Seducing Charlotte (18 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Over the next week, summer began its fade into fall, the verdant trees gradually transforming into a brilliant riot of reds, oranges, and golds. The softened sun slanted over Cam’s mill town, casting the sand-colored stone cottages in picturesque hues of golden light.

Inhaling the crisp country air, Charlotte surveyed the area, which looked much as it had when she’d last visited several weeks ago. No obvious scars from the rioting and turmoil were visible. Tables had been set out near the white stone church, where women bustled about preparing for the picnic, which all of the workers would be attending later in the day. The town itself appeared busier now. A tidy new store had opened, and the children had begun attending school.

“Does this place have a name?” she asked Cam as they strolled through the center of town.

“We haven’t really settled on one, but I have a few thoughts.”

“Such as?”

“Charlottesfield has a certain cache. Or Charlottesford.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “How you do go on.”

“I’ve also considered Charlotteham.”

“Definitely
not
Charlotteham. That sounds like a dish served at a country dinner table.”

“Charlottesly.”

“Stop,” she said laughing as they reached the schoolhouse. “Let’s go see the children at their studies.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, love, but the pupils have the day off for the picnic.”

“Oh.” She made a moue of disappointment. “Well, I should still like to see it.”

Although absent of children, the schoolroom felt very alive. Their artwork adorned one wall. She studied them, smiling at the most rudimentary ones, the bright colors and simple strokes obviously done by the youngest children. She walked along the sun-kissed room, taking in the smell of paint, fresh wood, and lingering scent of active children. The map on the wall caught her attention and her gaze darted to the West Indies.

“We shall hear from him soon enough,” Cam’s gentle voice said from behind her. “It has only been a fortnight.”

“Yes, of course.” Heaviness settled into her chest. “I shall never be able to repay you for what you’ve done.”

“What is it, darling?” He drew her around to face him. “Why this sadness? I’ve seen it more than once since Nathan left us.”

She lowered her gaze. “It is nothing.”

“It is
not
nothing.” He put a finger under her chin, tilting her face upward until she looked into his determined amber-green gaze. “We agreed there would be no more secrets between us.”

“It is that I worry.”

“About?”

“That my selfishness will end up ruining you.” Her lungs felt sore. “Passion fades. And once it does you’ll be left with a wife who is Ned Ludd’s sister. If that were ever to become known, you would be destroyed.”

“We’ve been over this.” He drew a breath, slowly releasing it through his nostrils before continuing. “None of us can know what the future will bring, except that you and I will marry. You could already be carrying my child in your womb.”

“You loved me enough to let Nathan go. Perhaps I should love you enough to let you go.”

He laughed.
Laughed
. While she contemplated making the greatest sacrifice imaginable. “I fail to see what is so amusing,” she sniffed, drawing away.

“You fool.” He closed his long fingers closed around her upper arms, holding her in place. “I let him go for you, yes. But I didn’t compromise my principles. In all likelihood, they were going to torture him and hang him without a trial. Allowing that to take place would have compromised my sense of right and wrong.” He pulled her closer. “Do not act so beetle-headed. If anything, you helped me examine my principles and stay true to them.”

She drew back to study his face. “But you said, when you left the library, after we’d—” She flushed at the memory. “That I knew what you must do.”

“I’m no saint.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “I wanted to quell the violence. Sending your brother to the West Indies was no accident. He can hardly cause trouble from there.”

“Still, you took a great risk.”

“I couldn’t let them string your brother up. He didn’t stand a chance. Perhaps if there had been a possibility of him having a fair trial.” Cupping her face, he planted a firm kiss on her lips. “I love you, Charlotte. You bring out the best in me, make me demand the best of myself. You cannot even consider leaving me.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, the ache in her chest easing. “How could I not? Look at you. You are perfect.”

He took her into his arms, holding her tightly to him. “We are getting married next week. Say yes and promise me you’ll never even consider leaving me again.”

