Lord Atten Meets His Match

by Jenni James

  “Mmm,” he hummed in her ear.

  Charity’s neck exploded in soft tingles that went all the way to her shoulder and back again. Her traitorous heart pounded, and she feared to move lest her legs had turn into Cook’s jelly.

  Everett inhaled as he pulled back, and their eyes locked. “I am not to be trusted being close to you, am I?”

  Charity could not answer. She watched Lord Compton walk up behind Lord Atten and place his hand upon his shoulder. “Perhaps now is the best time to join the rest of us.”

  She glanced around the room, and they were all alone. When had everyone left?

  “Yes.” Everett gave a slight cough and then held out his arm. “Miss Charity, would you do me the honor?”

  “Gladly.” Flustered and greatly shaken, she placed her hand into his and they quickly made their way out of the Percevals’ drawing room, her neck still tingly from the warmth he left there.

  Lord Compton chuckled softly as he followed them.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN:

  Lord Atten was exceptionally charming. It was remarkably wonderful for them to be amongst friends and allowed to be themselves. There was an undeniable pull between them, and for a small moment that night, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to have Lord Atten near her always.

  He had leaned over and was making some sort of humorous commentary on the lobster bisque when in the next moment, their gazes locked, and she saw a vision of sorts. A silly moment of a fleeting dream. Everett was chasing a cherub boy with dark curls up the stairs, growling like a bear whilst the little one shrieked in delight. Then at the top of the stairs, another child appeared, her long blonde tresses bouncing as she hurried down the steps right into the arms of her monstrous papa.

  Charity had laughed with the joyful children and then felt a tug on her hair. In her arms was another smiling babe, this one much smaller, whose eyes sparkled brightly up at her. Her heart flip-flopped in that split fraction of a moment. She wanted this world. Wanted everything that it represented.

  She blinked awake from the odd daydream, but not before noticing the intense, shocked stare Everett had upon his face, as if he too experienced the same phenomenon. Everything stilled, as if frozen in time, and for that brief moment, she understood that there was something greater than honor, something greater than the joy of someone else—there was her hope for love.

  “What are you thinking of?” Everett asked.

  Charity shook her head slightly. “I dare not speak of it.”

  “That is precisely what I am afraid of most.”

  “As am I.”

  He took a deep breath and broke the invisible thread connecting them. “After tonight, what happens?”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “My dear Charity, you are in control of every aspect of this—this friendship of ours. Please tell me what I am to do next. What do you wish?”

  She blinked. “How is this all upon my shoulders?”

  “Because my willpower is simply gone. I am close to tossing all convention to the wind, flipping you over my shoulder, and running away with you to Greta Green.”

  She gasped, her heart pounding. “Everett! You would treat me as your papa did your mama?”

  “I would treat you as—I . . . yes. It would seem so. And no doubt land you in the briars as well.”

  “Indeed!” She turned in her seat and took another spoonful of her bisque. Her breathing had sped up so much, she was worried she might choke on the soup. “In all good conscience, I could not begin any type of courtship until I know for certain we have our families’ blessings.”

  “Choose your words wisely, Charity.” He leaned over. “I do believe you may have thrown the gauntlet down.”

  “This is not a challenge!” And then she made the mistake of looking at him and wishing it was exactly that. She wished he would challenge her. Prove her wrong. Create the one thing she yearned for—his love. A family with him.

  Several heads turned their way, and Charity attempted her best not to make eye contact with any of the guests. She had not realized she could actually feel herself flush so many times in one day.

  Lord Atten picked up his glass and nodded to a few people behind her before taking a sip. “My dear, you made this a challenge the moment you swooped in and rescued me.”

  “Allow me to correct you.” She attempted a smile. “Your feathers were ruffled as soon as I called you a damsel in distress.”

  He shrugged a shoulder, willing her to play along. “True, but look what it got me.”

  She grinned. “Yes, madness!”

  Everett beamed. “You cannot prove it.”

  “Any man who would claim to toss a woman over his shoulder before he took the time to get to know her is indeed very mad. We have only spoken a handful of times. ‘Tis not wise to believe we will be compatible so soon.”

  “Is it not?” He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “And yet were you not eager to run away with me if we had our families’ blessings?”

  “It is not what I meant at all, and you know it.”

  “Do I?” His gaze locked with hers. “And what did you wish to portray with your admissions?”

  She could feel herself growing flustered. “Cease with this nonsense. We are merely spinning ourselves in circles with these nonsensical riddles. I cannot think why.”

  He paused, and the corner of his mouth turned down. “I will stop if you wish.”

  It was the verimost last thing she wished. “Yes, please.”

  He glanced away and then turned more fully in his seat toward his bowl.

  After they ate together for some minutes of silence and the next course was served, he finally spoke again. “Forgive me, Miss Waite. I did not mean to upset you just now.”

  “You did not upset me in the least.”

  “Oh, it is just I who feels this . . . this tension of sorts?”

  Charity picked at the quail in front of her with the tines of her fork. “I feel it as well.”

  “And yet you are certain you are not offended by my words, or even my presence?”

