Charlie couldn’t help but smile. “You’re the one who is clever enough to be a doctor, Arabella. What do you think?”
“Oh…” Her eyes were shining with tears now. Her cheeks glowed. “I just…I’ve been so busy of late, I didn’t even think that I might be… I must share the wonderful news with Gabriel as soon as he gets back from his ride.”
“Yes, you must. And congratulations, Arabella.” Charlie reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand. “I’m so happy for you and Gabriel.”
“Thank you.”
Charlie’s gaze wandered over to the French doors that afforded one with a view of the flagged terrace and Heathcote’s pristine lawns and the lake beyond. “I haven’t seen Max this morning. Do you happen to know if he went riding with your husband?”
“Oh. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea,” said Arabella. Her gaze shifted to the doorway of the morning room. “Speak of the devil…”
Max. Without even turning her head, Charlie was aware of his approach. It was as though she could feel his magnetic presence. His dynamic energy. The way his gaze focused on her and her alone. If it were the least bit socially acceptable, she would have slithered beneath the table or thrown a linen napkin over her face to hide her acute mortification. She might not be able to recall most of what she’d said to this man in her foxed state, but she did have a hazy memory of him holding her hair while she cast up her accounts. And he’d also helped her to undress…
The burning blush already heating Charlie’s cheeks seemed to engulf her entire neck and face as Max greeted Arabella and then her. “My lady,” he said with a bow. “I’m pleased to see you here at breakfast. And looking so well.”
“I… Yes. Thank you, Your Grace,” mumbled Charlie. Max looked… Well, like he always did. Too handsome for words. She was about to invite him to take breakfast with them, but then she caught sight of Lord Langdale striding across the lawn toward the morning room. “Arabella,” she murmured. “Gabriel’s returned.”
“Oh…” Arabella put down her napkin and rose to her feet. “If you’ll both excuse me…”
“Of course.” Max, ever the gentleman, gave another bow.
As soon as Arabella reached the terrace, she picked up her skirts and dashed down the stairs and across the grass to meet her husband. There were tears in Charlie’s eyes as she watched Arabella whisper in her husband’s ear. He gave a whoop of sheer joy, picked her up, spun her around, and kissed her soundly. All the while, Max looked on, bemused.
“I take it you know what that’s all about,” he said as he claimed the seat beside Charlie.
“Yes.” She dabbed at her eyes with napkin. “But it’s not my confidence to share.”
Max’s lips quirked. “I think I could hazard a guess. It wouldn’t have something to do with the fact Lady Langdale was indisposed last night, would it?”
Charlie smiled. “It might.”
Max nodded. “Well, I’m very happy for both of them.” His eyes narrowed, his look growing speculative as it settled on Charlie’s face. “Judging by your reaction, I take it that you are not averse to the idea of having children one day?”
Charlie dropped her gaze to the table lest Max see the yearning in her eyes. “I would love to have children one day. With—” With you. “With whomever I marry.” She shrugged a shoulder and tried to sound nonchalant as she added, “It is a wife’s duty, after all.” She picked up her tea. “And what about you? How do you feel about becoming a father one day, Your Grace?”
“As a duke, it is my duty to sire an heir and probably a few spares, at the very least.”
“Yes, but how do you feel about it, Max?”
“To be honest, I’ve never really examined my feelings in relation to starting a family before. Although…” His attention shifted to the open French doors and the now deserted lawn. “I hope that I would react in a similar way to Gabriel upon hearing such news.”
“I hope you would too.”
Max’s throat worked in a swallow. And then his gaze touched Charlie’s face. “About last night…”
Charlie closed her eyes as she was swamped by yet another wave of embarrassment. “I’m so, so sorry for acting like a complete sot. What you must think of me…”
“I don’t think any less of you, Charlie, if that’s what you’re worried about. And there’s certainly no need to apologize. Actually, I should be apologizing to you because I wasn’t there by your side, protecting you from Mowbray. No wonder you were upset.”
Charlie winced. “I told you about that? My memory is a little fuzzy up until a certain point.”
