A Touch of Temptation: House of Devon Book 2

by St. Clair, Ellie

  Reeves held up a hand as they reached the duke’s study doors. “I must go advise His Grace. I will return in a moment.”

  With that, he was through the doors, leaving Charlotte and Philip looking at one another in bewilderment.

  “This cannot be,” she said with some desperation as the gravity of the situation began to sink into her. “Philip, what do I do if he asks me to leave?”

  “He won’t,” Philip said fiercely. “I will not allow it.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment,” she said in truth, her heart warming at his declaration. It wasn’t exactly one of love, but she appreciated it nonetheless. “I don’t know, however, what we can do now. But Philip… I must have been set up,” she said. “Will you help me find out who it was, help me clear my name?”

  “Of course,” he said as the door opened and Reeves looked through the crack.

  “We are ready for you Charlotte,” he said, not unkindly, though he looked up at Philip and shook his head, telling him that he must remain on the other side. Philip reached out and squeezed her hand before she slipped through the door.

  Charlotte had been within the room many times before. She had scrubbed the mahogany desk until it shone, had dusted the matching panels on the walls. She had ensured the large paned windows were clear, and usually enjoyed the scent of leather-bound volumes and the duke’s cologne that filled the room.

  But at the moment she was more concerned with the man himself, who sat behind the desk with his usual stern expression. Today, however, he looked particularly troubled, and he ran a hand through his hair as Charlotte entered.

  “Charlotte, please sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. She nodded, taking a seat while Reeves stood near the doorway.

  “Reeves has advised me of all that he found in your quarters, and of the fact that you were the last to be with many of the items that went missing.”

  “Yes, your grace, but—”

  He held up a hand, and Charlotte instantly shut her mouth. In her eagerness to defend herself, she had forgotten her station.

  “My apologies,” she said softly, and the duke continued.

  “I would prefer not to believe this, Charlotte. You have been a part of the Devon family your entire life, and I wouldn’t think that you would ever repay us like this. I hope that you feel we have been fair to you.”

  She nodded. “Of course, your grace.”

  “Would you care to defend yourself in any way?”

  She nodded. “Yes, thank you, your grace,” she said before looking up at him, meeting his blue gaze imploringly. “I would never, ever do anything that might hurt you or your family. I have been so appreciative of all you have done for me, of the work I have here. All I can think of is that someone has made it seem as though I am the thief.”

  “Would anyone in the household hold a grudge against you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Except, perhaps, the new lady’s maid…”

  She didn’t know how to put her suspicions into words. She had no evidence, just intuition. Was that enough to say to the duke?

  “Yes?” he intoned.

  Charlotte didn’t feel it was her place to accuse another without evidence. Not when she could be wrong.

  “Would you provide me with the opportunity to clear my name, your grace?” she asked. “Please, just a couple of days?”

  “Of course,” he said before his stern countenance gentled somewhat. “You have given us years of service, Charlotte, as did your parents. The least we can do is provide you with the opportunity to prove yourself innocent.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a hesitant smile.

  “You may go,” he said now, and when Charlotte left, followed by Reeves, she could tell that Philip had heard the entire exchange. She opened her mouth to tell him all was fine, when he astonished her by brushing by her and into the room.

  “Your grace,” he said, his voice not disrespectful but holding a touch of anger. “This is preposterous and I must speak with you about it.”

  Chapter 7

  Philip didn’t know what came over him. One moment he was standing outside the duke’s study, waiting for Charlotte in order to assure her that all would be well. He had her heard exchange with the duke.

  But then, when he saw her come out looking so defeated, so crestfallen, he knew he had to do something. Whether or not she had any sort of feelings beyond their friendship for him, he had no idea, but he was overcome with a sense of protection for her.

  “Philip,” she said, reaching for his sleeve, but he shook her off and stepped through the door.

  “Your grace,” he said with a bow, not completely forgetting propriety.

  “Philip,” the duke said, coming around his desk now, his countenance stern. “I would think carefully, son, about what you have to say next.”

  Philip took a breath. He was about to tell him exactly what he thought, but then Charlotte called his name again and a bit of rational thought invaded. He would be of no help to anyone if he got himself dismissed. He would be rational. Reasonable. He would do it for Charlotte. He tempered somewhat, remembering that the duke was a fair man.

  “Your grace, I would like to respectfully note that there is no way that Charlotte is responsible for theft. She loves this family as her own, and she has wanted nothing more than to move up in position in this household.”

  “I understand, Philip. And I have given her the opportunity to provide me evidence to the contrary,” the duke said.

  “What of the new servants?” Philip asked. “I do not trust Wright, your grace, and I think—”

  “Do you have any proof?”

  Philip paused. “Well… no.”

  “My wife’s cousin recommended them to us in her will, imploring us to look after them. I can hardly see why they would do anything untoward. That being said, I also appreciate Charlotte’s loyalty and I am hesitant to believe that she has committed such acts as well. Help her, then, Philip, and then come to me with an explanation.”

