Seducing Charlotte

by Diana Quincy

  She nodded, but the way she bit her plump lower lip suggested he hadn’t quite convinced her. Retreating back to the window, she became very still.

  …

  Anxious to see Nathan, Charlotte stole away to the stables as soon as she could. She found him in a stall brushing down a magnificent grey. Stroking the coarse fur on the beast’s twitching neck, she admired its powerful muscled form and elegant carriage. “What a splendid creature.”

  “Hartwell purchased her at Tattersall’s.” Nathan brushed the animal’s glistening flanks. “She was delivered this morning from London.”

  “His Grace, you mean. Nathan, you must take care to address the duke properly.”

  The brush stilled. “He is not here at this moment is he, Charlotte?” Scorn tinged the quiet words. “It’s only you and me. Have you come up here to give me lessons in deportment or is there another reason for your visit?”

  Stung, she crossed her arms. “Since when must I have a reason to spend time in your company?”

  “It’s apparent you have something on your mind, Lottie.” Moving around the mount, he resumed brushing in long, firm strokes, from the animal’s arched neck all the way to its hindquarters. “Why don’t you just come out with it?”

  She glanced around to make sure they weren’t being overheard, and saw they were alone except for a few grooms at the far end of the cavernous stable. “The constable came up to visit.”

  “I heard.” His masculine, work-roughened hands slid over the mare’s pale gray coat.

  “It might not be safe for you here any longer. The Luddites are on a rampage, and Cam says the crown is calling out 12,000 troops to protect the factories.”

  His arm paused. “Cam is it now?”

  Ignoring the implication, Charlotte rushed on. “The constable says they have reason to believe Ned Ludd himself is in the vicinity.”

  “How did you find your visit to Camryn’s factory? I hear it’s quite impressive.”

  “There is going to be no stopping the machines, Nate. It was so clear to me. If you could have seen it—”

  “I have seen it, Lottie, as you well know.” His soft blue gaze probed her face. “I also understand that you and Camryn went off together alone.”

  Frowning, she leaned back against the stall rail, propping her elbows over it behind her. “Who informed you of that?” Nathan had not driven the coach yesterday in anticipation of the horse delivery. The second coachman had gone instead.

  “All of the under coachmen are part of my staff, Charlotte. I hear what happens.”

  “They would have no way of knowing that.” She curled her lip. “I would guess it was Molly who gave you that little bit of information. I should have her dismissed.”

  “Yes, you are, after all, a baron’s daughter.” He shook his head. “You should get that poor girl put out so she will have no place to go. But she is comely, so I suppose she can always toss up her skirts for a shilling.”

  “There is no need to be rude,” she said sharply, her face heating. “Why do you ask about the marquess? It sounds to me as though you and Molly are very amiable toward one another. Perhaps too much so.”

  “Even if that were the case, it should not be of concern to you.” He spoke in a low, biting tone. “She is a servant, after all, which means she is of my class.”

  Charlotte’s temper flared. “Why are you being so churlish?”

  Anger flashed in Nathan’s blue eyes. He stopped brushing and stepped toward her. “Are you tired of fighting for the poor and the beleaguered, Charlotte? Did their concerns escape your mind once your marquess had his hand down your blouse?”

  She slapped him, hard and fast, reacting almost before she knew what she was doing. “How dare you!”

  Snatching her wrist in an iron hold, he leaned in, his tone dark with warning. “Do not ever do that again. I am not your servant, Charlotte. You’d best not forget it.”

  “Take your hands off her.”

  The low, taut snarl made the hair rise on the back of her neck. She spun around. His boot-clad feed planted wide apart, raw violence etched in every line of Cam’s granitic face.

  “Lord Camryn.” Nathan’s mouth twisted into a daring sneer. He tightened his grasp on Charlotte’s wrist even as she tried to wrestle it away. Alarm twisted her stomach.

  “Cam, he isn’t hurting me.” She spoke in calm, soothing tones despite the nervous fear rioting in her stomach. “It is a simple misunderstanding.”

