Triumphant, she sat back on the padded leather seat to catch her breath. Across from her, Nathaniel frowned.
She smiled serenely at him. To her amusement, his scowl deepened.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Helping you, of course. Unless you would rather hang for murder?” She raised a mocking brow. Even he wasn’t so lack-witted that he imagined he could investigate without her assistance.
He leaned forward, face expressionless. His broad shoulders filled the center of the carriage. Suddenly, there seemed to be very little room inside the confined space.
Charlotte tried not to display any cowardly weakness, but she couldn’t help leaning back a little further into her corner. Her breathing stopped while her gaze flitted from his glinting eyes to his hands, resting with deliberate casualness on his thighs. His silence and air of barely leashed anger made words superfluous.
She tried to smile. She failed.
“You will be compromised,” he remarked with dangerous softness. “And this time, I don’t want to hear any nonsense about it being impossible.”
“No,” she squeaked before clearing her throat. “No.”
She gestured toward the maid. “I have brought a maid with me. Our actions are most proper. And you are, after all, my guardian’s nephew.”
He laughed, although not with amusement. “And you believe that is sufficient?”
“Well, yes.”
“I am an alleged murderer. What if I, or the real murderer, should attack you?”
“You are not a murderer. I feel quite safe.” Charlotte glanced at the maid. The girl sat cowering in the corner, her wide eyes staring at Nathaniel as if he held a razor to her throat. “If anything should happen to me—if anyone should attack me while we are assisting you, my maid would beat them off.”
When Nathaniel cast his mocking gaze over the maid, Charlotte eyed her and winced. The girl had a peculiarly rabbit-like appearance, complete with slightly protruding front teeth and a quivering pink nose. She didn’t look capable of fending off a sparrow with a broken wing.
“Well, perhaps not beat him off, but at least scream,” Charlotte amended.
A bleating whimper escaped from the maid’s trembling mouth. Charlotte said, “Perhaps not scream, precisely. But she could run to find assistance….” Her voice trailed off when she noticed the maid experiencing difficulty breathing.
Alarmed, Charlotte shook her to get her inhaling again.
“She could run to find assistance?” Nathaniel asked in a quietly disbelieving voice.
“I could push her at you and while you—or the real murderer—throttled her, I could scream and go for assistance,” Charlotte replied more firmly.
The maid was obviously incapable of rendering any help whatsoever, but that didn’t mean Charlotte was entirely without resources.
Except now she felt trapped in the confined quarters of the duke’s carriage with him. And she had never before realized quite how large and muscular he was. His shoulders filled his side of the carriage, making her feel almost delicate in comparison although this was clearly ridiculous for a woman of her height.
It is silly to be nervous.
However, looking at him, she realized how very, very blue his eyes were when he was exceedingly angry. And yet, despite this, she longed to gaze into them and have him take her into his arms again. He had felt so warm the other night….
“Really?” he asked, breaking the silence. He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. His eyes locked on hers.
“Yes, really,” Charlotte replied, settling back and wrapping her shawl more firmly around her shoulders.
“However there is no point in being overly dramatic about it. None of that will be necessary. You are a gentleman and would not dream of comprising anyone.” She patted the maid’s forearm. “There is nothing to be afraid of—um— what is your name?”
“Ah—ah—Alice, Miss.”
“Well, Alice, there is no reason to be afraid of His Grace. You have seen him at the Archer’s townhouse many, many times, have you not?”
“Yes, Miss.” The maid looked down at her reddened hands, clenched tightly in her lap. She didn’t appear reassured.
“He is not going to hurt you,” Charlotte said, becoming obscurely annoyed with Alice’s continued fear. The fact that Charlotte also found Nathaniel’s presence overwhelming made her more determined to reassure Alice. Then they could all relax—particularly Charlotte.
Maybe the maid was terrified because he was a duke. That simply proved people allowed titles to unduly impress them.
A small voice whispered that if she took away the title, Nathaniel would still be impressive and dangerous. The thought made her uneasy.
“You should listen to your maid,” he commented.
The oblique warning started the maid’s whimpering anew.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! This is absurd!” Charlotte covered her nervousness with the more manageable emotion of impatience. “Your Horrible Highness,” she added. “I am coming with you to assist with this silly rumor about—” she stopped to take a quick peek at the maid. Charlotte did not want to alarm her any further.
However, the maid was no longer capable of paying any attention to anyone. Succumbing to her terror, she sat weeping into her shawl, huddled in the corner.
“I don’t need your assistance,” the duke said.
“Yes, you do. You either cannot, or will not, be pleasant enough to the women who attended the ball to question them.”
