Seducing Charlotte (4 page)

“Are you certain it is wise to move about? Willa said the doctor ordered complete bed rest.”

“A serene walk about the garden will not jangle my brain.” She quickened her step, urging him along before he changed his mind. “And the invigorating fresh air will no doubt speed my recovery.”

“As you wish.” The lines of concern on his forehead eased. They walked in silence, making their way through the cavernous house toward the garden. The cool night air and pungent scent of blooming flowers greeted them as soon as they stepped outside.

“These gardens go on forever,” she said, breathing in the crisp air.

“Hart says there are seven acres of garden. One could get lost.”

“Then I am fortunate to have you as my guide. Are you very familiar with the paths?” Her cheeks flamed as soon as she asked the question, suddenly remembering the last time she’d seen him in the garden.

He appeared not to notice. “My brothers and I have spent some time here visiting Willa since she married. Hart and I were old friends at Cambridge, so the visits are quite amiable.” They were silent for just a moment, strolling at an easy pace.

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Sometimes I think too many,” he said with an easy laugh. “Four. I am the eldest of five.”

She recalled meeting two of them before her fall. “Willa mentioned having a cousin at war. I understand he serves with great distinction.”

“That would be Edward.” Camryn’s eyes seemed to darken, even in the moonlight.

“You were against his choice to fight?”

“His reasons for doing so concern me. Edward became enamored with the daughter of an earl. As my brother was a second son with no grand prospects, her father rejected his offer. Not long after, Edward went off to join the fight.” He stared out into the darkness. “My brother has fought with great valor and is a brilliant strategist. He’s even been knighted for his services. He’s Sir Edward Stanhope now.”

“You must be very proud.”

“Indeed, I am. Enormously so. It’s just that it is so unlike him. Edward is a talented musician, an artist. I would never have guessed he would excel in military endeavors.”

Charlotte answered with a sneeze. It must be something in this garden, she thought, sneezing again.

Camryn froze beside her. Sensing the change in his demeanor, she peered up at him, dread rippling through her. His face flushed and tightened, a look of shocked comprehension washing over it. She went very still when that hardened leonine face stared down on her, his round pupils reflecting the moonlight much as they had that night.

“It was you,” he said.

Chapter Four

Cam’s head pounded with disbelief.
It couldn’t be
. He searched Charlotte’s face and, even in the torch-lit garden, could discern the deep crimson staining her cheeks. The crisp garden air suddenly felt thick and oppressive. Finally, she raised her eyes and met his gaze. “Yes.”

Something in his chest jerked. A jumble of emotions tumbled through him as he fully realized Charlotte had witnessed the coarse act. He was ashamed she’d seen him participating in it. Yet he admired the way she’d answered him. Not in a simmering, silly, or bashful way, but with shocking honesty.

“I see.” He looked away from her, his face and chest burned with mortification. “Are you always so truthful?”

She resumed walking. “I’m afraid so. Be careful of what you ask me. You might hear something you’d rather not.”

He already had
. “Thank you for your candor.” Cam fell in step beside her, still pulsing with disbelief.

No gentlewoman should be subjected to such vulgarity. But more than that, it distressed him that the episode had no doubt caused him to plummet even further in her esteem. Now she probably saw him as both an uncaring tyrant
and
a depraved degenerate.

“I apologize for the insult to your sensibilities.” The muscles in his face were so taut with strain he thought they might snap. “I am beyond chagrined that a gently raised lady should witness such a disgusting display. It astonishes me you would deign to be in the same company as me.”

“I did not think it disgusting.” Charlotte’s eyes popped wide open. Her hand flew to cover her mouth as if the words had slipped out on their own accord.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I did not think it was disgusting,” she whispered, taking a sudden interest in staring at her silk slippers.

“I see.” In reality he didn’t. Not at all. Cam was at a loss for words. This frank talk was most inappropriate, but he felt compelled to know more. “Whatever to do you mean?”

Her head jerked up. “Beg pardon?”

His question seemed to shock her as much as it did him. So she wasn’t as unflappable as she’d have him believe. He halted, compelling her to stop as well. “I know it is beyond the pale. But there is something about you, Miss Livingston, that compels me to dispense with propriety and speak quite plainly.” His gaze held hers. “You have said you never lie.”

Admiration rushed through him when she turned to face him, cool and unafraid, allowing her frank gaze to remain steady with his. “You should not ask me such a thing.”

“You would be well within your rights to slap me for my impudence.” His heart thumped in his head. “However, I find I cannot help myself.”

She held his gaze as rising tension tightened the air between them. “I would rather not say.” She finally mustered the words. “As a gentleman, you should accept my response.”

He looked at her for a moment, then smiled with reluctant resignation, allowing the pressure of the moment to ease. “When you put it that way, you leave me no choice. I can only hope the unfortunate incident has not lowered me too greatly in your esteem.”

She remained silent and walked on ahead, clearly signaling her desire to end the conversation. There was nothing to be done for it. Holding his tongue, he followed, wondering how he’d managed to botch things so completely with the first woman to rouse his interest in a very long time.