Max smiled. “You did. And I’m suitably impressed with how you dealt with the situation. Mowbray deserved it. You’ll be pleased to know that as of this morning, he’s gone. Lady Penelope and her parents are in the process of leaving too. They are no longer welcome at Heathcote. Or any of my properties, for that matter.”
“Oh…I…” Charlie frowned. “Not solely on my account, I hope. I didn’t mean to cause a fuss that would result in the whole family being evicted.”
“It wasn’t just the incident with Mowbray. You see, it seems his sister is just as devoid of a moral compass.”
While that didn’t surprise Charlie as much as it should, she felt compelled to ask, “Whatever do you mean?”
Max helped himself to a piece of toast. “Last night, after you’d fallen asleep and I was certain you were resting comfortably, I returned to my room. Smedley, my valet, informed me that in my absence, I’d had a visitor to my bedchamber.”
Charlie almost dropped the knife she’d been using to spread marmalade on her own toast. “Max, don’t tell me that”—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“that Lady Penelope was lying in wait for you.”
Max’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “She was. But thank God for Smedley. If he wasn’t so dedicated to his duty…” He shook his head. “I hate to think what might have happened.”
“I do too. The audacity of that woman, trying to ruin our betrothal and entrap you in a compromising situation.” Charlie shivered.
“I’m glad you agree,” said Max. “In any event, I had a word with the Duke of Stafford first thing this morning when he was on his way to the stables, and I let him know in no uncertain terms that I was not impressed with the behavior of his offspring and that I would like them all to leave. Of course, he was suitably affronted and doubted my version of events, but I don’t particularly care what he thinks at this point.” His mouth twitched with a smile. “As I stated last night, this is my home, and I’ll do whatever I like within its walls. Sometimes it’s gratifying to be the arrogant duke.”
Charlie laughed. “I’m sure it is. But you’ve done the right thing, considering the circumstances. If Lord Mowbray and Lady Penelope were to stay on, it would be too awkward for words.”
Max sighed. “Yes. But I still have to deal with my mother. No doubt she’ll have something to say about it when she hears that I’ve all but thrown them out. Especially Lady Penelope.”
Charlie reached out and touched his forearm. In the morning light, the diamond on her betrothal ring sparkled. “I have every confidence that you’ll be able to handle it with aplomb, Your Grace.”
Max covered her hand with his and kept it there as though he didn’t wish to let her go. Beneath his sleeve, Charlie felt the muscles of his forearm shift, then settle. His dark blue gaze met hers. “Charlie…I want to make it very clear that I have eyes for no one but you. No other woman commands my interest or occupies my thoughts like you do. And when we return to London…” His thumb caressed her wrist. “When things are quieter and we’re both under less scrutiny, I’d like to pursue you in the way that I really want to. In the way you’ve hinted that you’d like me to. If you are still agreeable...”
Charlie’s breath caught. Her skin tingled. Her heart capered. Heat bloomed in her cheeks and shimmered through her, all the way to her toes and everywhere in between. “Yes, I’m still agreeable, Max. More than agreeable.
I…I’m not ashamed to admit that I want you too. Quite desperately.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Max raised her hand, turned it, and placed a whisper-soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. His eyes held hers as he murmured in a low velvet voice, “I look forward to our next not-quite-so-proper liaison, my lady. I’ll send word to you tomorrow when you’re back at Hastings House.”
And then he rose and quit the morning room. Charlie dazedly watched him walk away, and as desire flowed through her veins like sun-warmed honey, she wondered for a moment if she were still abed and dreaming. But no, her father and Lady Tilbury had just entered the room and were headed her way.
If they wondered why she was grinning like a besotted ninnyhammer when they joined her, she didn’t really care.
At long last, Max had admitted that he wanted her and that he was willing to do something about it. Even though she had no idea why he’d changed his mind, questioning the reason for his complete turnabout was certainly the last thing on hers.
She’d roused the rake and couldn’t be happier.