  “He dares to insult you with his insolence.” His long fingers curled into fists by his sides, his savage gaze locked on Nathan. “And he still has his hands on you.”

  The strength went out of her legs. He’d heard Nathan’s crass insult. Of course, both she and Cam knew it had gone much further between them yesterday in the schoolroom.

  “Do not be a fool,” she said to Nathan with quiet desperation, trying to wrest her arm away. “Think, Nathan, think.”

  A cold calm seemed to come over him. Abruptly releasing her, he leaned a shoulder insolently against the side of the stall. His eyes remained locked with Cam’s, still lit by a blatant look of challenge. Terrified one of the men would erupt, she positioned herself between the two.

  Turning to Cam, she put her hands flat against his hard, tense chest. “Escort me back to the manor, my lord. Please.”

  Cam maintained his visual standoff with Nathan. “Apologize to the lady.”

  Nathan’s answering laugh curled her blood. Cam’s furious heartbeat slammed beneath her hands. She whirled her panicked gaze over to Nathan, settling an imploring look on him.

  His eyes darted away. “My apologies, Miss Livingston,” he finally said tonelessly.

  Furor still seemed to reverberate through Cam, as though a maddening din still clamored in his head. He looked down to where her hands were still splayed out across his chest.

  She pulled her hands away. “There now, it is done.” Charlotte forced lightness into her voice. “Come, Camryn. The misunderstanding is all cleared up.” When he still did not move, she ran her hand over his tense arm. Heat burned through her at the feel of Cam’s muscles twitching under her touch.

  “Please, Cam, please,” she said in soft, intimate tones. He spun around and stalked out of the stable. Charlotte cast Nathan one final look of warning before hurrying after him.

  “Cam!” She ran to catch up with him, but had difficulty keeping pace with his strident steps. “Stop please or at least slow down before I trip over these blasted skirts.”

  He halted, hands on his hips. “What is it, Charlotte?”

  “Please, I implore you not to speak of this to Hartwell. Nathan could lose his position.”

  “You would protect him, after he insults and misuses you?” He directed a bitter laugh toward the heavens. “I begin to see why you decline my suit. Obviously, I don’t know the first thing about treating you with the contempt you so clearly think you deserve.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Why do you let him treat you so? Do you feel guilty because you were to the manor born and he was not? Does it assuage your guilt to let the lower classes insult and degrade you?” He shook his head with obvious disgust. “You are not the woman I thought you were.”

  Charlotte’s stomach cramped. “You do not know me at all. You cannot.”

  He uttered a derisive sound. “On that we agree. The person I perceived you to be is the smartest and most humane woman I have had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with, a woman who speaks her mind, who is full of visions for the future that fire my blood and take my breath away. A woman who satisfies every hunger in me, who answers questions in my very soul I did not even know I had.” He spat the words out, as though he found them distasteful. “Not a weak or fearful woman who refuses to reach for what she wants. Not a liar. Not a woman who cowers in front of any man, much less a servant.”

  Charlotte’s world spun. She had that effect on him? “You do not understand.”

  “No, I don’t,” he
said bitterly. “And you won’t explain it to me, will you.” It was not a question. By now he knew what to expect from her. Cam brushed by her, stalking toward the manor.

  Tears gathered in her eyes. Watching a blurry image of the retreating golden warrior fade into the afternoon light, it was all she could do not to run after him and throw herself into his arms, begging him to hold on to her forever, even though it could never be.

  …

  That evening, Charlotte pleaded a headache and took supper in her room. Her head actually did pound and she didn’t feel capable of facing Cam. Not when his words still reverberated in her mind and her body ached for his touch. Not when she longed to throw caution away, to launch herself into Cam’s arms and trust him with the truth. She replayed his words over and over again in her mind. She fired his senses? She spoke to his soul? That she could affect him so was both exciting and overwhelming. And impossible. Unfathomable because it put someone she loved at risk and she could not chance it.

