Her generous breasts were pressed against his chest, with only her thin nightdress and his own shirt between them. It was too much. He lifted a hand to cup them, molding them into his hands. He felt rather than heard her moan, and he kissed her even harder to make sure her cries wouldn’t grow in volume.
That was all he needed, for William to find the two of them here in this room together. Charlotte arched into him, and, needing a better angle through which to explore her, Philip turned with her in his arms and stretched her out on top of his narrow bed. There wasn’t much room in it for the two of them, but as long as they remained close, they would be fine. And he certainly had no intention of her escaping far from him now.
Philip held himself up above her on his elbows, their kisses more insistent now as her fingers clutched the front of his shirt, holding him there as they explored one another. Then Charlotte began to undress him, and Philip realized he was lost. He was lost in her kisses, in her touch, in everything that was Charlotte, and he didn’t think he was ever going to find his way out again.
Which was completely fine, for he had no wish to.
Philip had been a flirt his entire life. He knew that. His mother had warned him time and again that he was going to break a few hearts, and he always did his utmost to ensure that women were aware there was nowhere further for them to go than a bit of fun. It was, he realized now, why he had kept himself away from Charlotte for all of this time – because he was well aware that, with her, it would always be far more than “a bit of fun.” For their relationship had always been true, and sound, and founded in the strongest of friendships. They had both known that if they went forward, there would be no going back.
Just as, if he did make love to her, it would be forever. They were going to be married and this would solidify the need for them to do so.
But, he realized as she finally left his mouth only to nip at his chin, that was fine with him. There would never be another who would so affect him, who would take him beyond the flirtation he always enjoyed to something more. Something real.
He lifted her nightshirt in order to better discover her, but she wasn’t pleased with that – she ensured that he was as bare as she. The nub of Charlotte’s small candle flickered beside them, giving him just enough light for him to feast his eyes over her body.
“My God, you are beautiful,” he said, hearing the reverence in his voice and hoping that she would realize just how much he meant the words.
For she was. She was the most stunning sight he had ever seen, laid out in front of him, ready for him to devour.
And so he did.
He began where he had left off – at her mouth – before he continued on, exploring every inch of her with his hands, his lips, his tongue. She squirmed beneath him, her hands running down his chest, taking away his breath and with it every sense of reason.
“Philip,” she finally whispered, her voice insistent as he readied her for him, stroking her where she was most responsive, “please.”
Her whisper was jagged, rife with longing that he couldn’t deny, for his own not only rivaled it but likely exceeded it. He had never, in all his life, wanted anything more than he did Charlotte at this moment, and it seemed she felt the same.
He positioned himself at her entrance, kissing her before slowly easing into her, hoping that he was providing her as much, if not more, pleasure as pain. She seemed to easily accept him as she clawed his back, drawing him in ever deeper. She began to move before he did and they soon settled into a rhythm that was as easy as their relationship had always been.
And when they both found their fulfilment, it was as though the final piece of his life fell into place. She was his. He was home. This was where he was meant to be.
* * *
Charlotte sighed dreamily as she went to each bedroom, emptying out the chamber pots. She was well aware that it was the worst job in the house, but she didn’t overly care that morning. Nothing could break her spirits – nothing at all. Not after last night, which had been positively glorious. She could never have imagined it could be like that, and she wondered if it would have been, had she been with anyone but Philip.
Likely not.
He was her soul mate, through and through.
“What has you so giddy this morning?” Ellen had asked when Charlotte had nearly leaped out of bed. There was no malice in the maid’s voice; instead, her expression was one of curiosity, for Charlotte usually despaired of rising at the early hour required of them.
“It’s a beautiful day, Ellen!” she said, attempting to rein in her glee.
“I see,” Ellen said, though she eyed Charlotte suspiciously, for Charlotte had not taken any time to peer out of the small attic window. She winced once she did, for there was rain dripping from the roof above them. Ah, well. Ellen was too kind to call her on it.
Charlotte’s good mood held as she finished her morning chores much more quickly than usual, for she was eager to see Philip again. Eager and, she admitted to herself, nervous. She wished she could have stayed with him through the night, to have awoken with him in the morning. She had remained in his bed as long as she dared, held close against his chest. Snuggled in against him, she didn’t think there had ever been a better pillow than his biceps under her head, her nose in the crook of his neck as his chin came atop her head. They fit perfectly together, in every way, and she could hardly wait until the day they could sleep soundly in one another’s arms.
But, alas, today was not that day. No, Charlotte had finally roused herself from sleep to creep out, back through the stairwells of Hartland Abby, this time having only the moon’s glow through the windows to guide her, as her candle had been reduced to nothing. Philip had insisted she take his candle in its stead, but she had blown it out immediately upon entering the hall, so fearful she was that she might be caught.
She was already at risk of losing her position and she had no wish for there to be any further trouble caused.
