More Than Charming (2 page)

“My God, Chester,” Geoffrey said. “You’ve known Constance for nearly three years. You’ve danced with her.”

“Charmed her,” James put in.

“I believe you take an awfully long time to accomplish your goals, old man,” Paul finished.

“It’ll make for an interesting wedding night, I daresay.” Geoffrey laughed.

Chester reddened. “Never mind. You’re the last one to talk of dragging one’s feet, Leed.”

Paul smiled. “I believe I wished to be quite certain of my feelings before asking the fair Michelle for her hand.”

Chester looked at him askance. “You would still be dragging your feet if you hadn’t come precariously close to preceding your wedding night.”

Leed didn’t bat an eyelash. “Too true.”

“What was your incentive for matrimony, Kane?” James asked.

“Love, my friend,” Geoffrey answered. “It took me a while to recognize it, however.”

James was suddenly quiet, but if the others noticed, no remark was made of it. As talk turned bawdier around him, he puzzled over Geoffrey’s words.

Nearly three years earlier, James had fancied himself in love with Geoffrey’s wife. And while Becca had done nothing to encourage his attentions, he’d foolishly professed his feelings for her. She naturally refused him, but Geoffrey found them together and was furious, innocent though the circumstances. By a twist of fate however, James saved Becca’s life and earned Geoffrey’s forgiveness and undying gratitude.

James now knew that what he’d felt for Becca was youthful infatuation. But what of love? He had no true notion of that prickly emotion. He wondered if he would even trust himself to recognize it if it did happen. His friends’ laughter broke through his reverie.

“Roberts,” Chester said. “Where is your head?”

“Hmm?” James answered.

“I believe Roberts is still thinking about all those lovely invitations littering his desk,” Paul offered.

“My God,” Chester moaned. “Not the matrons.”

“Yes,” James answered. “Apparently, I’m still very much in demand among the drawing rooms of polite society.”

“Better you than me, friend,” Chester said. “I’m most pleased my marriage will put an end to that business.”

James forced a smile. Marriage. His father had talked of nearly nothing else in Yorkshire. The subject blessedly turned to other topics as the hour grew late.

Paul stood and stretched, laying his cards on the table. “Well, gentlemen. I must be getting home.”

Chester and Geoffrey nodded their agreement and made ready to take their leave.

“Riding with me, Roberts?” Chester asked, shrugging into his jacket.

“Thank you, no. I believe I’ll set out for the pubs.”

The others exchanged a knowing look, which James didn’t miss. No matter. At least at the pubs, he’d give no more thought to love or marriage. He’d partake of some stout ale and perhaps a generous serving wench. He could do with some mindless release.

*     *     *

Long after her sister and father had departed, Catherine sat at the vanity in her pretty bedchamber and absently stared at her reflection in the oval mirror. Her heart-shaped face with its famous Talbot blue-violet eyes stared back at her. Her chestnut hair, so like both Paul’s and Elizabeth’s, was brushed and fell softly over her shoulders. But Catherine saw resignation in those blue eyes, defeat in the slump of those shoulders. What had she felt for Waltham, both before and after her Great Disgrace? Had she really loved him? She’d been quite pained when she’d learned that he’d eloped to Gretna Green with Lady Joan Banister. But was it the loss of the man or the loss of a dream that had stung so?

She’d been much like Elizabeth then, flighty and silly with hardly a care in the world. Perhaps Waltham had done her a great service. He could have handled the matter with more care, however. Paul had wanted to kill the man with his bare hands when he’d learned of the betrayal.

Catherine smiled as she thought of her brother, so big and strong and handsome. And loyal. Was there a man like that for her? Someone who would love her and keep her safe?

“Such maudlin thoughts,” she berated herself.

With a sigh of irritation, she snuffed out the candle and climbed into bed. She dreamed that night of a man, strong and tall, reaching out to her and whispering love words and promising to be with her always.

*     *     *

James sat at a table in the corner of the pub, nursing a mug of ale. The place was poorly lit, the patrons alternating between loud and boisterous and sullen and morose. James fit himself into that last category.

Suddenly, a woman filled his field of vision, a serving wench with whose favors he was very well acquainted.