…

“Charlotte! You look wonderful.” Willa embraced her friend. “I’m so pleased you are finally returned to town. These last two weeks have been dreadfully dull without you.”

Handing her wrap to the waiting footman, Charlotte returned Willa’s embrace, her mood buoyed by the chattering sounds streaming down the corridor, emanating from Hartwell House’s salon.

“It is so good to be in London again. I came as soon as Mother allowed me to make my escape.” Charlotte hadn’t seen Willa since leaving Fairview Manor to recuperate at home in Leicestershire under her mother’s watchful eye. “I dread the thought of the Season ending and retiring to the country again.”

“Perhaps she will allow you to spend the summer at Fairview.” Willa’s soft, dreamy smile held a sharp, secretive edge. “Although I can’t promise the usual coterie of interesting guests.”

She eyed her beautiful friend. “You look lovely as usual. One could even say you are glowing.” Her gaze moved down to her friend’s midriff. “Willa, are you—”

“We are not announcing it as of yet, but yes, I am increasing.” The duchess’s enormous, velvety-brown eyes shone with happiness. “Hartwell is thrilled. We both are.”

“Willa, how wonderful.”

“I’ll enter my confinement once the season ends. Please say you’ll consider spending my lying in with me at Fairview.” She looped her arm through Charlotte’s. “I won’t press you for an immediate answer. Come, the guests are already gathered.”

They entered the large parlor where the guests had gathered. Disappointment flashed through Charlotte to see no sign of Willa’s cousin. She’d not seen Camryn since their walk in the garden almost three weeks ago. Shaking off the feeling, she tried to remember she had no business being interested in the marquess. She forced herself to picture him at one of his dingy factories driving the downtrodden workers with impossible demands.

The Duke of Hartwell approached and Charlotte felt a twinge near her heart at the loving look the two exchanged before the duke’s sharp-cut features focused on her.

“Miss Livingston. I am gratified to see you have recovered fully.”

“Yes, Your Grace, I have. Thank you.” She never felt at ease with Willa’s dark, enigmatic husband. Already an imposingly tall man, he wore unrelenting black except for the bright white of his cravat. She wondered why he still wore his hair long, tied back in a queue. It was quite out of fashion and made his bold features appear all the more severe.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, she moved about the room, soon settling into a conversation with Jonathan Martin, a wealthy man of business and Robert Gibbon, who shared Charlotte’s interest in social reform.

“Miss Livingston, have you heard the dreadful news from Crosland Moor?” Gibbon inquired.

“I’m afraid not,” said Charlotte. “I have been at home in Leicestershire quite removed from the news.”

Martin, the man of business shook his head. “It’s most distasteful, but not unexpected. It seems the Luddites have struck there again.”

“Only this time, they’ve really done it,” interjected a crisp, resonant voice that made Charlotte’s heart jump. “They ambushed and murdered a mill owner in Marsden.”

She turned to see the Marquess of Camryn approaching them, his gilded presence as radiant as the candles illuminating the room around him. Dark, formfitting evening clothes showed his lithe, lightly muscled form to extreme advantage. Her stomach tightened at the way his sculpted thighs flexed and slid beneath snug breeches.

“Ah, Camryn, do join us,” said Gibbon. “We could use your noble outlook.”

“As cousin to an earl, you’re hardly part of the working class,” he said in wry tones.

“Sadly, blue blood alone does not put food on one’s table.”

Camryn snorted before settling a mesmerizing amber gaze on Charlotte. “Miss Livingston, forgive my lack of manners.” He bowed, his rumpled tawny hair in pointed contrast with his impeccably tied cravat. “I trust you are recovered from your fall?”

Charlotte’s pulse somersaulted under his keen gaze. He had a way of looking at a female that made her feel like the only person in the world. “Yes, my lord, thank you for your concern.”

“So, what say you about the happenings at Marsden, Camryn?” asked Gibbon.

The marquess settled into a chair. “The perpetrators are no better than footpads who must be dealt with swiftly and severely.”

“The risings are a reaction to the loss of wages,” Charlotte said heatedly.

“Miss Livingston, surely you comprehend these acts are primitive responses to progress. Machinery is here to stay and more will inevitably follow. The operative class must change with the times. There is no alternative.”

“Easily said by a man who stands to gain significantly from the advance of machinery,” Gibbon scoffed. “Your factories can now produce large quantities more cheaply and quickly, boosting your profits considerably.”

“Despite producing inferior articles,” Charlotte muttered.

“All of the workers must learn a new skill.” Crossing an ankle over the opposite knee, Camryn drank from his brandy. “Progress is not an easy journey, but it must be undertaken nonetheless.”

“That same progress threatens the very hierarchy that places you at the top of society,” Charlotte said. “One day soon wealthy merchants could be on an even footing with a peer of the realm.”

The way Cam’s provocative amber-green eyes seemed to continually assess her warmed Charlotte’s cheeks. “As I said, Miss Livingston, no one can stop progress, not even the peerage. We must all adapt, including the machine wreckers.”