Her current situation should have been worrying her far more, but somehow, she just knew that it would work out, with both her and Philip looking after it.
“Hello.”
“Oh!” Charlotte said, startled at the voice behind her, and she whirled around to find Stuart, towering over her. “Stuart. I didn’t see you there.”
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Stuart said, bending down to pick up Charlotte’s bucket. “Here. Let me take that for you.”
“Oh, no, you really don’t—”
“I insist.”
Charlotte was helpless but to follow in behind him as they made their way downstairs for breakfast.
“I am so sorry to hear of your troubles,” he said, and Charlotte looked up at him, wondering where this sudden concern was coming from.
“Thank you,” she said with some discomfort, for Stuart was the very man Philip suspected of foul play, although she had her doubts. She would place the blame on Lily.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, I—I don’t think so,” Charlotte answered. “I suppose if you know of anyone else who might be to blame, if you would come forward with that information, I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Of course I would,” he said with a firm nod. “But, unfortunately, I have no knowledge, especially being rather new here and all.”
“Of course,” Charlotte said, as she realized they were taking a rather roundabout path, which led them through the hall. They really should have taken the staircase all the way down and then walked through the servants’ area rather than the floor that housed the family’s quarters. “Stuart, why are we—”
But then her gaze was captured by a pair in the corner. She would hardly have noticed them, but it seemed that she was now instantly aware of Philip, wherever he was. He was leaning back against the sideboard, a smile on his face while a woman was laughing, bent over his arm in front of him.
Lily.
A hot, simmering ball of anger began to form in
the pit of Charlotte’s stomach, threatening to spread upward and out, but she managed to close her eyes and take a breath. This was nothing. A conversation. She would offer Philip the opportunity to explain it. But then Lily’s hand found his arm once again, and it was all Charlotte could do not to take the slop bucket out of Stuart’s hands and toss it over Lily’s head.
Then Philip’s eyes met hers from across the room. They flicked over to Stuart before returning to Charlotte, and then his lips took on a knowing smile, a small one, just for her. He held her eyes and left Lily, who stared after him with hands on her hips and a displeased expression on her face.
“Good morning,” he said once he finally stopped in front of her, reaching out to tuck a curl up into her cap.
“Good morning,” she said, unable to prevent the smile from spreading across her own lips.
“Ah… good morning?” Stuart ventured from beside them, but they both ignored him for a moment until Charlotte finally tilted her head toward him and Philip responded in kind.
Charlotte was so wrapped up in Philip that she nearly missed the glance that passed between Lily and Stuart. It could have been one regarding the obvious connection between the two of them, but somehow, Charlotte read more into it.
If only she could figure out why.
Chapter 9
Philip hardly saw Charlotte over the next couple of days, for she was entirely too busy preparing the guest chambers for the visitors who were to arrive shortly. It was simply a weekend house party, but many of the guests would be staying at Hartland Abby. He helped where he could, but his duties were still mainly related to assisting Lord William.
“Good evening, my lord,” he said as he greeted his old friend to help him prepare for supper.
“Philip,” Lord William returned, holding out an arm for Philip to remove his riding jacket. He stood in the mirror, with Philip behind him.
“I heard a rumor today.”
“Oh?” Philip said, already guessing just what it was.
“Yes,” Lord William said, turning with a smile on his lips. “I hear that congratulations are in order. It seems I was right about you and Charlotte.”
Philip smiled self-consciously. “Yes, my lord,” he said with a nod. “You were aware of it before I was myself.”
“Well, there are few that know the two of you better,” Lord William said, the volume of his voice lowering as he seemed to be remembering the past of their shared childhood.
“Yes,” Philip said, filling the silence which had become slightly tense. “It seems I was rather blind to just what – or, rather, who – was right in front of me.”
“It happens,” Lord William returned, and then sobered somewhat. “I also heard that Charlotte has been accused of stealing.”
“It’s not true,” Philip said immediately, realizing at Lord William’s momentary dark look that his words had come out harsher than he’d intended. “My apologies, my lord. It’s just—”
“I understand,” Lord William said, holding up a hand. “I agree with you. I told my father exactly that, and I know that he feels the same.”
He turned around, no longer looking at Philip in the mirror, but actually face to face. Philip had to blink, for it had been so long since the two of them actually had a conversation like this.
“If you and Charlotte need any help in this, Philip,” he said with a concerned expression, “please know that you can ask.”
Philip nodded, unable to speak for a moment as a strange lump had formed in his throat at Lord William’s words. It was a reminder that, despite the gulf that existed between them now as lord and valet, they would always have that shared beginning between them; one they couldn’t deny.
“Thank you,” he finally managed, before turning to the clothing laid out for Lord William. “Are you ready, my lord?”
Lord William nodded. “I am.”