  “Your presence?” A surprised chuckle released. “Whyever would I be offended by your presence when it is the one thing I wish for the most?”

  Swiftly, Everett turned back in his chair and looked with exceeding interest at her. “Truly? Then let us solve this. Let us at least approach our parents and attempt to sort it all out. If not for our sakes, then perhaps think of theirs.”

  She nodded. Heaven help her, she nodded. “It is time this feud was put to an end.”

  Everett claimed her hand. “Will you walk with me tomorrow so that we may plan further?”

  She looked down at their clasped hands and then back into his eager eyes and knew her life would never be the same from that moment on. “Of course.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY:

  The next morning, Everett awoke to the sound of a great pounding on his front door. He heard several feet scurrying and then his butler answer. These London houses were always ridiculously cramped and noisy compared to the country estates, yet this racket was quite a few levels louder than he was used to.

  “What in the devil is going on?” he growled as Chaplin came rushing in.

  The older man still had his nightcap and gown on. “It appears you have a visitor.”

  “Well, we can all hear that I do. What I wish to know is, who has come to wake the house?”

  Chaplin straightened his robe and looked down his wobbly chin at him. “I fear it is Lord Waite, my lord.”

  Atten sat up—indeed, he nearly flew out of the bed. “What? Are you certain?”

  “Oh, very much so. And he looks angry enough to capture a bear.”

  “Well, you didn’t let the beast-eater have reign of the house, did you?”

  “I certainly did not!” The older man puffed and straightened his cap. “Jasper is holding him captive in the blue drawing room, waiting to hear what you wish to do.”

  Everett felt as though
his brain was mush. “I am in all confusion. Why is he being held captive? If I was being held captive in a gentleman’s home, I would be mad as a hornet too.”

  Chaplin cleared his throat. “That is to say, he is not being held against his will from leaving the place. He is being stopped from running up to your rooms and doing who knows what to you.”

  “Of all the atrocious—” Lord Atten climbed out of the bed and began to pull on trousers. “Well, why did you not say so in the first place?”

  “I attempted to.”

  “Any notion what would have him in such a state?” Everett jammed his arms into a fresh lawn shirt and was about to take a comb to his hair when Lord Waite began to bellow again. Rushing out of his room and down the stairs, Everett buttoned the top of his shirt as he went. He paused a moment to tuck the tails into his trousers before opening the door and stepping barefooted into the blue drawing room.

  The still very handsome Lord Waite was standing in the middle of the room, red-faced and about to holler some more when he took sight of Everett in his disheveled state and dropped his jaw. “After all of that, you have come to receive me as thus?” The older man pointed at Everett’s feet and shirtsleeves. “Why, you are barely decent!”

  Everett glanced down and noticed that one button was out of place. He gave a mock grin as he unbuttoned and began the chore of redoing the top of the shirt. “After such a spectacle, do you honestly expect something else?” he asked as he slipped the last button into its correct hole.

  “I—me?” The man looked astounded as he gestured to himself. “You believe it is I who has created the spectacle when it has clearly been you going about molesting my daughter in front of all of God’s creatures?”

  “Ah, so this is your sport?” Lord Atten calmly walked past his, er guest, and sat down.

  “Sport!” Lord Waite wheeled around on his heel. “If you believe I am merely sporting with you, then let me—”

  “For heaven’s sake, man, lower your voice and have a seat.” He pulled on his sleeves and began to tie them at the wrist. “Let us be civilized, at the very least.”

  “Oh, no, you do not!” Lord Waite walked over to the high-backed chair across from Everett and wagged his finger at him. “I own this farce. You do not get to pretend to be a gentleman now and cause me to look the worst for it.”

  Everett allowed one dark eyebrow to rise in answer, and Lord Waite harrumphed his disapproval before collapsing uncivilly upon the chair. “You are nothing but a disgrace! I despise you.”

  “’Tis true.” Atten let out a sigh. “I am a horrid wastrel. A liar, a schemer, a lunatic…” He paused. “Am I missing anything?”

  “And a jackanapes!”

  “Yes, quite right.”

  “A cad!”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  Lord Waite adjusted angrily in his seat. “A womanizing cad, at that!”

  “No,” Everett said softly, but with a hint of steel to his tone. “I am not that.”

  “No?” Their gazes collided, and Lord Waite was the first to glance away. “Well, what do you call yourself, then?”

  Everett allowed the silence to deafen the room before he simply uttered, “In love.”

  Lord Waite shook his head. “I do not believe you. And why should I believe you?” He threw his arm up. “Why, a gentleman should—at the very least—expect that the man who wishes to court his daughter would ask his permission! Have you done so? No! I have not laid eyes upon you until this very moment! And to hear that you’ve had the audacity to kiss my daughter once already—why, it’s a monstrosity!”

  “I have kissed her more than once. And yes, you are most certainly correct. I have treated her and you very ill in that regard.” He held up a hand before the tyrant could continue. “However, in my defense, I have never had any intention of courting her.”

  “You what?” The man flew at him in a flash of rage. Before Everett knew what had happened, the man was dragging him to his feet and slapping his cheeks. “Lord Atten, I call you out! Have a second and your pistols ready at dawn. We shall end this once and for all!”