  Splayed facedown across the bed, a tap at her chamber door punctured her misery. Expecting Molly, she was surprised to see Willa instead, a look of concern marring her perfect face.

  “Are you unwell?” she asked, coming across the room.

  “I’ve made a mess of things.” She flopped ungracefully over onto her back, staring up at the velvet burgundy canopy above her bed. “Mostly because I am the most hopeless liar alive.”

  Willa climbed carefully up on the bed, still managing to look elegant despite her growing girth, and propped herself up against the carved wood bedpost. Charlotte switched positions to lie down next to Willa’s seated form.

  “I knew something was wrong.” She reached over to stroke Charlotte’s hair in smooth, comforting motions. “You have seemed out of sorts for days now. Will you tell me what is paining you?”

  “No. It is to do with Cam.” She swallowed back the tears knotting at the back of her throat. “He’s your cousin, practically your brother, really. It would put you in an awkward position.”

  “Hush,” she said firmly. “As your friend, you must let me help. Has he been hateful to you? If he has, I’ll put a stop to it.”

  “I wish he’d been hateful. That would be so much easier.” Feeling soothed by the comforting movements of Willa’s hands over her hair, she sighed. “It’s the opposite. He wants to marry me.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Willa exclaimed with a delighted laugh. “I knew you two would suit. We will be cousins.”

  “I refused him.”

  “What?” Her smile melted. “Why? Anyone can see the two of you are besotted with each other. Even Hart sees it and he doesn’t notice anything unless it’s connected to industry.”

  “Or you.”

  “Charlotte, marriage to the right man can be wonderful. Sometimes I still cannot believe how fortunate I am to be Hart’s wife. And now you have that chance with Cam.”

  It was easy to see how much her beautiful friend loved her husband, how well suited the duke and duchess were. A pang of longing knifed through her. “How did you know Hartwell was right for you? Of all of your suitors and the offers you received, how did you know to choose so wisely?”

  “It wasn’t so difficult.” Willa let out a quiet laugh. “Aside from fortune hunters, Hart was the only man who ever asked for me.”

  Charlotte’s mouth fell open. “How is that possible? You’re easily the most beautiful woman in London. And you didn’t marry until you were three-and-twenty. I always assumed you declined other suitors before Hartwell.”

  Willa smiled ruefully. “It’s a long and sometimes unpleasant story. Someday perhaps, I shall tell you all about it. But not now. At this moment, I am most anxious to know why you would spurn Cam’s offer.”

  “I have secrets, Willa.” The words came tumbling out. “Blasted, ruinous secrets about my brother that could be devastating and hugely embarrassing for someone like Cam, were we to marry.” Sitting up, she faced her friend’s shocked expression. “You said yourself that your cousin is gaining prominence in the Lords. If he married me and all was revealed, he would be ruined. His political career would be in tatters. His reputation destroyed.”

  “I’m speechless.” Willa put a hand to her throat, a look of astonished disbelief carved into her face. “What terrible secret could Shellborne possibly have?”

  “I have already said too much.” Emotion roiled in her chest. “But now you know why I can never marry Cam. He would hate me in the end and I couldn’t bear that.”

  A frown line marred the space between Willa’s perfectly arched brows. “Charlotte, there must be a way. Perhaps if you confide further in me we could find a suitable solution.”

  “No.” She shook her head with adamancy. “There is no way. I have already said too much.”

  After Willa left her, Charlotte kept replaying their conversation. It had been such a relief to be able confide in her friend. But now that sense of release gave way to a feeling of despair. Voicing her concerns aloud made them seem even more insurmountable.

  Restless, with little desire to be left alone with her thoughts and craving her friend’s comforting presence, she went in search of Willa. Disappointed to find the upstairs sitting room empty and dark, she went below stairs where a servant directed her to the back terrace. She quickened her step in that direction, anxious to escape her blackening mood.

  Her heart lifted when she spotted Willa standing on the terrace, but she halted abruptly when the duke also came into view. Hartwell stood tall and dark with sharp-cut features that made him look intimidating, but the way his whole being softened when he gazed at Willa robbed Charlotte of breath.