Chapter 18
Even though she’s engaged to a duke, it appears that the disreputable Lady C. cannot seem to avoid scandal. What did she get up to with the very eligible Lord M.
during her betrothal ball? Read on to find out what transpired that night in the ballroom
right in front of the who’s who of the ton.…
The Beau Monde Mirror: The Society Page
Exmoor House, Grosvenor Square
April 20, 1819
Charlie was right. There was a spy who worked for the Beau Monde Mirror in their midst.
A servant from his mother’s household. Or, perish the thought, Diana or even his mother. Of course, there’d been a multitude of other tonnish guests present who might’ve witnessed Charlie’s altercation with Mowbray. Max doubted Mowbray himself would’ve gone to the papers. The Beau Monde Mirror’s story did not paint him in a favorable light either. Although, as far as Max was concerned, the scoundrel hadn’t been castigated nearly enough for his despicable behavior.
He would have to tackle his mother later in the day because he had more pressing matters to attend to. Matters that involved his fiancée and her happiness.
With a disgruntled sigh, Max tossed the copy of the scandal rag onto his bed, then turned around to submit to the fussing of Smedley. Ordinarily, Max would dress himself before he went for his early morning ride in Hyde Park, but today he wanted to look his best for Charlie. He’d sent word to her the day before that he’d meet her at Hastings House at seven o’clock, and he’d suggested that she wear a riding habit for the occasion. With any luck, her mare, Aurora, would be saddled and waiting when he arrived as well.
When his cravat was tied to his valet’s satisfaction and he was vested, coated, booted, and armed with his beaver hat, riding gloves, and riding crop, Max quit Exmoor House and headed to the nearby mews where his mounts were kept. The sky was a dark leaden gray and the air chill and mist-laden as he rode the short distance to Hastings House upon his Thoroughbred stallion, Ghost. Even though it looked like rain, Max wouldn’t be deterred from accomplishing his mission.
When Charlie appeared on the front steps of Hastings House, the cheerful smile that bloomed across her lovely face immediately brightened the cold, drear morning. Suitably attired in a beautifully cut riding habit in eye-catching scarlet, she’d completed her ensemble with a black riding hat adorned with an elegant sweep of pheasant feathers; it sat at a jaunty angle atop her barely tamed bronze curls.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she said, taking Max’s proffered arm so he could escort her down the stairs to where Charlie’s groom waited with Ghost, Aurora, and a third mount, presumably another horse from Lord Westhampton’s stables that required exercise.
As they descended, she leaned closer to him and added in a soft voice the groom couldn’t hear, “I must confess that when your note arrived, I was more than a little bit excited to see what you had planned for today. Can I expect that we’ll ignore the dictates of decorum and ride hell-for-leather down Rotten Row?”
“Lady Charlotte, I’m more than a little shocked that you would think I would lead you so wildly astray,” replied Max with mock horror. “I mean, I know it’s been reported in the Beau Monde Mirror that your alter ego might have expressed an interest in doing such a thing, but it would be remiss of me, your fiancé, to encourage such hoydenish behavior.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Charlie laughed. “Considering all of London will be reading about disreputable Lady C.’s outrageous antics at her betrothal ball, I hardly think what I get up to this morning in Hyde Park will signify.”
Max had to suppress a smirk. Charlie would not make such a pronouncement if she had any inkling about what he had in store. “You saw the latest article in the Beau Monde Mirror’s Society Page, then?”
“I did. But nothing shall dampen my spirits this morning. Not a horrid piece of inaccurate gossip that’s been leaked to the press by some unscrupulous, eavesdropping, scandalmongering spy.” She turned her gaze to the ever-darkening sky. “Or even gathering clouds and a spot of rain.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.” Indeed, based on his knowledge of Lady C.’s scandalous list of “Secret Wishes and Dreams”, he was rather hoping it did rain.
When the groom stepped forward to assist his mistress into the sidesaddle, Max held up a hand. “I’ll take it from here. Indeed, once Lady Charlotte and I are away, I’d appreciate it if you made yourself scarce.”
The young man glanced his mistress’s way for her direction, and she smiled. “It will be all right, John. His Grace will take good care of me.”
