Seduced at Sunset (Love at Pembroke Palace Book 6)

by Julianne MacLean

  Perhaps it was better this way, she told herself. He would think her a romantic fool who had bitten off more than she could chew, and he would refrain from sending any more scandalous invitations. Clearly, she was not cut out for reckless affairs. She gave too much thought to it, and it was quite obvious that she was becoming infatuated. More than infatuated. She couldn’t get the blasted man out of her mind. A less rational woman might confuse such feelings with love and begin to dream of a happily ever after.

  But she was not one of those women. She knew the difference between reality and fantasy. Love and lust.

  Charlotte tipped her head back against the chair and stared up at the ceiling for a long while. She imagined Mr. Torrington riding up to the house, calling out to her from the street, and getting down on his knees when she came to the window—to beg her to continue their affair.

  Charlotte lifted her head. Good gracious. She was one of those women. This proved it, and so did the matchmaking, and her dreams of dancing with Mr. Torrington at a glittering ball. Heaven help her, she did want something more than lust and secret sexual encounters. She was completely besotted, and if she weren’t careful, he would become the source of another romantic tragedy in her life. This time of her own making. For she feared she was falling fast toward love. She yearned for permanence and confidence in his regard, for him to want to be with her forever.

  Alas. That wish was not to be.

  Charlotte sighed and finished her brandy, thankful at least for this opportunity for private and personal reflection, so that she would not continue to behave like such a hopeless romantic.

  Five days passed, during which time Charlotte and Adelaide, respectively, heard nothing from Mr. Torrington or Dr. Thomas. Charlotte was soon convinced that she had spoiled everything and frightened Mr. Torrington off when she spouted her romantic ideals in the stable. She could hardly blame him but wished overwhelmingly that she could go back to that moment and agree with him. Admit that she had meddled in her mother’s private affairs and that life was not a fairy tale. Could never be.

  It was quite possible that the path of one’s life could shift and take on a new direction. Perhaps there was someone else in her mother’s future, and her own as well. Perhaps Mr. Torrington had merely been a necessary experience to teach her that lesson and remind her she was not past her prime. She was still a passionate and attractive woman with a full heart, who could love and be loved. Perhaps she had needed to discover that she deserved more than a temporary physical affair. She was a soulful person and wanted something deeper than that.

  Why was it that she was always looking for the reasons why life unfolded the way it did? Could she not simply accept things the way they were, and not question the why?

  It was on the fifth night, after she and Adelaide returned home from the theater, that Charlotte found a letter waiting for her on her pillow. Wondering who had placed it there, she picked it up and broke the seal.

  Lady Charlotte,

  Please do me the great honor of joining me on the river at dawn tomorrow. I wish to apologize for my lack of understanding the other day, and my insensitivity to your wishes. I will wait outside your door at 6:00. If you do not wish to see me, I will move on at 6:15 and refrain from ever contacting you again. Though I confess, it will pain me greatly to keep that promise.

  Sincerely,

  —D

  Charlotte closed her eyes and pressed the letter to her breast, while joy flooded her heart. She had never been so happy to read any letter in her life.

  How odd, that when she had finally convinced herself that her relationship with Mr. Torrington was completely sordid, as well as over, this letter arrived and spoke of something else. Was this only a ruse to seduce her into more lovemaking? Or had his heart become involved too?

  She longed desperately to know the answer and could hardly wait until the morning.

  Chapter 11

  He had tried. Truly he had. Drake had considered the risks of a summer affair with Lady Charlotte—the beautiful, passionate, romantic daughter of a duke—and for five days straight, he had fought against the urge to contact her. In the end, he could bear it no longer. The thought of not spending the full summer with her drove him mad with frustration. He decided it would be best to let this affair run its course. Sometimes what was forbidden became coveted, and what he really hoped for was an enjoyable affair that would end amiably for both of them. They would part as friends, feeling satisfied with the time they had spent together, and they would remember each other fondly.

  He was not yet sure if that was possible, for he sensed, with the high emotion, that this could turn out to be the very worst sort of passionate and turbulent relationship—the kind that ended in tears and hatred. It was possible that Charlotte could show her true colors very soon and become the sort of woman he avoided—possessive, demanding, and jealous. But none of that mattered now, for he was not yet ready to give her up.

  Though he had tried.

  It was nearly 6:15 am when the front door of Pembroke House opened, and she walked down the steps.

  His relief was immense, and his pulse raced at the sight of her in that formfitting, pine-green walking dress and attractive straw bonnet.

  He slid across the seat and opened the door for her. She climbed inside and sat beside him, her body turned at a slight angle toward him while she removed her gloves.

  “I was surprised to receive your invitation,” she said, laying her gloves on her lap. “I thought perhaps we were through. After the way I behaved the other day…”

  “The way you behaved?” He shook his head to object. “You did nothing wrong. It was I who was unreasonable. I dismissed your feelings and passed judgement when I knew few details about the situation. I cannot blame you for walking out on me—and I am sorry.”

