by Diana Quincy
“I’ve had enough excitement for one evening. I shall retire to my bedchamber,” she said. “But why don’t you gentlemen have a drink in our honor. Though it hardly seems as if you need an excuse to indulge.”
Her glance kept flitting over to the dressing room door. She needed to get Miss Selwyn out of Cam’s bedchamber before the woman stirred up any more trouble.
Selwyn turned to follow the other two men out. “My sincerest felicitations, Camryn. You are a fortunate man, indeed.” He cast a warm smile in Charlotte’s direction as he exited the room, leaving the door slightly ajar to protect what was left of her tattered reputation.
Cam’s warm, golden gaze flashed, his insouciant grin widening. “My dear, I wanted to marry you anyway. I am flattered you would go to all of this trouble to compromise me.”
“Oh, Cam. I did not know what else to do.” Deep distress cramped her stomach. “Now you are going to be bound inextricably to me.”
He sat up, the sleek muscles in his arms flexing from the effort. “Charlotte, there is nothing I would like more than to be inextricably bound to you.” He held out his hand to her, his dancing eyes full of flirtatious intention. “And I confess, I would not mind getting totally bound to you starting right now.”
Nathan charged out of the dressing room with a lethal look on his face. “Keep your drawers on Camryn,” he growled. “Unless you want her other brother to finish the job of killing you.”
Cam’s forehead shot up. “What are you doing in my dressing room?” His mouth fell open when a disheveled-looking, barely clad Miss Selwyn tumbled out after Nathan.
Charlotte spotted the woman’s gown folded neatly on a stool by the bed. She breathed a sigh of relief that nobody else had noticed it before now. She snatched up the dress and pitched it at Miss Selwyn, before pushing the woman back into the dressing room.
“What in blazes do you think you are doing?” Miss Selwyn snapped, her usually perfect golden curls all askew. She tried to slap Charlotte’s hands away. “You are not going to lock me back in there.”
“Do not tempt me.” Charlotte gave Margaret one final shove into the dressing room. “Cover yourself. I won’t have you parading in front of my betrothed looking like a common trollop.”
“I won’t let you get away with this,” Miss Selwyn said, her voice trembling with fury.
“Don’t push me. You’ve no idea what I’m capable of.” Charlotte slammed the dressing room door on the woman’s flushed, outraged face.
Cam slumped back against the plump pillows. “I must be dreaming. Either that or I’m still foxed out of my mind.” He shot Charlotte a naughty glance. “As long as none of it is actually happening, I might as well enjoy this hallucination.” He held open the counterpane, beckoning her, revealing an enticing flash of hard, masculine thigh dusted with amber hairs. “It’s never too early to anticipate the marriage bed, and I can’t tell you how much I’ve anticipated seeing you divested of all of those troublesome garments.”
Nathan’s face flushed. “It is no dream, you bloody arse.” He started toward Cam. “And I am going to give you a thrashing that will most definitely wake you up.”
Choking back a laugh, Charlotte clutched Nathan’s arm. “He’s foxed, Nathan. Let him be.”
Her brother hesitated, looking the other man over in an assessing way. Cam jauntily cocked a questioning brow in response.
The loopy behavior brought a reluctant smile to Nathan’s face. “I believe he’s more than foxed, Lottie.”
“What do you mean?”
“It appears our cunning Miss Selwyn has given him something a bit stronger.”
Violence roiled in her chest. “Why…that…I will throttle her!” She bolted for the dressing room door.
Grabbing her around the waist, he hauled her back to where she started. “Calm yourself, little sister. Enough is enough. You’ve won this round. Let the lovely Miss Selwyn be.” The dressing room door opened. Fully dressed, Miss Selwyn stepped out, patting her hair into place.
“What did you give him, you witch?” Charlotte lunged for her, but Nathan tightened his hold on her waist.
Recoiling, Miss Selwyn scurried for the door. “Stay away from me, you plain sack of bones.”