  Philip could sense the dismissal in his words, and he nodded before taking a step backward, feeling helpless, unable to do anything else for Charlotte.

  He began to walk to the door, seeing Charlotte and Reeves awaiting him on the other side.

  “Oh, and Philip?”

  He turned. “Yes, your grace?”

  “You have involved yourself in a matter that has very little to do with you, and could, in fact, risk your position here with us. What are your intentions toward Charlotte?”

  Philip looked back at Charlotte standing in the doorway, the bemusement on her face matching the duke’s.

  “Why, I’m going to marry her,” he said.

  * * *

  “Philip.” Charlotte hurried after him as he strode down the hall. Why did he always have to take such huge steps? Her short legs could hardly ever keep up. “Philip, did you mean it?” She tugged at his sleeve.

  “Of course. We’ll get to the bottom of this, Charlotte, I promise you.”

  She rolled her eyes. Philip always focused on what was right in front of him, and was not thinking that there could be more to her question.

  “Not that, Philip. I was referring to what you told the duke in answer to his question. Do you actually want to marry me?”

  He stopped, and Charlotte looked around, finding that they were standing in the main hall. The large, ornate gold-toned room included padded chairs lining the far wall on either side of the double doors, but the large windows and high ceiling seemed far too open for just the two of them.

  He looked down at her as though it was the first time he had actually considered her question.

  “Well…” he began, hesitant at first until finally a firm, confident look settled over his face, “yes, I suppose I do.”

  “But what about Lily?”

  He took a step closer to her. “Charlotte—”

  “There you are!” Daisy, the governess and Abigail’s sister, came
rushing through the door toward them, and Charlotte took a step back from Philip. She was happy to see Daisy, but she wished she had timed her interruption a little more appropriately, for Charlotte was desperate to hear what Philip had to say. “Oh, Charlotte, I’ve heard all that has occurred, and I am so sorry. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” Charlotte said. “Thank you, Daisy.”

  Daisy nodded and rushed out of the room, likely back to her charges. Charlotte turned to Philip, but he seemed to have moved on from their conversation, obviously now returned to their initial troubles.

  “There’s to be a house party soon,” he mused. “It will be full of lords and ladies who will likely bring with them all of their jewels and such. If someone was going to steal, it would be then, would it not?”

  Charlotte nodded slowly. “It would.”

  “We’ll set up a trap, then, and catch them in the act,” he said, his jaw set. “I’ve got you, Charlotte.”

  She managed a small smile. His words warmed her heart, and yet part of her was worried. What would happen when this was all over, when they solved it all? Was this all a charade, and was he now enjoying acting the part of her protector? She had no idea, and she didn’t know how to ask. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  * * *

  Charlotte couldn’t fall asleep. She turned over in the bed, attempting not to wake Ellen, who slept in the bed next to hers. She loved most of the other staff here, truly she did, but one of the reasons she had hoped to become a lady’s maid was so that she could have her own chamber. It would be a small one, but it would still be her own.

  She stared up at the roof above her head, her mind and her heart equally in turmoil. The truth was, she was hurt. How could the people who had known her all of her life believe such a thing about her? Yes, the evidence was there, she knew that, but could not their knowledge of her, of who she was and all that she loved about them, mean more than the fact that the items had been located in her apparent possession?

  She angrily brushed a tear off of her cheek.

  And then there was Philip. When he had charged into the duke’s study today, her heart had surged at his defense of her. Here was someone who believed her, no matter what anyone else said or what was laid before him. Whatever happened between them, she would always appreciate his friendship and all that he had done for her, especially at this time.

  She sighed as she thought of him. For the truth was, while she would always be his friend, everything had changed. After that kiss, after his loyalty to her… she wanted far more than friendship.

  He had been about to say something to her today, before Daisy had interrupted them. But what? Would he raise the subject again? And when he told the duke he was going to marry her… did he mean it?

  Blast it all. She had to know, or she didn’t think she would ever sleep again. And what kind of day would that bring tomorrow?

  Charlotte slipped out of bed as gingerly as she could so as not to wake the other maids, then tiptoed past their beds, which lined this part of the attic, where all of the female underservants slept. She slipped down the stairs to the first story which housed the family apartments, praying that no one would see her. She knew this was foolhardy. If she was found now, it would further the case against her, to know she was sneaking around the manor at night.

  She had lived here long enough to know where Philip slept, but she didn’t dare risk knocking, for his room bordered William’s dressing room. Instead, she twisted the doorknob, finding that her hands were slick with perspiration as she worried about what Philip would think when he saw her enter. Would he welcome her, or would he ask her to leave? She wasn’t sure how she could bear the humiliation if he did the latter.

  She paused for a moment as she considered it, but finally decided that not knowing was far worse, and she took a deep breath, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.