Hartwell appeared. “Forgive me for stealing Camryn for a moment. There is an urgent matter we must discuss before supper.”

Camryn rose. “Of course, if you will excuse me.”

Gibbon watched them go. “I wonder what urgent matters Camryn has with His Grace,” he mused to no one in particular.

Martin relaxed back into his chair. “It is my understanding Hartwell is joining Camryn in the textile business. I hear they have recently acquired another cotton mill.” The tradesman gave a cynical smile. “I never thought to see the day when the loftiest members of the peerage would dirty their white gloves by dabbling in trade.”

“Not only lords of the realm but cotton lords as well,” Gibbon said. “It appears even the most esteemed members of the peerage are anxious to be on the profitable side of progress.”

…

Throughout supper and afterward, Cam was surprised at the significant masculine attention directed at Charlotte. Gibbon sat to her right side while Martin claimed the left. Another gentleman Cam wasn’t acquainted with sat across from her, listening to Charlotte discuss her latest writings on the advantages of educating all children no matter what their station in life.

He had no explanation for his attraction to her. Since Willa’s house party, he’d danced with some of the Ton’s most sought-after lovelies at the few social events he’d forced himself to attend, mostly for political reasons. Yet his thoughts kept returning to Charlotte.

Fashionable society’s incomparables, with their fancy dresses, opulent jewelry, and ornate hairstyles, suddenly struck him as garish and overwrought in comparison to Charlotte’s natural simplicity. Their coy behavior and flirtatious laughter left him longing for a certain bluestocking’s plainspoken manner. Even though the lady in question had shown she could be too forthright. And maddeningly wrong in her assumptions, especially about him.

The men surrounding her this evening paid rapt attention when she spoke. He appreciated their interest. His blood warmed at the way those lucent azure eyes sparkled with intelligence, her lithe body vibrating with energy and intent.

“The American Thomas Jefferson has long argued for a public education system,” she said to the men around her.

“The Americans?” The man Cam didn’t know scoffed. “Surely you’re not suggesting we follow their lead. Theirs can hardly be deemed an orderly society. There is no peerage there. Really,” he sniffed, “they are practically savages.”

The corners of Charlotte’s plump mouth lifted. “Savages who could soon have a better educated and more informed citizenry than we have here.”

Cam didn’t notice Willa slip beside him until she spoke. “They seem quite enthralled by her.”

“Apparently.”

Willa crossed her arms. “She’s quite sought after, you know, by a certain type of gentleman.”

“And what sort of gentleman might that be?” Cam asked in a flat tone that invited no follow-up conversation.

Not that that would dissuade his cousin from making her point. “A learned sort. A gentleman who appreciates her intellectual pursuits.”

“Just as I appreciate yours?” Hartwell asked, sidling up next to his wife and slipping his arm around her waist. Beaming, she relaxed her body into his.

Cam looked to the ceiling. “Really, Hart, the last thing I need to witness is you pawing my cousin in polite company.”

Hartwell’s answering laugh was soft and low. “Oh, Cam, you’ve no idea.”

“Do behave yourself.” Willa’s ears blushed as she pulled away to go and join a group of ladies seated near the window.

Reluctantly releasing her, the duke turned to Cam. “Miss Livingston certainly commands attention, wouldn’t you say, Cam?”

“I suppose.”

“She appears to be drawing your interest.”

There was no use denying it. “I’m not quite sure why.” He exhaled through his nostrils, still mystified by his attraction to her. “She’s hardly my type. I normally shag girls who are a bit more fleshy, shall we say.”

“Yes, but what one seeks out for a little slap and tickle is far different from what you desire in a life’s companion.”

Life’s companion?
“Why do you presume I seek a wife?”

“Oh, you don’t have to be looking,” the duke said in mild tones. “When your time comes, fate manages to find you all the same.”

Cam’s gaze ran over Charlotte’s willowy form. “And does this fate also alter one’s tastes in females?”

“Who can say? Perhaps a man doesn’t truly know what his type is until he meets the right woman.”

“Interesting theory.”

“Thus far, you’ve purposely consorted with certain females who only serve to fulfill your physical needs.”

Who now bored him senseless. Unlike Charlotte, who intrigued him for some unaccountable reason. “Are you suggesting I now need more than just a good shagging?”

“A meeting of the minds can be as seductive as a mingling of the flesh.” Hartwell shrugged as if it were all the same to him. “Perhaps she appeals to all of your senses, not just the physical.”

“When did you become so wise?”

“Around the time I married your cousin,” the duke said as he drifted away to mingle with his other guests.

Cam continued to observe Charlotte from a safe distance while nursing his brandy. He’d always assumed a lack of eligible suitors accounted for her spinster status. In the glittering atmosphere of the Ton, he’d mistaken her clean simplicity for plainness, but others had not made the same error. This evening, she shined, appearing to be in her element as she commanded attention and interest. Charlotte Livingston was a diamond who could easily be mistaken for plain glass if one didn’t look carefully enough to appreciate all of her brilliant facets.