temptation, her breasts, quivering under the slightest touch, those hips so round and soft. But eventually, his hand reached that secret, warm, delicious place where he wanted to sink his manhood right now—but not yet. He had so much more pleasure to give.
“Charlotte,” he managed in a shaky voice. “Do you trust me?”
She looked at him with wide eyes hazy with desire and nodded—and cried out with pleasure as he slipped two of his fingers inside her.
William almost cried out with her. God’s teeth, but she was ready for him. Her nightgown was damp, and she tightened around his fingers. As he moved them gently, he caressed that nub of pleasure, and she arched against the sofa.
“William!”
Hearing his name cried out was enough to push him over the edge, but he gritted his teeth. This was not the time to lose control. This was when he could show Charlotte exactly what she meant to him. How she deserved to be loved.
Lowering his mouth to her neck, he teased kisses down it until he reached her décolletage without forgetting to keep his fingers moving ever so gently, working up to a rhythm, slowly, slowly.
But she did not want slowly. She twitched with desire and moaned, eventually managing to whisper, “More, William.”
It was too much. Burying his face in her breasts and finding her nipple with his tongue, William caressed and stroked, her panting and moans echoing in his ears and driving him wild as he brought her to climax.
Her spasms around his fingers made his manhood desperate to be inside her. As she settled, she looked into his eyes with shock and surprise.
“That was…wonderful.”
“And there is more,” he whispered, unable to stop himself from kissing her again. “More, Charlotte, and I want to give it to you.”
She gazed at him in wonder, and as he opened his mouth to ask her once and for all to make him happy and marry him, she leaned and kissed him full on the mouth.
“In that case,” she said, “why don’t you come upstairs with me?”
Chapter Thirteen
For a heart-stopping instant, Charlotte could not believe what she had just said. Lying on the sofa almost completely naked with a man—who could have believed it?
She would not have believed it even an hour ago, and yet here she was. And here he was.
William Lennox, Duke of Mercia. How could one man mean so much to her? Just looking at him made her melt.
In that case, why don’t you come upstairs with me?
She trusted him. How could she not? He was an honorable man, one with a deep sense of pride in himself and his word. Charlotte was sure he would not tell anyone about tonight. Her reputation was safe with him.
He had come here tonight wanting this—wanting her. It had been obvious the moment he entered the room.
She wanted more of that divine pleasure he had given her, pleasure beyond what was possible on this earth.
But he had not responded to her offer. In fact, William was gazing at her with complete astonishment. Had she gone too far? He will end up marrying someone else, to be sure. Any man gets bored of chasing one woman eventually. But would he give her this? Would he give her tonight?
“We would be taking a risk.”
“I will not tell anyone,” she whispered. “I trust you. I know you will not, either.”
He swallowed. “But…but what about a child?”
Pushing him away, she walked around the sofa to a small, unassuming wooden box placed in the corner of the room on a table. She opened it and pulled out a preservative.
William sat up hurriedly. “Why in God’s name do you have a French letter?”
She laughed at the way he responded. One would almost think he had never seen one before, and that man was far too good with his hands to be so innocent. “They are not mine! They are Richard’s.”
His eyes widened, and Charlotte explained, “Look, we are both of age, and he and I have always been honest with each other. He has no secrets fro
m me. I knew he had women here, and he was determined after taking his vow never to marry. So, shall we?”
Rising from the sofa and jumping over it, he pulled her into his arms and a deep kiss.
When they finally broke apart, neither had much breath, but William managed to say, “Yes.”
He was hers, and she was very soon to be his. It was easy to lose yourself in those blue eyes, and she did not want to break the silence.
But something hot and fiery was stirring inside her, and she could not delay.
Taking him by the hand, she moved toward the door and opened it quietly, looking into the corridor to find no one. Matthews must be giving the servants their orders for tomorrow.
Something was making a rhythmic sound, and it took a moment to realize it was the sound of her own heart thumping in her ears. It was difficult to believe this was real. She had a gentleman at home, and she had invited him to her bedchamber—and what was more, he had accepted. She was about to do what the most scandalous ladies in society did.
Pulling him quietly through the doorway, it did not take more than a minute to creep up the staircase and into her bedroom. She pulled him through the door and shut it quietly behind her.
William stood in the center of the room, and Charlotte swallowed. She had never been more vulnerable, more alone. No man had ever been in her bedchamber. Her childhood paintings were on the walls, and some rather racy novels by Mrs. Radcliffe were by the side of the bed. Several pairs of stockings, all in need of mending, were scattered around. Charlotte colored.
But William was not looking around at her room. He was staring at her with hungry eyes.
So, this how it felt before you were bedded for the first time. She had not expected so much fear and anticipation, but the memory of pleasure was still recent, and she shivered at the thought of it.
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