The groom bowed and moved back to wait at a discreet distance. “Of course, my lady. Your Grace.”
Charlie gave Max a coquettish smile from beneath her lashes as he slid his hands about her waist to help her mount her bay mare. “So high-handed this morning, Your Grace. I like it.”
Max lifted her onto the saddle, enjoying Charlie’s gasp of surprise as he did so. “I didn’t think you liked it when I was too domineering, my lady,” he said, flipping up the hem of her skirts to ensure her left foot was set securely in the slipper stirrup.
“Well, it depends on what you’re being high-handed about,” murmured Charlie as she watched him make a slight adjustment to the leather strap. “But being alone with you suits me, so I don’t mind at all in this instance.”
“Good,” said Max. He couldn’t resist sliding his hand up her shapely stocking-clad calf and brushing his gloved thumb against the soft bare flesh just above her garter. Her sharp intake of breath and the way her brandywine eyes widened and darkened made him smile. “I can be as high-handed as you like today.”
“Your Grace, if your hand goes any higher, I might burst into flames right in the middle of Berkeley Square,” Charlie murmured huskily.
Max chuckled softly. “Well, it’s a very good thing that it’s just started to rain.” And indeed it had. A light mizzling shower misted around them. Tiny droplets settled on the velvet brim of Charlie’s hat and her curls like a veil of soft silver gossamer. “But of course, we can always do this another time…”
A fierce light flared in Charlie’s eyes. “There’s no way in Hades I’m postponing this ride with you, Max. It could start to hail or even snow, and I wouldn’t care.”
“This morning, your every wish is my command, my lady,” said Max, withdrawing his hand, then gently squeezing one of hers where it rested upon the pommel.
“It is?” whispered Charlie.
“Yes,” said Max, holding her gaze. “It is.”
Anticipation for what was to come coursing through his veins, Max all but vaulted into his own saddle. Then they were off, wending their way through the early morning traffic toward Hyde Park.
Within fifteen minutes, they’d entered the park via Grosvenor Gate and were trotting down a broad avenue of walnut trees in the direction of Rotten Row. There weren’t many riders about; Max
surmised the inclement weather had kept them away. He didn’t mind at all. By the time they reached the eastern end of London’s most famous and popular bridle path, the rain had grown heavier, and the riders had grown even sparser.
“Are you certain you want to do this, Charlie?” asked Max as they reined in their horses. “It will be a wet, muddy ride.” Ghost must have sensed the excitement humming through Max as the horse began to snort and stamp the ground impatiently.
“I don’t mind getting a bit dirty if you don’t, Your Grace,” rejoined Charlie, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Even though her pheasant feathers were drooping and dripping, and her cheeks and even the tip of her nose had turned pink with cold, she looked nothing but radiant. “Actually, I propose we up the stakes. If we are going to hurtle pell-mell down Rotten Row in the pouring rain, we should make this worth both of our whiles. Let’s make it a race to the end.”
“What a capital idea, Lady Charlotte. And what prize can the winner claim?”
Charlie slid him a sly smile. “A kiss, of course. The nature of said kiss, and the timing and place in which it occurs, shall be the winner’s choice.”
Max flashed her a wolfish grin in return. “Done.”
They lined up their horses by a towering oak, then Max raised his crop in the air like a sword-wielding cavalry officer and called, “Charge!”
Ghost and Aurora leapt forward. Rain lashed, hooves thudded, and mud flew as they dashed headlong down the track. Max kept pace with Charlie until the halfway mark, then he let Ghost have his head. Aurora might be fleet of foot, but she was no match for his Thoroughbred racehorse. And Max wanted to win. There was no way he was going to let this opportunity to fulfill Charlie’s dream of being kissed in the rain slip through his fingers.
When Charlie caught up to him at the end of the row, she was laughing and breathless. Somewhere along the way, her hat had fallen off, but she didn’t seem bothered as she reined in alongside him. “Congratulations, Your Grace.”
How to Catch a Devilish Duke: The Disreputable Debutantes Page 22