Seduced at Sunset (Love at Pembroke Palace Book 6)

by Julianne MacLean

  She drank two cups of tea and devoured four biscuits, while her mother updated her about the latest happenings at their home in the country, for Rebecca and Chelsea had both written letters.

  Chelsea’s youngest daughter Mirabel had caught a frog in the pond and refused to let him go. She had designed a charming rock garden in her toy trunk where he could live. Eventually she had capitulated and set the poor creature free.

  Meanwhile, Devon and Rebecca’s eldest son—and heir to the dukedom—had been caught kissing a girl behind the stables.

  “He’s only twelve years old,” Charlotte said with feigned shock. “Lord help us all when he is old enough to take the curricle into the village on his own. Every young lady within view will swoon in the streets. Poor Devon. He will have his work cut out for him, keeping that boy on the straight and narrow.”

  Adelaide gave her a look. “He only has what’s coming to him, for he was always a charmer himself. I lost a lot of sleep when he was younger.”

  “Vincent was the worst, though,” Charlotte reminded her. “Thank goodness for Cassandra.”

  “And June,” Adelaide added, referring to the daughter they had conceived out of wedlock. The combination of fatherhood and Cassandra’s love had finally convinced Vincent that he was capable of a love that could last a lifetime.

  All was well now. All four of the Sinclair brothers were home, happily and respectfully wed. The scandals were forgotten—at least until a new generation of Sinclairs entered the marriage mart.

  “Should we take another walk in the park today?” Adelaide suggested. “It was lovely yesterday. How wonderful it was to see William. One should not let so much time pass between visits with old friends.”

  Old friends… But it was so much more than that, surely—for they had loved each other once and were cruelly torn apart. Not unlike Charlotte and Graham, and Mr. Torrington and his wife. At least there was a chance for Adelaide and Dr. Thomas to reverse the heartbreaks of the past. They shouldn’t squander such an opportunity. Dr. Thomas had been resistant the other day, but after seeing her parents together in the park, Charlotte was certain they were destined for each other. He must see it, too, for he had come, hadn’t he?

  She raised her teacup to her lips and wondered about this other woman he had been seeing. How close were they? How intimate had they become? She set her cup back down in the saucer with a noisy clink, for she couldn’t bear to think of it.

  “Well?” Adelaide said. “Shall we return to the park?

  Charlotte placed her cup and saucer on the table and pushed it away. “I would love to, Mother, but before we do, I feel there is something I must tell you. Something about Dr. Thomas.”

  “What is it?” Adelaide asked with a small frown.

  Charlotte took a deep breath to get the words out. “He told me the other day that…” She paused. “That he has been courting someone.”

  Adelaide sat back. Her expression was unreadable. “I see. Is it serious?”

  “I am not certain.”

  An excruciating moment of silence ensued. Adelaide sat forward again to pour herself another cup of tea. “If he has found someone to care for, then I am very happy for him.”

  Charlotte struggled to understand what her mother was truly feeling. Was she heartbroken and trying to hide it? Or was she genuinely happy for Dr. Thomas?

  “Do you still want to go walking in the park today?” Charlotte asked.

  “Of course,” Adelaide cheerfully replied. “Why wouldn’t I? The weather is perfect for it.” She took a sip of her tea and reached for the newspaper.

  “Then I will summon the carriage.” Not yet ready to admit defeat—for Charlotte simply could not accept that Dr. Thomas loved any other woman but Adelaide—she stood up and left the room.

  After spending his morning on a complex medical case at the hospital, William sat in the window of his private residence in Mayfair, toying with the idea of returning to Hyde Park for a brief walk in the sunshine that afternoon. The exercise would do him good of course, but something aroused his hesitation.

  Seeing Adelaide yesterday had been both thrilling and disconcerting, for his heart had come alive at the sight of her under that pretty lace-trimmed parasol. She was past sixty now, but still looked as fresh and youthful as she had when they were young and living in Yorkshire—before he had ventured out into the world to make a man of himself, to earn his own living, and to discover a passion for the field of medicine.

  Turning away from the window, he let his gaze fall to his desk—the bottom drawer, in particular, where he kept the letters she had written to him years ago, just before her marriage to the duke, and shortly afterward, when she had written to explain her decision to become the Duchess of Pembroke after promising that she would not go through with it.

  William had left England upon reading those agonizing words and had vowed never to forgive her. His bitterness had taken on a life of its own, and he had lost many friends. If not for the distraction of his work, he might have ended up a wretched drunkard—or dead from some foolish taproom brawl. Instead, he had traveled to Amsterdam to immerse himself in his training. By the time he returned to England, the fires of his anger had cooled.

  Then he had spotted Adelaide, the young Duchess of Pembroke, in a London ballroom, and discovered it was she who had become wretched.

  He would never forget that night and how his heart had nearly stopped beating at the sight of her. She wore a gown of pale blue silk, and was as dazzling as the sun, just as she had been in the park yesterday. But all was not well, for she had fallen into the very depths of despair. She was miserable and brokenhearted and had had far too much to drink.