Charlotte broke free and hurtled after her, slamming the door shut just as Miss Selwyn pulled it open. “You will go nowhere until you tell us exactly what did to Cam.”
“Nothing.” Holding her hands up in a defensive posture, she backed away. “I swear it.”
“Just tell her what she wants to know, Miss Selwyn,” Nathan said. “Your scheme is quite ruined anyway.”
A fleeting look of uncertainty crossed her face. “Fine,” she huffed. “It was just a silly sleeping draught. He’ll be fine in the morning.” She gave Charlotte a disdainful look. “Until, of course, he realizes he is betrothed to you.”
Charlotte thought she heard Nathan chuckle. When she glared at him, he held up his hands in innocence.
Miss Selwyn drew herself up. “He loved me, you know. He worshipped my body.” She cast a disparaging look along Charlotte’s tall, slender form.
Charlotte wanted to pummel her. “He worshipped you to such an extent that you needed to trap him into matrimony?”
“He may have been reluctant at first.” Miss Selwyn’s cold grey gaze drilled into her. “But I can assure you, once he was in my bed, I would have won him over. I am precisely the type of wife a marquess should have. I would make a perfect marchioness.” Her laugh chilled the air. “Do you really think you have saved him by keeping him from me?”
Charlotte winced. In Miss Selwyn, Cam would have had the perfect political wife— beautiful, smart, engaging. Cam might have eventually been won over. In trying to save him, Charlotte might have propelled Cam onto a course he would soon hate her for.
“Do you think a wife with radical thoughts like yours will help further his political career?” Miss Selwyn said. “And furthermore, he is now stuck with a shapeless bluestocking for a wife.”
Cam stirred into a languorous stretch. “Margaret, pardon me for saying so, but when you stand next to Charlotte like that, you do look a little, dare I say, fat?”
Nathan guffawed. Miss Selwyn’s face flushed a crimson red. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, she clamped her lips together and stomped out of the chamber, slamming the door behind her.
Cam watched her go with a confused look on his face. “I say this is a most interesting dream. Charlotte and Margaret in my bedchamber.” He yawned extravagantly. “I just want Charlotte alone, only my beautiful love,” he said softly, drifting off to sleep. Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat, a warm, all-encompassing love for him welled up in her chest again. Tears stung her eyes.
Nathan misunderstood. “Don’t cry, love. Whatever draught she gave him, your marquess will be just fine in the morning. He’ll have a headache perhaps, but I suspect he will be no worse for it.”
A horrible new fear swept over her. Eyeing Cam’s sleeping form, she asked, “Do you think he’ll recall we are supposed to be betrothed when he awakens?”
Nathan’s eyes darkened. “Do not worry, Lottie. We will all see that he does. You can be certain of that.”
She suddenly felt exhausted, weary right to the bone. Light-headed, she swayed on her feet.
Nathan caught her. “Come on, little girl,” he said, using a childhood endearment. “It is not every day that a lady becomes betrothed. Obviously, the excitement has had an effect on you.”
Leaning on her big brother as they walked toward the door, she still had one nagging question. “Nathan, how did you manage to keep that awful woman quiet in the closet?”
“It wasn’t difficult,” he said with a laugh. “Let’s just say Miss Selwyn decided to make the best of the situation.”
For the first time, Charlotte took note of her brother’s swollen mouth and mussed hair, but she was too spent to summon any reaction beyond mild shock. Sighing, she let Nathan guide her back to her room.
…
Late the following morning, Cam found Charlotte taking one of her brisk walks along Fairview Manor grounds. Beyond the estate’s magnificent gardens were endless uncultivated fields punctuated by tree-lined areas and clusters of dense woods.
“There you are,” he said, pulling her up against him. “You aren’t running away from me again, are you?”
“Cam.” She pushed away. “We mustn’t.”
“Oh now, I will have none of that.” His eyes twinkling, he snuggled her against his lean, molded form. “Do say you won’t deny me the sweet honey found only upon the lips of my betrothed.”