  “No.” Everett shook his head. “Ruin my reputation all you wish. Beat me blue. Slap my cheeks as many times as you can—I will not, absolutely will not kill the father of the girl I wish to marry. I will not even stand up and appear at dawn. You may label me a coward, but no one will convince me that this feud is dignified with this—this impertinent silliness.”

  “As if you would kill me!”

  “I am an expert at pistols and the sword. My father insisted upon it in case something as exasperating as this exact situation were to take place.”

  Lord Waite spat at the floor. “Your father was a wastrel like you!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:

  “On the contrary, but it is unkind to speak of the dead, is it not?” Everett gestured toward the empty chair. “Please have a seat and I will attempt to unravel this lunacy and hopefully allow you to make some sense of this all.” Before the man spoke, Lord Atten continued. “You are angry, nay, livid—as you have every right to be—that I have kissed your daughter. Which was more than once, though I had no intention to do so even once, but it is something I could not resist. All of this—all of the things you are angriest about were and are because Miss Waite and I have attempted each time to walk away from each other.”

  Lord Waite opened and closed his mouth for a few moments before noisily plopping himself back into the chair. “What is this nonsense?” he finally asked. “What do you mean, you have been attempting to walk away from my daughter?”

  “I am not hoping to ruin her, if that is what you are implying.”

  “It is most certainly what you are doing nonetheless!” he sputtered out. “You young fops think you can go about the world creating compromising situations for unsuspecting misses, but I tell you, it shall not be done! It is the coward’s way, and I will not have it.”

  “You will not have it, or you will not have me?” Everett placed one leg calmly over the other. “I am a bit muddled over that part.”

  “I will have neither!”

  “Just so.”

  “Yes.” The older man thumped his fist upon the arm of the chair.

  “And so why did you call upon me today?”

  “Of all the blazes! I most certainly did not call upon you! I demanded your presence!”

  “And now you have it. What would you wish of me?”

  “To stop being so blasted calm. Sitting there as if we were playing a game of chess.”

  Everett chuckled. “Oh, I assure you, I am much more animated when there is a game of chess about.”

  “Are you?” He seemed intrigued. “Well, then. There is that to say about you.”

  Everett stared across at the angry man and wondered what he was supposed to do next. He knew he was in the wrong. He’d known it the moment he tasted Charity’s lips. “Forgive me. There is much I regret in this world, and kissing your daughter is one of them.”

  “Good. As it should be! Now, what are you going to do about it?”

  He uncrossed his leg and shifted in his seat. “What do you mean?”

  “I cannot have my daughter compromised.”

  “I—er, no, you cannot.” Everett cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Are you implying you wish for me to ask for her hand?” Was he hearing properly?

  “Is that not what you both wish?”

  “I—” Everett’s jaw dropped. “I suppose so. But only a minute ago, you wished to shoot me.”

  “Yes. And as well I should. End these shenanigans before they truly begin. ‘Tis best. But you are too much of a coward to meet me at dawn, which leads me to my next course of action. You must wed the girl.”

  “I fear I am not following.” The young earl was hard-pressed not to smile. In fact, it became nearly impossible when the old coot continued.

  “There are many young lords who naturally wish for my daughter’s hand. I see that you have beat them all to it. However, it pain
s me greatly to admit it. What is it about the Cheswick title that makes the men so irresistible to the women in my life? Must I continue to pay for this ignorance?”

  “I fear you are rambling.”

  “Oh, I know I have left my thoughts far behind. Truth be told, I’m a little overwhelmed at the moment.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, I have slapped a man quite forcefully, and instead of finding myself heading home with the hope of dawn in my thoughts, I am sitting across from that very same man, contemplating my next course of action. It’s deuced odd to be lounging around like this when we should be resting up for a duel.”

  “Well, when you put it that way—”

  “It makes me nervous. I cannot figure out what is black or white anymore.” He glanced around the room again. “And what is worse, I feel some tidbit of respect for you. And I cannot fathom why!”

  Everett took a deep breath, his heart beating strangely within his chest. “Lord Waite, I have wanted to make your acquaintance for years.”

  “Have you?” He glared at him.

  “Yes.” He motioned for a servant to bring in a bottle of port. “I know it seems unconventional, but I have been curious all my life about the only man who has ever been able to get under my father’s skin.”

  “Under it! He is very lucky I didn’t flay him alive!”

  “Well, yes. That is fortunate.” Everett grinned.

  “What a scapegrace. Sitting there as calm as a Sunday morning. Why, I have never met your equal.”

  Everett shook his head. “You flatter me, sir. I am certainly not calm. I have merely attempted to defuse this rage of yours by not taking the bait. I figure that with your years of intelligence and experience, it is best, for my own safety, to sit quietly in the face of danger.”

  “And so it is!” Lord Waite boomed, the first of a smile peeking out. “And so it is! You do best to remember that wisdom, too.”

  “I’m sure I shall.” He chuckled as a servant came forward with a tray of port and glasses. Another smaller boy entered with a platter of meat, cheese, bread, and fruit. Cook could not stand to have a visitor here and she not feed them. “Would you care for some breakfast?”