  One hand resting on his wife’s burgeoning belly, the duke stroked his wife’s cheek with the other. Charlotte couldn’t hear what he said, but Willa gave a throaty laugh and looked up at him with luminous eyes, placing her own hand over her husband’s, where it rested on her cheek. He murmured something and she laughed again as Hartwell dipped to kiss his wife’s neck. The moonlight cast a bluish glow over the lovers, the night shadows dancing across them when they moved.

  Hartwell took his time, moving his lips down his wife’s neck to the upper swells of her breasts. When he finally moved languidly back up his wife’s neck, Willa put her arms around him and eagerly met his lips. Their kiss was full and gently passionate, an unguarded moment between husband and wife, an exclusive communion no one else could share.

  Watching them, Charlotte grasped the difference between this and what she had witnessed between Cam and Maria Fitzharding in the garden last spring. That act had been purely physical and completely devoid of intimacy. It seemed hollow and meaningless compared to the robust grace of Willa and Hartwell’s mutual demonstration of love. The unexpected exquisiteness of the moment stabbed at her heart. What must it be like to be loved so completely by a man?

  “She is the world to him.”

  The smooth timbre of Cam’s voice reverberated through her, the heat of his body behind hers radiated over her neck and back. “Yes.” She locked her gaze on Hartwell and Willa, now in a loose embrace, murmuring to each other.

  “He fought for her. Did you know that?” The words, low and deep, were like velvet across her senses. “They almost lost each other because another man had been obsessed with her for years.”

  She hadn’t known that. Willa had been married for a few months when Charlotte first met her. Perhaps her friend had made the vaguest reference to it during their talk earlier this evening. It occurred to Charlotte that she’d like to hear the story someday.

  She remained rooted in her spot. Although Cam wasn’t touching her, he stood close enough for his musky masculinity to wrap itself around her.

  “Hartwell destroyed the man. Ruined him completely.”

  The couple’s embrace ended and the duke took his wife’s hand to lead her inside. They disappeared into the manor, still unaware they were being watched, their soft laughter and murmurs growing fainter. The warmth of Cam’s breath brushed her che
ek, his voice so faint it was almost a whisper. “Would you fight for love, Charlotte? No matter what the cost?”

  Her chest felt painfully hollow. “I don’t know.” But of course she already had. Just not in the way he meant.

  “Don’t you?” His face lowered to the side of her bare neck. The warmth of his lips, the roughness of the skin on his cheek, slid across her sensitive skin. He inhaled, as if savoring her essence. “I would, you know. I would not just fight. I would claw and scrape for it. I would, apparently, suffer untold humiliation for it. For you.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. Closing her eyes to shut out the pain, she whispered, “Don’t. Stop, please.”

  “I find,” he said in a strained voice, his lips still against her neck, “that I cannot stop.” He kissed her neck and lingered there, as though it was the only spot on earth worth paying attention to.

  Her body rushed with physical pleasure. She shook her head, a sob escaping her throat. “This is impossible.”

  Placing his large hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him, his intense face just inches from hers. “Tell me why,” he said fiercely. “Tell me.”

  She heard the urgency in his voice and wanted to answer it, but could not. “There is another.”

  “Liar.”

  The tears continued to flow. She gave up trying to stop them. “There is another.”

  Cam’s eyes clouded. “Liar,” he said softly. He made no effort to stop her when she pulled away from him and ran back to her room.

  …

  She stood in the schoolroom watching the laughing children tumble outside to play. Charlotte tried to follow but could not find the door. Feeling helpless, she banged on the walls and wondered why no one seemed to hear her.

  She peered out the window, catching sight of Cam coming to greet the children. His golden-green eyes glittered when he smiled, leading them in a game. The children crowded around Cam, the sounds of their happy shouts and excited chatter drifted toward her. She tried to call out to them, but could not find her voice. Determined to find a way out, Charlotte fought back tears of angry frustration.