The School of Charm: Books 1-5

by Maggie Dallen

  Poor girl. Did this regal little thing have any idea of what life held in store for her?

  He guessed not. Despite her air of confidence and her haughty, imperious tone…he sensed a vulnerability there that she could not quite hide. Not from him. Not when he held her close like this. Not when he could feel her heart beating wildly against its cage.

  Her voice grew cold and hard. “I am waiting.”

  Rupert grinned. He couldn’t help it. Despite this precarious position, or maybe because of it—he found himself delightfully amused. How long had it been since someone had amused him so?

  After so many years working to uncover the secrets of the elite, he’d spent more tedious evenings than he could count with members of the ton. He’d spent even more with lowlifes and the downtrodden of society as he unearthed secrets and ferreted out the truth.

  But in all that time, he was rarely shocked. Not by people, at least. Their secrets might differ, their circumstances might change, but people tended to be utterly predictable.

  This girl?

  She was anything but.

  He’d expected her to scream, to faint, to burst into hysterics. Instead, she’d been the epitome of arrogance and disdain—on the surface, at least. Beyond that, he suspected, though he could not be certain…

  He thought perhaps she was enjoying herself.

  Not entirely, clearly, but she wasn’t afraid, either. And that was so baffling it made him wish to know her better. To figure out what made her angry, what made her scared…

  What made her passionate.

  “You are not afraid?” He cursed himself for the words as soon as they were out. Of all the things they ought to discuss, and he chose this moment to cater to his curiosity.

  She scoffed.

  The girl scoffed. She was being held against her will by a person she did not know, and she scoffed in disdain at the implication that she might be frightened.

  “It is hardly as though we in some back alley, and you are clearly no ruffian,” she said. “Why should I be afraid?”

  He pulled his head back to try and see her better, marveling a bit at her curious mix of confidence and naiveté. “Do you really believe that bad things can only happen in back alleys?” His voice lowered gruffly as the urge to protect her sweet innocence had him pulling her back against him once more. “Do you think villains cannot be found in high society? Have you not yet learned that men of means and power can make the most fearsome foe?”

  She stilled in his arms and he thought perhaps he’d finally gotten through to her the serious nature of his business here. When she moved, it was not to pull away, but to turn in his arms so she was facing him. The candle hovered between them and this close—he was certain she had a full view of his face just as he could see hers.

  Beautiful.

  She was so much more beautiful than he’d realized. This close he could see her perfection. She was indeed like a doll—all porcelain skin and sharp angles. Her dark hair, brows, and eyes highlighted her fairness and her lips looked rosy and pink even in this light.

  But that was where the doll comparison came to an end.

  This girl was life.

  Her eyes glinted with it, and it made her whole body vibrate. Her skin fairly crackled with her energy, her vivacity…her passion.

  And she was to be wed to Everley.

  A rage like he’d never known had him gripping her tightly. Too tightly. With her turned the way she was, she was now pressed against him in an embrace that was so highly inappropriate, it did not bear mentioning.

  “Your future husband is just that,” he said, his gaze never wavering from her steady glare. “He is a villain of the worst order.”

  It was there and gone so fast he nearly missed it. A flicker of alarm. She covered it quickly with pursed lips and a haughty sniff. “And I suppose you have some evidence to support this claim?”

  Her tone was full of derision, but he knew better. He knew her better, though he could never explain how. She was digging for information.

  He opened his mouth and shut it, trying to weigh his options. A big part of him wanted to spill all his secrets, to tell her of his past and his suspicions…

  When he didn’t immediately respond, her lips pressed together in a look of annoyance, that might have been intimidating were she not being held his captive. As it were, it was rather…adorable.

  His prisoner was put out, and that made him want to laugh all over again.

  “I suppose that is why you are here,” she said, her gaze darting to the right and left pointedly. “You are trying to prove whatever claims you have against my…my fiancé.”

  It was the second time she’d stumbled over the word. He wondered if she knew it.

  He wondered if she hated the word as much as he did.

  “You are correct,” he admitted. “I am here in the hopes of proving my suspicions.”

  She tugged back, and this time he let her go. Mostly. He kept his arm around her loosely just in case she got the idea to run.

  He had no time to battle this girl and whomever came running.

  “I knew it,” she said, her chin tilting up so her nose was in the air. She looked like a spoiled child, and yet he knew…he knew without a doubt that she was covering up her own fears.

  The proud girl would sniff and look down her nose even if a pistol were aimed at her head. He knew this like he knew his own name.

  “Aren’t you curious?” he asked. “Don’t you wish to know what crimes I suspect your betrothed of committing?”

  She pursed her lips as she seemed to consider that. “I suppose you wish to tell me.”

  He felt his lips quirking up against his will. Stubborn little minx. She wouldn’t admit to it, but he could see the curiosity in her. “I suspect that he murdered my cousin.”

  Her eyes widened at his blunt words.

  “M-murder? Y-your…what?”