“I do want to marry you as soon as possible.” She snuggled into his warm embrace, inhaling his familiar, musky, masculine scent mixed with horses and leather. “I promise to never leave you. I doubt I could survive it.”

“Then we are agreed. Finally,” he said, pressing his lips softly to hers.

Remembering where they were, she pulled away. “Oh, Cam, now I can help you with your school project.”

He grabbed her before she could move completely away from him. “Oh, no. You are not going anywhere.” He pulled her close and kissed her deeply.

Exhilaration shot through her, happiness made her heart buoyant. “Cam, we mustn’t. Not here. This is a schoolhouse.”

“Balderdash. This is where people come to be educated.” He drew her down to the gleaming wood floor, his skillful hands moving over her, doing their magic until her legs wavered. “And, as I recall from the last time we were here, we have a most important lesson to complete.”

“As if I could forget.” She sighed contentedly, sinking to the floor with him. “I wouldn’t dream of arguing with such an accomplished instructor. After all, I am most determined to be an excellent student.”

Epilogue

Three years later

Leaning against the study door frame, Charlotte smiled at the sight of Cam on all fours with the twins scrambling across his back, squealing with delighted laughter.

“Neigh, neigh!” he growled in a falsely menacing voice, swaying from side to side in an attempt to throw them. His cravat was a mess from the game, and his hair was askew as usual. “I am too wild a horsey for you.”

The scene was at odds with the serious backdrop of the marquess’s study, with its Oriental rugs, dark wood paneling, and rich leather seating.

“Hold on, Caro!” Sophia garbled, her wild, amber curls bouncing, delight glowing in her soft blue eyes.

Caroline, more serious than her sister, held on with an intent expression in her golden-green eyes, her soft brown curls catching the air. Their father succeeded in gently throwing both of them to the carpet, ending the game with the girls giggling and squirming, trying to escape his tickling fingers.

“Well,” said Charlotte with a wry smile. “It is good of you not to overexcite them just before bedtime.”

He grinned at her from where he sat on the carpet, hands planted behind him as Sophia and Caroline climbed all over him as though he were a tree. “Girls, we should tell Mama to come and play horsey with us.” A naughty glint flashed in his eyes. “Do you want to play horsey with us, Mama?”

“Yes, yes!” the girls squealed in unison. They jumped up and ran to her, each tugging on one of her hands.

Laughing, she knelt to draw them both into a big hug, peppering noisy kisses along their necks. “Perhaps another time,” she said firmly, standing up. “Now you must run along to Nurse, who is waiting to give you your bath.” The girls moaned, throwing a petulant look their father’s way, looking for support.

Cam held up his hands, palms facing upward in a gesture of surrender. “We cannot go against both Mama and Nurse. They are far too fearsome.” He growled, making a sudden move toward the twins. Sophia and Caroline squealed in anxious laughter and raced out the door to where their nurse awaited them.

Watching them go, Charlotte shook her head. “You shouldn’t excite them so just before bedtime. It is not fair to Nurse.”

“Are you going to spank me for being naughty?” Cam jumped to his feet and sashayed over to pull her into his arms for a long, unhurried kiss. Her heart did a little flip, as it always did when he touched her, even after two children and three years of marriage. She finally pulled away, remembering why she’d sought him out in the first place. “The post has come.”

He eyed the letter in her hand. “Who has written to you?”

“It is from Nathan.” Her heart floated in her chest. “Why did you not tell me he is now overseeing your West Indies trading operation?”

“Fuller has expanded the business twofold since he’s been there. Hart and I have discussed eventually offering him part of the business.”

“You continue to surprise me every day,” she said softly, handing him a second letter. “This came for you.”

“For me?” Taking it from her, he tore it open. “It’s from Sebastian. His wife has finally returned home.”

“
His wife
?” Charlotte exclaimed, forgetting all about her brother. “Sebastian has married?”