  He immediately jolted up in bed.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded, and she shushed him quickly.

  “It’s just me.”

  “Charlotte?”

  “Who else would be entering your bedchamber at this time of night?”

  “Well, it’s not as though you ever have before,” he countered, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Do you always have to argue with me?”

  “Only when I’m confused.”

  “Oh, Philip,” she said, her words coming out part-laughter and part-sigh as she stood just within the door, suddenly quite unsure about her decision to come here. This was rather stupid. She should have just stayed in her bed.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked, and she looked down at her hands, wringing them together.

  “Yes,” she said, but when her voice broke, he pushed back the covers.

  “Charlotte.”

  “Nothing is all right, Philip,” she said, hating the vulnerability in her tone, but unable to mask it.

  “Come here,” he said, opening his arms up to her, and she went to them, letting herself be enveloped by them. “I told you we’d figure it out. Don’t you trust me?”

  She leaned back away from him. “I do appreciate that, Philip, truly I do, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  “No?”

  She took a breath and then the words came out quickly, before she could lose her courage.

  “Philip, today when you told the duke you wanted to marry me, you said you meant it. Did you truly? When all this is over, do you still want to be with me?”

  He leaned back, bringing his hands to the side of her face before smoothing one over the plait that ran down her back. He wrapped the end around his hand before tugging on it as he always did, but this time there was more to the motion than his usual teasing.

  His smile crooked as his eyes raked over her face.

  “If you had asked me this a week ago, I would have said no.”

  Her heart dropped. Of course, he hadn’t meant it. Philip was not much over twenty, and was not the type to want to settle down.

  “But now… the thought of not having you is worse than the thought of being married.”

  She snorted.

  “Why, Philip, you are so romantic.”

  He was already shaking his head. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “No?” she cocked her head. “Philip, I need you to tell me what you want. I don’t want to be with you because I am a second choice, or because you have some need to possess me. If we are to be together, it must be because you want me. And no one else, Philip.” She gave him a hard look. “Do you understand?”

  He tapped her on the nose with a finger.

  “Understood.”

  “Philip, I am being serious.”

  “I know.” He sobered. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I’m not very good at this. But the truth is, I wouldn’t do this with anyone but you. You’re the only woman who could ever truly matter to me. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “I suppose I do. But are you ready for this, Philip?”

  “I am,” he said, though Charlotte wondered if that was a slight bit of hesitation she saw in his eyes.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he insisted. “Now, love, the question is – how soon do you want to be married?”

  Charlotte smiled at his words as warmth began to blossom from her heart, spreading out through her limbs. Married. She could hardly conceive of the thought. And to Philip.

  “Once all the rest of this is finished,” she said, bringing her hands up to his face, her fingers brushing over the stubble on his cheeks, the feeling of it sending tingles through her, down to her very core where she yearned for him. “Until then…”

  He took her hands in his firmly, holding them between them. “Until then, you should return to the attic.”

  “Or…”

  He shook his head. “Or nothing.”

  But she was well aware that his words belied how he truly felt
. She looked up at him imploringly, searching out what was lurking underneath them.

  “Philip,” she said, her voice soft, and when she shifted on his lap, he winced. “I don’t know how long this is going to take to resolve, or what the outcome is might be. I could end up removed from the household, for all I know. But right now, at this moment? I want to be with you.”

  “You are with me,” he said, his words strangled.

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” she admonished. “I mean that I want to be with you – fully, physically, in every way possible. Please, Philip – will you make love to me?”

  Chapter 8

  Oh, dear lord. She had no idea what she was doing to him with that question. He knew how he ought to answer her. He should tell her to return to her room and to not ask him that again until their marriage night.

  But what he knew he should do and what he yearned to do with every part of him were at complete opposite spectrums of one another.

  For when she sat on his lap like she was, her firm bottom pressing against him, her curls haphazardly sticking out of her plait… she was too tempting to resist.

  He couldn’t completely deny her, that was for sure. He’d kiss her, that was all. He placed his lips against hers and began to caress them, relishing the soft pliancy of her mouth. He hadn’t realized the depth of the passion she held within her, and he took it all from her and gave it back in equal measure.

  It was she who sought out entry into his mouth, her tongue tangling with his. It was her arms who came around his back, holding him tight against her. He was drowning in her, awash in the depths of the ardor pouring out of her.

  “Charlotte,” he groaned as his fingers fisted into her hair, wrapping the tendrils of curls around them. How had he never realized that her hair was as soft as the finest of silks? It was a shame it was covered all day in that mobcap of hers.

  She shifted in his lap, causing all sorts of painful yet all too pleasant sensations to run through him. She was attempting to turn toward him, but the fabric of her nightdress kept coming between them. He finally took pity on her and helped her by lifting it up so that it was near to around her waist, although all that succeeded in doing was bringing her heat so much closer toward him.