  The duke was an unfaithful husband. He was critical of her, and cruel. She had the bruises to prove it.

  William had dragged her out of that ballroom onto a moonlit terrace, then down the steps and across a wide lawn to a boat at the river’s edge. She was distraught and unable to stop weeping from the sight of him. He had picked up the oars and stolen her away…

  For a week, she had stayed with him in his family’s hunting lodge in Cambridgeshire. There, William did nothing but love her. He managed to patch up her emotional wounds and provide her with a respite from her life at Pembroke Palace. They both knew she would have to return eventually, however, for she had three young sons she loved devotedly, and she could not possibly leave them.

  And so, at the end of the week, she went home to the duke, and though it broke his heart yet again, William let her go. The duke was relieved to see her. He was so grateful, in fact, that he never raised a hand to her again. Nine months later, she bore twins—Charlotte and Garrett—who showed no resemblance whatsoever to the duke. They were raised at the palace, and it was years before William knew the truth.

  Now that the duke was gone, Charlotte and Garrett knew the whole story about their parentage.

  Charlotte… Dear, sweet Charlotte, who desperately wanted happy endings for those she loved. If only she could find her own.

  And what about Adelaide? What about her happiness?

  Seeing her in the park yesterday had aroused that old familiar ache in William’s heart, an ache he thought he had mastered long ago. He laid a hand on his chest and sank into a chair, thought of Dorothea who was so very devoted to him, and finally decided it would perhaps be best to avoid the park that afternoon, for there was simply too much water under the bridge where Adelaide was concerned.

  Chapter 8

  A steady rain fell hard over the city of London for the next four days, and there were no further opportunities for walks in the park. Charlotte was disappointed by Dr. Thomas’s failure to meet them the day after their initial encounter, for her mother had hinted to him on that day that they would be back at the same time the following afternoon.

  “Perhaps there was some emergency at the hospital,” Charlotte had said to her as the
y climbed back into their barouche, after spending two solid hours wandering up and down the paths.

  Adelaide made light of it, but Charlotte was vastly disappointed.

  A few hours before dinner, Charlotte had the copper tub brought to her bedchamber and slipped into a hot bath. While the maid lathered and washed her hair, she continued to wonder what Dr. Thomas was thinking and feeling. Perhaps he had decided, once and for all, that their time had come and gone, and he’d only needed to see Adelaide once to confirm it. Charlotte hoped that was not the case, and at the same time, she wondered what her mother truly wanted. Adelaide was not forthcoming about her feelings toward Doctor Thomas. She had never—not once—admitted to still being in love with him. ‘We are just friends, nothing more,’ she insisted whenever Charlotte broached the subject.

  And then, there were Charlotte’s own dilemmas about love…

  No, she reminded herself, it was not love. It was lust that had her body reeling and her mind in an uproar as she lay in the hot bath, breathing in the exotic fragrance of the orange-scented bath oils. How could she help but feel aroused by the sensation of the water lapping over her bare breasts, while the fire crackled noisily in the hearth?

  What was Mr. Torrington doing at that very moment? Charlotte wondered as she closed her eyes and lay her head back on the rounded rim of the tub. Was he thinking about her at all and yearning for another opportunity to be alone with her?

  Her body had not been the same since their incredible night of passion, and it took great strength of will for her to resist the urge to dash over to his house and plead with him to bed her immediately. If only it could be that simple, but she did not wish to become pathetic. She was a mature, intelligent, and rational woman who had lived without a man her entire life. She did not need him, and she did not wish to degrade herself by chasing after him like a love-struck puppy.

  But was he thinking of her now as she was thinking of him?

  Charlotte asked herself that question and imagined that he was as she continued her bath.

  “Oh. A letter arrived for you while you were in the bath,” Adelaide said absentmindedly when Charlotte entered the drawing room shortly before dinner. “I told the footman to leave it with me.” She held it out.

  “Who is it from?” Charlotte asked as she reached out to take it.

  “It doesn’t say.”

  Charlotte turned from her mother and crossed to the fireplace to break the wax seal. She unfolded the letter and read the words:

  Tonight. Same place.

  —D

  A hot thrill exploded in the pit of her belly, and she quickly folded the letter and tossed it into the fire.

  “What was that about?” Adelaide asked.

  “Just a note from my editor,” she replied. “Evidently, they sent another shipment of my books to France.”

  It was a bald-faced lie, but she was a rather gifted weaver of fiction, hence her literary success.

  “That’s good news,” Adelaide said.

  The butler entered the room to announce that dinner was served. As Charlotte rose from her seat to follow her mother into the dining room, she glanced back at the fire, just to make sure no incriminating evidence remained.

  When Charlotte arrived at the back entrance of the hotel shortly after midnight, Drake was there waiting for her. He must have been in the room for some time, for he wore no jacket, only a loose white shirt beneath a dark waistcoat. The shirt was already open at the collar. He had removed his neck cloth as well.