Relenting, she allowed her body to fall against him. A part of her was relieved he remembered their betrothal, the other profoundly fearful because she had no choice but to tell him the truth now. Before their betrothal went any further.
His lips sought hers, opening them and reaching in to taste her. He kissed her so thoroughly, so deliciously, that her legs turned immediately to butter.
“Charlotte,” he murmured, his lips moving to her throat, playfully nipping and licking her.
She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in him, yet somehow she found the strength to pull away.
His eyes clouded. “What is it, now?” The beautiful planes of his face hardened. “Surely you don’t mean to break our betrothal?”
“No, I fear I will never be able to bring myself to leave you again.” Her heart ached with the depth of her love for him. “I cannot wait to be your wife.”
He grinned, flashing a wide row of pearly teeth. “I am relieved to hear it.” He reached for her again and wrapped his arms around her waist so that their lower bodies were all but melded together. She could easily feel the evidence of his devotion to her. Heat suffused her body.
“So tell me, darling, why are you frowning? You’re not worried I feel tricked into this engagement. You know I have desired it for quite a while.”
She licked her lips. “No, it is not that. I should tell you what happened last night.”
He swooped down to kiss her, his hands still holding their bodies together. “No need. Your brother, Fuller, was kind enough to fill in the particulars before pointing me in your direction just now. He was concerned I wouldn’t remember our betrothal.”
She examined his face, trying not to be distracted by the feel of his hardening flesh against her belly. “And did you?”
He smiled softly. “How could I not? Admittedly, there are serious gaps in my recall of last evening, but our betrothal is not something I could ever forget, under any circumstances.” Still clasping her against him with one hand, Cam’s other hand wandered to Charlotte’s bodice and his fingers feathered along the upper swells of her breasts. “As your husband, I cannot wait to discover the delicious mysteries you are hiding.”
“And what of Miss Selwyn?”
“Fortunately, she and her brother departed early this morning. It seems Selwyn recalled an urgent appointment.” He bent to kiss her décolletage. “She is a reaching, deceitful, calculating witch,” he murmured against her chest, immersed in his task. “I cannot wait to show you how grateful I am to you for saving me from her machinations.”
Charlotte melted into his touch, warmth spreading through her. “I could not have done it without Nathan.”
He reached in to cup her bare breast beneath her blouse, his finger running over the tip, which immediately tightened. “I will thank him as well, but will definitely have to find some other way to show my gratitude.”
“Stop, please.” She forced herself to pull away from him. Adjusting her blouse, she said, “I must tell you my family secret so you will enter this union with your eyes completely open.”
Frowning, he reached for her, but she sidestepped and angled her body to elude his grasp.
“If you must tell me, please do so quickly so we can return to what we were doing.” The hungry heat in his eyes made her heart go heavy in her chest. Would he still want her after he learned the truth?
“I must have your word as a gentleman that what I’m about to confess goes no further. You must keep my secret safe no matter how much it pains you.”
Appearing somewhat startled by the intensity of her demeanor, he inclined his chin. “Of course.”
“It has to do with Nathan.”
“Go on.”
“There is no easy way to do this, so I will just say it.” Her insides trembling, she took a deep breath for courage. “Nathan is a Luddite. And more than that, he was one of their leaders, an organizer of their efforts.”
“How can that be?” Frowning, he rubbed his chin. “Fuller isn’t a mill worker.”
“He was briefly, when he first left Shellborne Manor.”
He blanched, his arms dropping to his sides. “It cannot be.”
“You must comprehend his position.” Chills shivered through her body, her fingers cold. “Conditions were abominable and the weavers were losing everything.”
“A Luddite?” He pressed a fist against his mouth. “Fuller is a leader of those machine-breaking killers?”
“Not a killer. Never that.” The words were urgent, desperate. “Nathan possesses a strong sense of fairness and justice. He is propelled by right and wrong.”
“Right and wrong?” Cam stared at her. “Are you suggesting it is right to vandalize and destroy industry? That it is just to kill those who champion or embrace progress?”