  He leaned in closer, needing her to hear. To understand. “I don’t mean to scare you, Miss Clemmons, but—”

  “Well, you’re not doing a good job then, are you?” she snapped. Her brows had drawn together and he saw her chest rise and fall as her breathing grew ragged. “You cannot just throw out words like murder. It is just not done.”

  He growled as he drew her closer, setting the candle on the table so he could use that hand to cup her face in his palm. It was improper, it was intimate—but he was running out of time and patience, and like it or not, he needed this woman to understand what she was getting herself into.

  “I don’t have the evidence to prove it,” he said. “But I know what happened. What’s more, I’ve been watching Everley for years. I’ve seen the trail of victims he’s left in his wake to make him the wealthy, powerful gentleman he is today.”

  She blinked up at him, her gaze trying to search his in this dark, shadowy room. “If that is true, then why have you done nothing.”

  “I have never been able to prove my suspicions—”

  “So why now?” Her voice was rising, imperious even when upset. His gaze shot to the door. If she kept talking loudly, someone could hear. Aside from that, he knew for a fact that Everley often conducted business in his office during his parties. He was known for using his social gatherings to do his dirty work—extortion, blackmail, and yes—murder.

  “Why are you here now?” she continued. “At my engagement party, no less.”

  “Keep your voice down,” he murmured. “Unless you wish us to be caught and your reputation to be ruined.”

  She narrowed her eyes and made a noise he’d call a growl if it had come from a man. As it was it was a little more high-pitched, and entirely too enticing. “Don’t you threaten me at my own party, and in my own home.” She blinked rapidly and gave her head a little shake. “It will be my home,” she continued, but now he wasn’t entirely certain if she were reminding him or herself.

  “I didn’t come here to scare you,” he said. “I came here to save you.”

  She stare
d at him for a long moment, her lips parting with surprise.

  His gaze dropped to those lips.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  The realization struck him upside the head and left him reeling. He was a professional. He never got distracted whilst on a mission, and most certainly not while in the midst of rifling through the office of his arch nemesis. And yet, here he was. Staring at those lush lips and imagining what it might be like to press his lips to hers. What sort of sound she would make, how heatedly she would respond…

  “You…are here to save me.” Her voice hitched in the middle and he couldn’t tell if she were fighting a sob or a laugh.

  “You…you…” She let out a choked laugh. “You are here to save me.” She gave her head a little shake and seemed to remember herself, pushing against his chest hard to take a step away. Her shoulders pushed back and her head went high. “I have no need of saving, Mister…” She arched a brow.

  “Calloway,” he finished. A twinge of guilt flickered in his gut, but he pushed it aside. He owed this girl nothing, certainly not the whole unvarnished truth. And besides, it wasn’t a lie. Mr. Rupert Calloway was the name he’d been using for years now, having eschewed the honorary title that was his right. Titles were all well and good, and having one certainly served its purpose from time to time, but in his line of work, being a Mr. Nobody-in-Particular seemed best.

  Her lips curved into a sneer. “Mr. Calloway,” she repeated, as though engraving it to her memory. “You seem to forget that I am the one that belongs here. And if my future husband is as ruthless as you claim, surely it is you who needs saving.” She took her time before adding, “By me.”

  He nearly laughed at her arrogant confidence. He might have if he wasn’t so worried for her safety. He’d been concerned for her when she was just a name, an acquaintance of an old friend. But now he feared for her. Because she was…

  Well, because she was her.

  A weak woman might be able to exist at Everley’s side. A woman less stubborn, less determined, less strong-willed, less…

  Perfect.

  No, not perfect. A woman less infuriating. That was the word he’d been looking for. A woman less infuriating might be able to turn a blind eye to her husband’s wicked ways, and perhaps survive being wedded to Everley in some sort of ignorant bliss.

  But someone like Delilah… She was not simple, she was not easy, and she would definitely be a thorn in Everley’s side.

  And Everley would have no problem getting rid of her if she were problematic. That thought left Rupert shaking with rage. “Listen to me, Delilah—” His use of her given name had her eyes widening in surprise but he ignored it. “You need to take this seriously.”

  “Oh, I do,” she cut in.

  He could practically see the walls she was constructing around her, protecting herself, withdrawing into the picture of feminine grace and charm.

  Shutting him out, in the process.

  “I think I understand quite well,” she said. “You wish to destroy my husband.”

  He flinched at her use of that word. He would kill Everley first before he ever let him get his hands on this woman.

  For a man who prided himself on his even-keeled nature, he barely recognized what was happening to him. This was an investigation. One that had personal ties to him, yes, but it was still his work. His mission.

  He couldn’t let his emotions get involved.

  Not again.

  That was how Everley had bested him the last time. And he’d sworn he wouldn’t let that happen again.

  “You didn’t deny it,” she said.

  He hadn’t. How could he? He wished for nothing less than the complete ruin of Lord Everley.

  “Which means,” she said slowly. “You wish to destroy me, as well.”

  His brows drew down as he took a step toward her. If she’d retreated, he might have stopped. But she didn’t. This foolish girl was too stubborn for her own good. So invested in her bravado that she’d leap headlong into this match out of sheer spite, he had no doubt. “Now look here, Delilah.”