* * *
Philip’s mind was full of thoughts regarding Charlotte, Lord William, and how to extricate his now-betrothed from her current situation as he reached the bottom of the staircase and turned into the kitchen to seek out his mother. It seemed that she was beginning to cautiously believe in Philip and Charlotte’s relationship, and now there was a little twinkle in her eye every time she looked at the two of them. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he planned to see if there was any leftover dessert from earlier.
A figured stepped into his path before he could finish his quest, and he gave a start.
“Philip,” Lily greeted him pleasantly. “Are you busy?”
“I—” he was, but he figured it would be rude to answer in the affirmative, “not at the moment,” he said instead, hoping whatever she needed he could get done quickly.
“Oh, lovely,” she said, her red lips widening into a smile. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“Yes?”
“I must empty a bathtub upstairs, and I’m afraid I’ve strained my elbow. Could you help?”
Philip frowned. “Is that not a job for one of the maids?”
“Oh, yes, usually, but none are anywhere to be found, and I must start dressing the duchess for supper.”
It all sounded rather fabricated, but Philip was unsure how to answer in the negative without sounding overly rude at the least, and downright difficult at the worst.
“Very well,” he said, gesturing for Lily to precede him back up the staircase. “Away we go.”
* * *
Charlotte was bone tired after working all day preparing the guest chambers, on top of her usual duties. Oh, she wished she could be like Philip and have a position that was far more comfortable. She sighed. She might have, had Lily Draper not joined their household. She shook her head. She must stop. Philip was right. It was no more Lily Draper’s fault than her own.
If she was Lily, she would have taken this job too.
Finally finished, she was making her way toward the kitchens for a good meal before she was able to take to her bed for the night – and tonight, she didn’t think she was capable of doing anything but sleep – when Stuart intercepted her. She sighed. She didn’t have energy for this tonight. She looked up at him, standing tall in front of her.
“Can I help you, Stuart?” she asked, raising her eyebrows, and he nodded.
“Yes, actually, you can,” he said, a smile coming over his face so suddenly she knew it must be contrived. “Mrs. Miller asked me to summon you. She said there is an urgent matter requiring your help in the family apartments.”
“Right now?” Charlotte asked, somewhat skeptical.
“Yes!” He nodded emphatically. “A very delicate matter, I am told. You best go quickly.”
Worry running through her at what might have overcome one of the Devon family members, Charlotte nodded. She returned her rags and then hurried out, not seeing anyone as she did so. Many of the maids would be helping Philip’s mother with the supper preparations, she knew, while the footmen would all be waiting to serve.
She took the back stairs up to the family apartments, which were found on the first floor. She glanced over at the wing where Philip’s small room was located, remembering all that had occurred just a couple of nights ago. Had it really only been that long?
Charlotte found the family apartments nearly devoid of life, and she cursed her tiredness, for it had caused her not to think to ask Stuart just who or where her assistance was required. She had searched nearly every room, when she heard voices coming from within the duchess’ bedchamber. She hesitantly walked within, but came to a sudden stop when she saw Philip – with Lily. They were bent over something she couldn’t see, their heads close, Lily’s body pressed up against his side.
She wanted to cry out, to rage and implore him to step back from her, but she found herself mute. Instead, she did the only thing she could at that moment – she turned on her heel and ran.
* * *
Charlotte didn’t think she slept one wink that entire night, despite how incredibly tired she was.
She kne
w that some of the other servants were worried about her. Ellen had softly tapped her shoulder when she came to bed, but Charlotte had pretended she was still sleeping. She could practically feel their concern seeping off of them, but she had no desire to talk right now. She couldn’t. She didn’t even know what she would say.
She had been a fool. A fool in love who had thought that she and Philip had the type of relationship in which she could trust him. She had thought that, if he was ever honest to anyone in this world, it would be her.
She had been wrong.
Oh, she was aware that he likely did care for her, and that he had every intention of marrying her. It just seemed that he didn’t have any intentions of giving up all other women for her.
She must have slept for a time, for she was finally roused by someone shaking her shoulder. She blinked into the light, surprised when she saw Delilah’s face hovering above her.
“Delilah?” she murmured, forgetting for a moment that she should be calling her Mrs. Miller, her thoughts still jumbled. “Did I oversleep? What’s wrong?”
“You’re to come to the duke’s study,” she said, her brows furrowed. “Immediately.”
That woke Charlotte up.
“Why? Has something happened?”
“I’m not to say anything,” Delilah said with some worry.
“Please?” Charlotte implored, her heart racing as she swung her legs out of bed and began rushing to dress herself. She was shocked to find that daylight was already streaming through the lone window and she looked to Delilah, who sighed.
“I attempted to wake you this morning, but you were not moved. Ellen said you tossed and turned the entire night and after you went to bed so early last night, I thought perhaps you were ill. But this can’t wait.”
A Touch of Temptation: House of Devon Book 2 Page 6