“Yes,” he said absentmindedly, still reading the letter. “Of course.”

“Of course?” She shook her head. “When? Why did he not invite us?”

“That would hardly have been possible. It was years ago. Well before we met.”

“Sebastian took a wife
years ago
?” She put her hand over the letter to draw his full attention. “Why have I never heard of this before now?”

He looked up with a shrug. “You never asked.”

“That’s because I assumed—” She halted, embarrassed to voice the thought aloud.

His gaze sharpened with interest. “You assumed what?”

“That perhaps he had no interest in…um…females.”

His brows furrowed with confusion, and then shot up when he took her meaning. “You thought Sebastian was a molly?” Cam threw back his rumpled mane and shouted a laugh. “Far from it, I assure you.”

“Well, what did you expect me to think?” She put her fists on her hips. “No one ever mentions marriage around him and your family’s silence on this particular issue seems quite deliberate.”

His smile melted. “It is a sensitive matter. The marriage was not of his choosing.”

“What happened?”

“The girl was but a child and Sebastian wasn’t much older when it was arranged.” Putting the letter aside, he slipped into a chair and drew her down to sit on his lap. “He only laid eyes on her that once, on the day they married.”

She draped an arm around his neck. “Why did he consent to it?”

“He didn’t have much choice.” His deep sigh weighted the air. “The union was arranged to settle a gaming debt between my father and the Duke of Traherne.

“The Duke of Traherne?” She drew back. “Sebastian is married to the daughter of a
duke
and you never thought to mention it?”

“Who will one day be duchess in her own right through an act of parliament. There is no male heir.”

“Astounding. Where has he hidden her all of these years?”

“Mirabella was in finishing school and then abroad.” He nuzzled her neck. “Enough about that. Where were we?”

“It is nowhere near enough of that. I want the full story at supper.” She pushed up from his lap. “Come along, Cook won’t appreciate it if her creations are served cold.”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her back down onto his lap. “Not so fast.” He shifted to kiss her deeply. “We have not had a chance to play horsey, yet.”

“You are incorrigible.” Charlotte laughed, running her hand through his tousled hair in a hapless attempt to tidy it. “Besides, you have already taken me on the ride of my life.”

Drawing her hand from his hair, he placed a warm, lingering kiss on the inside of her palm. “Ah, but this is still just the beginning.” He gazed into her eyes.

“Let’s go for a ride, my love. A long and glorious ride.”

Acknowledgements

Writing begins as a solitary endeavor but many skilled hands are required to bring a book to publication and I must thank them:

First to my editor, Alethea Spiridon Hopson, for making this a much better book than it was when it came to her, and to my wonderful agent, Kevan Lyon, for bringing us together.

To Megann Yaqub for her incredible generosity and unwavering support, for reading every last word, many times over, from first draft to last, and for never failing to offer smart, insightful feedback.

To my husband, who told me I should be penning my own stories long before I thought I could, and for calling my work “art” from the very beginning. To my exceptional boys, Zach and Laith, who are the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for being patient while your mom pursued her writing dream. I love you more than I can say.

To my mother, for being unfailingly supportive of my writing, even though my books contain scenes that make her blush.

And, finally, to my father, a man of boundless intellect, who taught me everything I know about unconditional love, the pursuit of excellence, and living an authentic life. My only regret is that he passed before my writing journey began. I know he would have gotten a real kick out of holding my published book in his hands. This one’s for you, Dad.

About the Author

Diana Quincy is an award-winning television journalist who decided she’d rather make up stories where a happy ending is always guaranteed.

Growing up as a foreign service brat, Diana lived in many countries and is now settled in Virginia with her husband and two sons. When not bent over her laptop or trying to keep up with laundry, she enjoys reading, spending time with her family and dreams of traveling much more than her current schedule (and budget) allows.

Diana loves to hear from readers. You can follow her on Twitter @Diana_Quincy or visit her website at
www.dianaquincy.com
.