“Lord Roberts!” the girl gushed, a wide smile curving her mouth. “Where have you been keeping yourself?”

James smiled up at her. “Hello, Lizzie.”

Lizzie, tall, blonde, and well-endowed, flashed James a saucy grin and sat beside him. “I’ve missed you sorely, m’lord.”

“Have you now?” James let his eyes fall on her bosom as he lightly fingered the handle of his mug of ale. “I’m certain you didn’t lack for male attention during my absence.”

“Hardly.” She leaned toward him as he brought the mug to his lips, and she stroked his cock beneath the table. “But I’ve sorely missed your particular attention, m’lord.”

The months of abstinence while in the country had apparently taken their toll, for he was suddenly as hard as the table beneath his elbow.

James hesitated for the briefest moment. Why ever not? He drained the last of his ale, stood, and tossed several pound notes on the table. Lizzie quickly snatched up the notes and pocketed them. It was understood that the ample tip for service would be rewarded abovestairs.

The room upstairs was as poorly lit as the pub. Lizzie shut the door behind him and removed his jacket and waistcoat. James closed his eyes and permitted her to remove the rest of his
clothing. She led him over to the bed.

She pushed him down onto his back and straddled him. She took him in her mouth and her skill brought him to orgasm so quickly, it took him by surprise.

When his breath slowed, he opened his eyes and swore softly. “Forgive me, Lizzie.”

“Nonsense, m’lord.” Lizzie grinned as she came to her feet and stripped off her gown. She crawled over him on the bed. “Now we can take our time.”

His laughter soon grew into groans of pleasure.

Much later, in his bedchamber at his townhouse, James stripped off his own clothes. Despite the lateness of the hour, he ordered a bath and some brandy. He’d need help getting to sleep tonight.

As he sank into the steaming water, he thought about his encounter with Lizzie. He’d assured her pleasure before taking his own that second time, but he’d felt empty afterward. As usual, no tenderness or emotions were exchanged, implied, or expected. But for the first time in his adult life, James gained no real satisfaction from the act.

He got out of the bath and readied for bed. The bath had soothed him, body and mind, and after he drained his glass of brandy, he felt he could finally get some sleep. He got into the enormous four-poster and let sleep claim him. He dreamed of a girl, whose face he couldn’t see clearly. She pledged him her love and sweetly asked for his in return.

A smile curved his lips as his breathing grew deep and even.

James awoke the next morning and stretched, ignoring the slight headache rapping in his head. His dream came back to him, the sweet girl reaching out to him once more.

He shook his head at his foolishness. “Of course, James. She’s merely waiting for you to sweep her off her feet.” If he hadn’t found such a girl in all his years in society, he wouldn’t find her now.

As he stood beside the bed, his mind went back to his vague dissatisfaction at the pub. Perhaps he should take a mistress. No. Although many gentlemen kept women tucked away for the sole purpose of seeing to their pleasure, James had no desire to use a  woman in such a way.

“Better to take my pleasure with the wenches at the pubs,” he muttered as he went into his dressing room to ready for the day. At least no lasting attachment was expected or desired on either party’s behalf.

Once dressed, he went down to the breakfast room and helped himself to a hearty meal from the sideboard. Despite his overindulgence of the previous evening, he was ravenously hungry. He thought ahead to Chester’s wedding and smiled. He set upon his meal with relish, his mind on the pleasant time he was certain to have with his good friends if not with a girl who couldn’t possibly exist.

*     *     *

Catherine opened her eyes to find her sister flitting about her chamber. It was the day of Lord Chester’s wedding, and obviously the girl was in a fit about something. What now?

“Elizabeth.” She rubbed her eyes. “What on earth are you about?”

“Oh, good morning, Catherine,” her sister said. “I need to borrow something of yours, something that will complement my gown for the wedding celebration.”

Catherine sat up in her bed and yawned. “What is it you need?”

“Where are your ribbons?” Elizabeth asked, rifling through the drawers of Catherine’s vanity.

“Come away from there,” Catherine said without anger.

She rose and padded over to the vanity. She pulled open a drawer on the right and waved her hand. “The ribbons,” she said, turning toward the dressing room.