  Her cheeks flushed with color and her eyes glistened with happiness. “Thank you, but no apology is necessary. I am just so glad you invited me to join you this morning. I missed you.”

  The words were tender and sentimental, and he was both touched and unnerved by them. “I missed you, too.”

  Had he really just said that?

  The next thing he knew, he was leaning close and pressing his mouth to hers, holding her tight as the coach rumbled over the city cobblestones and his body drummed with desire.

  “I don’t want to fight with you,” she said breathlessly, sitting back. “You are here for such a short time. Part of me wants to make the most of it and be happy and smiling all the time, but another part of me knows that would be superficial, and I don’t want that either.”

  “Nor do I.” What the blazes had he just said?

  “I understand,” she continued, “if you don’t want to venture out into Society, and I can hardly blame you. All the foolish gossip drives me mad sometimes, so I will not press you to escort me anywhere. I will be happy to proceed as we initially intended, and to see each other only in private.”

  “I am happy to hear it, Charlotte.”

  He clasped her hand in his, and neither of them said anything more for the duration of the drive.

  It was humid and warm that morning, so Charlotte decided to leave her bonnet and gloves in the coach.

  While Drake stepped into the boat and untied the ropes on the jetty, she looked back at the land they had just driven across. “Whose property is this?” she asked.

  “It belongs to an old sparring partner,” Drake replied. “He lets me keep my boat here.”

  “That is kind of him. Have you seen him much since you arrived?”

  “A few times.” He reached out a hand to her. “Come now.”

  With his assistance, she stepped into the boat, which rocked back and forth, bobbing wildly against the jetty until she sat down.

  Drake took his position, his back to the bow, and picked up the oars. Soon they were cutting fast through the calm water wi
th Drake’s powerful thrusts of the oars. Charlotte felt wonderfully alive.

  She knew enough not to try and make conversation with him while he worked so strenuously against the current, so she distracted herself by sitting back against the transom and looking up at the morning sky.

  Fifteen minutes later, Drake lifted the oars out of the water and let out a deep exhale. “That was good,” he said.

  “Did you come every day this week, even when it was raining?”

  “Yes,” he replied, breathing heavily. “I like rowing in the rain. It keeps me cool.”

  They were in a wide, lazy part of the river and floated idly for a few minutes, drifting downstream slowly while ducks quacked close to the shore.

  “This feels like home to me,” she said. “The peacefulness reminds me of Pembroke. I enjoy the city, but I prefer the country. Tell me about your life in America, Drake. Do you live in the country or the city?”

  “I have two homes,” he said. “One is in the city of Boston, and the other is on a stretch of land called Cape Cod. It’s a picturesque seaside community. I enjoy the salty air and the roar of the surf.”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  “Let me know if you ever decide to make a transatlantic crossing,” he said. “I would enjoy having you as my guest.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I will remember that. Thank you.”

  She watched him dip one oar into the water to use as a rudder, while he stroked with the other to turn them around.

  “I want to tell you something,” she said, feeling rather reckless suddenly with the urge to open up. “There is a reason why I am so passionate about my mother’s romantic life. I am not just bored and seeking amusement. I want her to be happy, of course, but I want these two particular people to be together because…”

  She hesitated, for this was an intimate family secret. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to reveal it, or why she felt Drake should know. Would he even care? She wasn’t certain, but everything in her heart and soul screamed at her to reveal this to him.

  “I want them to be together because they are my true parents.”

  Drake’s eyes lifted, and he raised the oars out of the water so that they floated to a stop again. “I beg your pardon?”

  “The gentleman I am attempting to pair up with my mother is my real father. So obviously, he was more than her first love. He was also her lover for a brief time while she was married…when things were unbearable for her at the palace.”

  “How exactly were they unbearable?”

  Charlotte explained how the duke was unfaithful, abusive, and cruel in the early years of their marriage, probably because he had realized his wife’s heart secretly belonged to another. She also explained how her mother had almost run off and abandoned her role as Duchess of Pembroke.

  “She changed her mind at the last minute,” Charlotte told him, “for she knew the duke would never let her see her sons again if she left him.”

  “Your brothers.”

  “Yes. Devon, Vincent and Blake. Garrett is my twin and we are both illegitimate. But no one knows it, so I must ask you not to betray my confidence.”

  He laid a hand over his heart. “You have my word of honor.”

  “Thank you. And I hope that helps you to understand why I was upset over what happened at the ball. It is more complicated than I initially let on.”

  “I see.” He lowered the oars back into the water, leaned forward, and gave a firm stroke to pick up some speed. “Was the duke a good father to you?”