“If I am pleasant to them, they take it as an invitation to become the next duchess—”
“Which I obviously don’t have the least desire to become,” she said. It felt like she was lying. “So there is no need for you to scowl at me. And, since you are positively terrified of women, I will question them while you interrogate their husbands, or fathers, or any other males you see fit to quiz.”
The corners of his mouth twitched as if he was about to smile. But he managed to control himself and deepen his frown. “There is no need to come with me in order to speak to the females—”
“Actually, there is.” Charlotte paused.
How could she admit she wanted to help him because she liked the Archers? For once, she wanted to stay, at least for a little while, and she did not want to see the family ruined by sordid rumors.
Most of all, she did not want to see Nathaniel ruined by accusations.
Clasping her hands ever more tightly, she replied in a painfully even tone, “Most of the women don’t know me. However, if I am escorted by someone they wish to entertain, someone like an unmarried duke, they will speak to me.”
“No one would refuse to speak to you.”
She couldn’t reply until she cleared the lump from the back of her throat. Men never understood, particularly those with titles. “It is not that I lack money or even good breeding. It is that they don’t approve of my ideas.” Or me, for that matter. I am only a rebellious Colonist, after all.
“That is absurd. A lot of females—”
“It is not absurd, you don’t understand—”
“Will you allow me the courtesy of finishing at least one sentence?” he asked in exasperation.
Cheeks flaming with mortification, she nodded.
He said, “I cannot tell you how many women—and men—have very odd notions. In fact, I have often thought the hallmark of a true Englishman is having peculiar ideas. You refine too much on trivialities. You are perfectly acceptable and most of the ladies would be more than happy to invite you to tea.”
“That is not true,” she said, thinking of Almack’s rejection. “Although I do agree with you that the English have more than their fair share of strange notions. Nonetheless, the fact remains I am not, and never have been, a socially popular woman. If I were, I wouldn’t have lived with five—or is it six—families over the last nine years.
“However, what is important is discovering who murdered that poor girl. Not whether I
am a popular debutante or bluestockinged hoyden.”
He laughed. “I agree, although I also will not forget what you have said. I intend to prove you are as popular as any other debutante stumbling across the dance floor at Almack’s.”
“Done!” Charlotte said before murmuring, “And what a lovely compliment. I may be exceedingly tall, but I do not stumble across the dance floor.”
Nathaniel leaned back, stretching out his long legs on either side of her. Again she realized how tiny the carriage was. His knees were so close to hers she could feel the heat between them. As the carriage swayed, his legs bumped hers and seemed to linger, rubbing against her.
Was he conscious of it? When she glanced at him, there was an almost feral gleam in his eyes.
“I never said you stumbled. However, I have never had the pleasure of seeing you dance.” The expression of mock innocence on his face made her want to box his ears. “It is doubtful you will ever experience that pleasure.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, glancing down at her hands clasped in her lap. His leg bumped her thigh again. She refused to glance up at his face although his voice sounded as if he were laughing. “The season is not over yet.”
“It is as far as I am concerned.” Her reply sounded tart even to her ears.
A horrified gasp from the maid made Charlotte regret her tone. Trembling and holding her apron to her mouth like a gag, the maid stared at Nathaniel as if she expected him to kill them both.
“Oh, do be at ease, Alice,” Charlotte said, grasping the girl’s arm.
The maid shrieked and pulled away. Her watery brown eyes flickered from Charlotte to Nathaniel in rapid succession.
After an abrupt, dismissive flap of his hand toward Alice, Nathaniel sat up and glanced out the window. “Well, she is no use to you—or me.”
Charlotte sighed. “Unfortunately, I agree. Had I known she was so prone to hysterics I would never have brought her along. Please hush, Alice! No one is going to hurt you!”
“His Grace will have me put off!”
“He will do no such thing!” Charlotte replied, trying to keep her voice soft. “In fact, he is going to turn the carriage around. We will return to the Archers’ where you can go back to dusting the hall table and anything else you wish.”
“Thank you, Miss,” Alice replied, her thin, chapped hands twisting the raveling ends of her shawl. “And you will not hold it against me, Your Grace?”
“I will not even remember your name,” Nathaniel assured her, although his sarcastic tone made Charlotte cast a quick look at him. He smiled benignly and rapped the ceiling of the coach before giving the order to turn the carriage around.
With that reassurance, the maid picked up the corner of her apron and started chewing on the ragged hem. She kept her eyes resolutely fastened on the open window.
Taking that good example to heart, Charlotte gazed out her own window. She refused to look at Nathaniel even though it felt as if his blue eyes were burning the side of her face.