  “It is Miss Clemmons to you,” she said pertly, her head tilted back so she could maintain eye contact. “Soon to be Lady Everley.” She took a step back, but not out of fear from his towering height—no, her step was regal and controlled as she gestured toward the door. “I believe we are done here.”

  “But you do not—”

  “I said, we are through.” Her mouth grew pinched and he hated it. Such a shame to lose those beautiful lush lips to an expression like that. Like she’d just sucked on a lemon.

  She was waiting with her hand raised, along with her chin. She looked every inch a lady. She’d fit the role of baroness perfectly—in physicality, at least.

  Were she marrying any other gentleman he might have even admired her loyalty and her courage.

  Eyeing her now, he knew she had made up her mind. It didn’t take a fully lit room to see the stubborn set of her jaw or the hard determination in her eyes.

  His mind raced to think of any logic she might listen to. He thought of telling her that Tolston had sent him but dismissed it. He wouldn’t put it past her to tell her husband-to-be about the stranger lurking in his halls. Perhaps even tell him the details of this conversation.

  He could not risk putting his friend’s reputation on the line or have Everley turn his dastardly efforts against the good earl.

  He could think of no argument other than the one he’d given, and that had not been enough for this stubborn little fool.

  They both tensed at the sound of voices coming down the hallway, staring at the door until the booming laughter passed, along with a woman’s higher-pitched laugh.

  When the threat was over, he turned to see her staring at him. Studying him. Even in this light, she seemed to see it all—his thick brows, the wide jaw, the flat nose—every facet of his face, which friends called rugged and foes called menacing. Despite his noble lineage, he’d been graced with the appearance of those same back-alley thieves Miss Clemmons thought fit to fear.

  He waited for her judgement, but if she passed any, he could not see it. The only gesture that gave away her thoughts was the frown that touched her lips as she eyed his hair which was unfashionably long where it brushed against his collar. The fine clothes he’d scrounged up from the back of his wardrobe, but by the time he’d realized he’d let himself go recently—it had been too late to do much for his appearance other than a quick shave.

  “Why are you here now?” she asked.

  “I beg your pardon?” It wasn’t often he was called upon to play dumb, and he wasn’t certain it did him credit.

  The way she cocked one eyebrow told him she wasn’t fooled. “Why now? You said you’ve been investigating Everley, but why are you here now, risking your very life to find new evidence.”

  He let out a huff of amusement. “I wouldn’t say I was risking my life.”

  She arched both brows now. “I would. You said yourself that Everley is capable of murder, and yet here you are. Breaking into his private quarters, kidnapping his fiancée—”

  “Kidnapping?” he interjected.

  She ignored the protest. “Why now?”

  She wasn’t going to let this go, but he could see her suspicion grow. A part of her, at least, was wondering if this was connected to her.

  Smart girl.

  Smart but foolish if she thought she was immune from Everley’s cruelty because she was to be his wife.

  Voices echoed outside the door again, this time it was male voices and they were talking. “I had better go.” He looked around but before he could figure out his best chance of escape she pointed behind him.

  “That window. The drop isn’t too far.”

  He arched his brows in surprise and she shrugged. “A friend might have told me.”

  He wanted to ask her to elaborate but time was running out. He glanced around the office with a frustrated growl. After all these years he’d gotten so close.


  Close enough to actually catch the man who’d murdered his best friend.

  And he’d lost his chance because he was trying to talk sense into a senseless twit.

  She planted her hands on her hips and that was when he realized he’d muttered some of that aloud. “Senseless twit, am I? I am not the one who’s trying to snoop around Lord Evil while he’s entertaining at his own engagement party.”

  Lord…Evil? He could not have heard her right.

  Before he could ask her to explain, she glanced over her shoulder, alerted as he was by the growing volume of those voices. “Go on,” she said. “Out with you.” And with that she shoved him toward the window.

  She stopped when they reached it and he threw up the window. “Just tell me,” she said as he began his ungraceful climb out the window. “Why now?”

  Because of you. He could not tell her that, though it was clear she suspected. He didn’t have to answer at all, but that undeniable intelligence in her eyes told him she would not be satisfied without an answer, and maybe…

  Maybe that curiosity would help her to learn the real nature of the man she was wearing. Maybe…

  His gaze caught hers when he was halfway out the window.

  “What is it?” she asked, clearly reading his tension.

  He had to make a decision and he had to make it quick. “Your loving fiancé,” he started, enjoying the way her jaw muscle ticked in irritation at the endearment. “One of his many vices is smuggling.”

  She frowned. “Smuggling?”

  “Among other things,” he said.

  The voices grew louder and he heard Everley’s unmistakable laugh—humorless and cold and too loud for any occasion.

  “What does that have to do with you. Being here. Tonight.” She listed the three things like they were separate entities.

  He hovered there, half in and half out of the room, hating that he even noticed how beautiful she was in the glow of the moonlight. Even more beautiful than in the candlelight, and wouldn’t have imagine that possible had he not seen it with his own eyes.

  She was beautiful—and she knew it. That was the only explanation for her haughty, spoiled arrogance.