  She shrugged. “He was always kind to me, but I suspect that was because I was the only girl. He was harder on Garrett, because he knew we weren’t his, and there was the issue of the succession. If anything had happened to the three older sons, Garrett could have inherited the title. But our father preferred to keep my mother’s infidelity a secret, because he felt it reflected poorly on him as a husband.”

  “I am sorry to hear all of that.”

  “It wasn’t so bad in the end. After mother came home to him, he realized how he had driven her away, and he turned over a new leaf. He spent less time in London, more time in the country with her. I believe they grew to love each other. But that is all in the past now. He passed away two years ago.”

  “My condolences.”

  Charlotte leaned over the side to drag a finger through the water as they skimmed along its clear surface.

  “Since we are sharing secrets,” Drake said, “I have one, too.”

  She pulled her hand from the water, shook off the droplets, and sat forward. “What is it?”

  He glanced over his shoulder as he rowed smoothly back toward the jetty. “The reason I left England twelve years ago was to escape something I did.”

  She was forced to wait an unbearable number of seconds before he continued.

  Then at last he told her. “I punched a man so hard that I killed him instantly. And it didn’t happen in the ring.”

  Chapter 12

  Charlotte gripped the sides of the boat and fought to keep the evidence of her shock to a minimum. Mr. Torrington—her perfect fantasy lover—had killed a man?

  Swallowing uneasily, she said, “There was a mystery surrounding your disappearance when you left. Was it because of this? Did anyone know what happened?”

  “Very few people,” he explained. “One close friend whom I trusted with my life—the man who owns this property. He was my trainer. My mother knew as well, and Mrs. March, the housekeeper.”

  “Why did you leave?” Charlotte asked. “Was there a warrant out for your arrest?”

  Was it murder? She was curious but couldn’t bring herself to ask such a question.

  “They questioned me at the time,” he explained, “and it was deemed an accidental death. No charges were laid. I believe my connections as nephew to Earl Lidstone played a part in that, though I certainly didn’t try to use them. My mother did, however, which buried the scandal, but also deepened the rift between us, because I didn’t want her help. I specifically asked her to stay out of it.”

  “You felt you should have paid a price for what you did?” Charlotte asked, “even though it was deemed accidental?”

  “The definition of accidental can be murky sometimes.”

  Charlotte tilted her head to the side. She studied Mr. Torrington’s expression in the early morning light and wanted very much to understand him better. “What exactly did happen?”

  He continued to row steadily to recover their position, while every muscle strained with the long strokes. “I was drunk one night after a prize fight and had pockets full of coin to spend. I was mixing with a seedy bunch back then and making my way through Whitechapel when I heard a man and a woman shouting at each other. I looked up at a veranda on a second floor where the man was shoving the woman around. She had a baby in her arms. I climbed up on a barrel and somehow found myself on the landing. There were two smaller children inside the flat, hiding under a table, trembling and looking terrified. The woman had obviously taken a few beatings already. Other than that, I don’t remember much. The details are foggy, but I do recall how I loathed that man for not cherishing what he had—a wife and children—while I had lost mine.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  Mr. Torrington nodded and continued. “He may have swung a punch at me. I don’t remember, so I cannot say whether it was self-defence or not. All I know is that I hit him and killed him, right there in front of his children. Then his wife nearly scratched my eyes out. ‘He may have been a brute,’ she said to me, ‘but he brought home a good wage from the dockyards.’ I gave her all the money I had in my pockets that night, then gave her more afterwards when no charges were laid. I still send her money to this day, all the way from America. And I will continue to do so.”

  “But clearly it was accidental,” Charlotte said. “You were only trying to help.”

&nb
sp; He shrugged. “Perhaps. All I know is that when I heard the baby cry in the mother’s arms, all I could think of was Jennie and how it wasn’t fair. It was pure rage I felt that night. But it forced me, from that day on, to learn to take my rage out on a bag of sand, instead of other men.”

  “Except for the day you rescued my purse from that thief.”

  “He’s lucky to be alive,” Drake said. “It was a good reminder.”

  “Of what?”

  “That I have no control when my blood boils.”

  Charlotte squinted as she gazed across the water. “I am sorry that happened,” she said with compassion, “but I don’t see why it should keep you from mixing in Society. It was a long time ago and from the sound of it, it was an accident. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Drake, and as you said, the scandal was buried. No one knows about it.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said, “but I have no interest in stuffy drawing rooms and the idle lifestyles of the English aristocracy. I have been living in America too long. This is no longer my world, and I have no interest in being dragged back into it.”

  “Then you must do what you feel is right,” she said. “Follow your heart.”

  His eyes narrowed with resolve as he began to row toward the shore. “Follow my heart? That sounds far too romantic for an ex-prize fighter like me.”

  “I don’t think so,” she replied, watching the riverbank grow nearer. “Where are you taking us? The jetty is still half a mile away.”

  “I don’t want to go back yet,” he said, looking her over with heated appreciation. “For the moment, I want to heed your advice, and follow my heart.”