  Without speaking a word, he pressed his forefinger to his lips to say “Shh,” took her by the hand and slowly led her up the narrow staircase toward the same room they had occupied previously.

  All her senses came alive at the heat of his touch, and the sight of him in the smoky gaslight filled her with yearning. His broad shoulders and narrow hips were perfectly sculpted, and she couldn’t help but admire his muscular form as she followed him down the wide corridor. All she wanted to do was tear his clothes from his body and run her hands over every inch of him. The past four days had been pure agony, not knowing if she would ever see him again, and now her need for him was insatiable.

  When they entered the room, he shut the door behind him and locked it. Slowly, lazily, he approached her, while she backed up toward the bed.

  He was unshaven, which only added to his rugged appeal and intensified the animal attraction that sizzled Charlotte’s blood. She had never felt such a powerful pull toward any man, and was unnerved by it, but not enough to change her mind about this. She fully intended to enjoy every moment, for as long as it lasted.

  They made love twice, with only a short interval for recovery in between, then fell asleep exhausted while the rain tapped softly against the windowpanes.

  When Charlotte woke a few hours later, the bed was empty beside her. She sat up groggily and looked around.

  Drake was seated in a chair in the corner of the room, watching her. He had pulled on his trousers but was naked from the waist up. The light from the lamp beside him illuminated his bronzed shoulders and the muscular contours of his chest and arms.

  “Good morning,” he said in that growling voice that never failed to captivate her.

  “What time is it?” She squinted at the darkness outside the window.

  “It’s almost five, but don’t get up yet.” He rose from his chair and returned to the bed. Slipping off his trousers, he slid beneath the covers and gathered Charlotte into his arms. She wiggled close and twirled her leg around his.

  “There should be a law,” he said, “against beauty like yours.”

  She gloried at the flattery and pressed a firm kiss to his shoulder. “I feel the same way. Sometimes it hurts just to look at you. I feel like my heart is going to burst. The way I want you…it feels almost criminal.”

  He brushed his lips across her forehead and stroked her long hair away from her face.

  Charlotte closed her eyes and cherished the splendid, beautiful intimacy. Until recently, she had been perfectly content as an unmarried woman. She had always enjoyed her independence and had never felt lonely or deprived of male attention. But after the pleasures of these nights, she realized what she had been missing, and wasn’t entirely sure she could face the possibility of never feeling this way again.

  She leaned up on one elbow. “May I ask you a question?”

  He nodded.

  “What exactly is happening here? I only ask because I need to know if we will do this again. If not…if it will just be these two nights… If that is all you want, I will not ask for more. But I must confess—I nearly went mad over the past four days, wanting you as I did, not knowing if I would ever see you again.”

  His expression was inscrutable as he lay on his back, looking up at her. “Why didn’t you pay a call? Or send me a note?”

  “I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

  “You waited for me to make the next move.”

  “Yes.”

  He laid his hand on her cheek and stroked softly with his thumb. “Come closer,” he whispered. “Lie down.”

  She laid her cheek on his shoulder while he ran the pad of his finger up and down her arm. “You were in my thoughts as well,” he said. “Every day, especially at night.”

  Her heart turned over in her chest. “Then why did you wait so long to send a note?”

  He took his time answering. “I was trying to fight my desires. I wasn’t comfortable with how overwhelming they were.”

  “That, sir, I understand completely, for I, too, was fighting my feelings. I don’t wish to become overpowered by them.”

  For a moment, they lay together in silence until Charlotte was forced to ask her question again. “What should I expect from this? Are we to be regular lovers? Or will we part ways and continue to do battle with our passions?”

  He rubbed the rough pad
of his finger over her shoulder, and she wanted to disappear forever into the magic of those hands.

  “I see no reason to torture ourselves,” he replied. “We may as well become regular lovers. Are you in agreement?”

  “Most definitely,” she replied, leaning up on her elbow again.

  She was feeling far too exuberant at the thought of more nights like this, and perhaps other sorts of activities as well. She longed to be near him, to be able to admire him, even from a distance, and to flirt with him…touch him.

  “I must have your word, however,” he said, “about something.”

  “Anything.”

  “You will not tell anyone about us, and you will not expect me to accompany you to the theater or other public places. I am here for the summer only, Charlotte, and not for the Season. I will not welcome a slew of invitations. I do not want my presence here to become known, nor do I wish to become a source of gossip.”

  “Because you were notorious once,” she said, understanding him completely, “and you wish to lead a private life. As do I. So I will ask the same of you. Please do not reveal my secret to anyone. I am referring to what you know of Victor Edwards, of course.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Agreed.”

  She smiled and hugged him close.

  “I am not sure how long I can continue to sneak out in the middle of the night, however, without getting caught,” she said. “Are there any other places, other times, we can meet?”

  “How about a long, leisurely drive in my coach?” he said. “Or another boat ride on the Thames?”

  “Or a picnic in the woods,” she suggested, “if this infernal rain ever stops.”