“No, of course not. It was an error in judgment perhaps—”
“An error in judgment?” His voice rose in strident disbelief. “They ambushed and murdered that mill owner in Marsden, Charlotte. That is murder. Not a damned error in judgment.”
He didn’t understand. Maybe he never would. But she had to try. “He is not a killer. Nathan has not had a hand in any deaths. I swear it.”
“Is that what he tells you?” He regarded her with a new watchfulness, a profound wariness that stung her. “Has it ever occurred to you that he is lying?”
“He is my brother. I know him. Nathan was there at the inception of the rebellion. Yes, he is one of the leading, founding members.” She swallowed hard against the rising panic in her throat. “But, no, he does not believe in violence against people. And he has come to believe machine wrecking is useless in the face of progress.”
“Are you saying he is reformed? Did he find the righteous path before or after he attacked our looms?”
“He had nothing to do with the machine breaking at your mill because he has pulled away from the Luddites.” She wiped cold, damp palms against her skirt. “He believes they have gotten out of hand. That their efforts are futile in any case.”
“Does that mean he has broken with them?” A muscle jerked in his neck. “Will he work with the magistrate to identify the guilty?”
“He does not believe violence is the answer.” She shook her head slowly, the words quiet with resignation. “But no. He will never turn traitor to the workers. He stays among them to try to coax them to take a different approach. He will lose all influence if he leaves the movement outright.”
“Is that what he tells you so that both of you can sleep at night?”
Angry defiance flared in her. “Do not take that tone with me. You pushed for this entanglement, not I. I told you to leave it be.” She struggled to level her tone. “Look at how hard Nathan works, how much he has advanced at Fairview Manor in just a short period of time. Surely you do not believe he sneaks off in the night to break machines?”
Cam studied her, a frozen expression on his face. Finally Charlotte couldn’t bear the heavy silence. “Say something.”
He exhaled, his face haggard. “What do you want me to say? That I am staggered by the depth of this betrayal?”
“That is not fair.” Unshed tears ached in her throat. “I have never been disloyal to you.”
“How you must have mocked me.” He pressed his palms against his eyes, his voice both weary and tinged with hurt. “Did you laugh, Charlotte, while I raged again
st the machine breakers? Did it amuse you to hear us speak of the troubles at the supper table when you knew the culprit was right there under our noses?”
Desperate to make him understand, she reached out to touch him. “No, it wasn’t that way.”
He recoiled. “By God, how you and your law-breaking brother must have laughed. To think Hartwell unknowingly financed the attacks against his very own interests.”
“I have never found any of this remotely amusing.” A jagged piece of iron seemed to be twisting hard in her chest. “How can you even think such a thing, much less suggest it?”
He searched her face with a pained expression. “Has it all been a lie? Were you willing to warm my bed in order to protect your brother?”
She ached to throw her arms around him, to reassure him of her love. “You must know I would never whore myself for anyone, not even Nathan.”
“I championed the effort to make machine wrecking punishable by death, Charlotte. How my political enemies will gloat should they learn of this mockery.” He shook his head and paced away from her, dragging both hands through his hair in a familiar gesture that made her heart twinge. “Perhaps they will even accuse me of treachery. And now that I know the truth, if I marry the Luddite’s sister and keep quiet, I will, in fact, be a traitor.”
His words were a vise clamping down on her heart. “Why do you think I have avoided a connection with you? I knew the untenable position this would put you in.”
“Untenable?” He gave a cracked laugh. “Yes, I suppose you could say it is untenable to harbor a murderer.”
“No, never a murderer!” she cried. “You must believe me. Nathan aspires to be Hartwell’s steward. The duke’s current steward is nearing retirement. Nathan has already begun doing some of the books. Why would he work so hard to better himself if he intended to stay actively involved in the rebellion?”
“I hope for your sake Fuller speaks the truth. Machine wrecking is now punishable by death. If Fuller is caught in the act, I give you my word as a gentleman that I will see him hanged.”