Elizabeth gave an exaggerated sigh of relief and picked out two long peach ribbons. She fairly skipped from the room, her mind certainly focused on her attire for that evening’s bash.

Catherine emerged from the dressing room, wearing a day dress of light rose. Unlike Elizabeth, she didn’t give much thought to the coming festivities. She’d set aside a gown of deep blue, the cut quite daring. It was part of the wardrobe that was created for her after her engagement, and made her appear quite worldly. But seeing as she was no longer a young girl in her first Season, the gown was appropriate for her use now. As she glanced into the drawer that Elizabeth had left open, she spied ribbons of precisely the same shade of blue. She suddenly remembered her dream, the mystery lover speaking his wonderful promises.

Wouldn’t it be marvelous if she actually met such a man? Surely she wouldn’t tonight, not at an event attended by so many people already of her acquaintance. Nevertheless, she felt a tingle of excitement for the coming evening and smiled as she set the ribbons aside for her lady’s maid to later twine in her hair

The day passed predictably if not quickly, and the time soon arrived for Catherine to ready for the party. Elizabeth had driven her mad with her impatience and Catherine was glad to retire to her room to make her own preparations. After her lady’s maid Annie dressed her upswept, glossy brown curls with the blue ribbons, she gazed into the mirror. The style served to make Catherine’s eyes appear larger, the lashes framing them long and thick. She could almost see a flicker of anticipation in their bright blue depths. Hmm.

She stood, clad in her chemise, petticoat, and stays as Annie stepped out of the dressing room with the lovely blue gown. The maid assisted her into the gown and deftly fastened the hooks in the back.

Catherine gasped as she looked into the cheval mirror. “Oh, my. This dress is quite revealing.”

Annie shook her head. “Nay, my lady. Ya’ look absolutely splendid.”

Catherine’s eyes fell on her bosom, a large portion of which was visible above the bodice of the gown. She tried to tug the gown upward to no avail. She pulled on her long satin gloves and sighed, prepared to wait for her sister to join her.

*     *     *

James dressed himself with care for the coming evening. After shaving, he donned the crisp white shirt left out by his valet and tied his cravat precisely. He pulled on black breeches, shining boots, and a waistcoat of silver-gray. A well-fitting jacket of black finished his dress. He checked his appearance in the mirror atop his washstand, raked his fingers through his black hair. Satisfied, he took himself downstairs and called for his carriage.

The party was a huge affair, as the Earl of Chester boasted many friends. He and Constance, his wife of but a few hours, greeted the guests as they entered the salon. The main salon served as a grand ballroom this evening, its polished floor gleaming in the light of hundreds of candles.

James entered the home and sought out the couple. “Lady Chester,” he greeted Constance, The new bride was a picture, her golden hair upswept and her gray eyes sparkling. “May I say that you make an exceptionally beautiful bride.”

Constance accepted his compliment with a blush, at which her husband placed a tender kiss on her temple. James watched the simple exchange with a twinge of envy. Obviously, Chester had made a love match.

His charm reasserted itself as he shook his friend’s hand with warm regard and bowed to the new bride. “Pray do me the honor of a dance this evening, Lady Chester?”

“Of course,” she said with a shy smile.

James stepped into the ballroom. An orchestra was at one end of the space, and there were chairs set up around the perimeter. He spied Paul and his wife, Michelle, well away from the orchestra. Paul saw him as well, and waved in greeting.

James joined them. “Leed,” he said in greeting. He turned to Paul’s wife, a beauty with hair of golden red. “Michelle,” he said, grasping her hand and bringing it to his lips.

Michelle curtsied as James bowed to her.

James turned to find that Paul’s father, the Earl of Talbot had joined them, along with Elizabeth. James favored the girl with a smile and turned to greet her father. “Lord Talbot.”

“Hello, Roberts,” Talbot said in his booming voice. “How’s your father?”

“Still ailing, I’m afraid, sir.”

“Pity,” Talbot said. “Do give him my best?”

“Certainly,” James said. He turned to the earl’s youngest child. “How are you, Elizabeth?”