When they arrived back at the townhouse, Tom Henry opened the door and held out his hand to help the little maid descend. He appeared somewhat startled when he saw Charlotte. However, he recovered swiftly and again held out his hand to assist her.
“Ask Suddley to tell Lady Victoria that Miss Haywood and her nephew would like the pleasure of her company this morning,” Charlotte said.
“Now, Miss?” he asked in confusion, his hand still outstretched.
“Yes. We don’t want to keep His Grace waiting.”
“This is absurd,” Nathaniel protested through clenched teeth. “Get down. I will come back another day if you wish to be escorted to some of the ladies’ residences.”
“I agree. It is absurd for you to protest any further. I am coming with you.” Charlotte settled back against the squabs, adopting a complacent expression. “The matter is obviously settled so don’t be ill-mannered. We shall pay morning calls together. Lady Victoria and I will speak privately with the ladies. Someone may have seen something, and we shall discover it.”
He sat back again and crossed his arms over his chest. After a moment, he stretched out his legs, once more trapping her between them. “I am perfectly capable of making my own inquires—”
“Precisely how many women do you hope to compromise?”
“None—”
“You cannot question the ladies alone without compromising them. So unless that is your purpose, you must allow us to help you. Young women will be unlikely to speak freely to you, particularly in front of their fathers or brothers. Really, Your Grace, you have no choice.”
“So you do remember how to address me properly.”
“When it suits me, yes. And when you aren’t acting like a complete puddinghead.”
“You know,” he replied in a conversational tone. “You had better pray I am not the murderer. You are making it extremely tempting to have a go at it.” Charlotte snorted.
Exchanging the quivering Alice for Lady Victoria turned out better than Charlotte hoped. With his aunt in the carriage, Nathaniel mostly kept to his own side, although his knees still rubbed against hers more frequently than seemed quite necessary.
“I am so relieved you are allowing us to assist you, Your Grace,” Lady Victoria announced after rearranging her skirts in the cramped seat. “We have been so worried. What is it we are to do?”
One look at Nathaniel’s wry expression made
Charlotte answer hastily, “We are going to pay calls on the guests who were present the night Lady Anne died. While the duke interviews the gentlemen, we will speak to the ladies.”
Lady Victoria nodded. “Very good. An excellent plan.”
Although it sounded reasonable, it turned into more of an ordeal than any of them imagined. Everyone was pleased to have a duke visit, but no one had any new information. Most had not even known about the murder until they read about it in the newspaper or heard the gossip from their lady’s maid while getting their hair brushed and pinned the next morning.
After the third call, they climbed wearily back into their carriage.
Lady Victoria smoothed a stray curl straggling over Charlotte’s forehead and remarked, “This has not been terribly effective, has it? It is simply too bad no one seems to have seen anything.”
“If you’d listened when I indicated it would be useless—” Nathaniel replied, the clenched muscles in his jaw showing his exasperation.
“One more, just one more interview today,” Charlotte said. There had to be someone who had seen something. Someone who was watching Nathaniel and knew he had not killed anyone.
“What about Miss Mooreland?” Nathaniel groaned.
“I am not sure,” Lady Victoria said, eyeing her nephew. “I am inclined to think this is not the proper way to go about this.”
“I refuse to visit the Moorelands. Her father will think I’ve come to make an offer for her,” he said. “I’ve no wish to go through that again after what happened at the Howard residence.”
“How was I to know they would believe that your desire to speak with Mr. Howard indicated you were considering offering for his daughter? It was a natural mistake—”
“Very natural. I warn you, I have no intention of calling on any more families with unmarried daughters above the age of thirteen!”
“But Miss Mooreland—”
“Miss Mooreland already entertains ideas about me which I have no wish to encourage.”
“What I was going to say, if you would allow me, is that Lady Victoria and I can call on Miss Mooreland. There is no need for you to accompany us.”
“Must we?” Lady Victoria replied, leaning back in the corner of the carriage with her eyes closed. “I cannot believe she would be of any help to His Grace.”
“I can go alone if you are tired, but I honestly believe she might help us. She is in love with—” Charlotte paused when Nathaniel scowled at her. “She has set her cap at His Grace and watched him closely that night. It is just as valua
ble to find someone who can say he did not do it as it is to find whoever did do it.”
Nathaniel smiled grimly. “That does, unfortunately, make sense. However, my aunt is tired. I have already stated I have no intention of visiting any more fathers of marriageable daughters. So if you insist, we will let you out at the Mooreland’s door.”
“Splendid,” Charlotte said.
A few minutes later, she was sitting in a lovely sitting room filled with chintz-covered chairs and small tables overflowing with bits of sewing, novels from the lending library, penny dreadfuls and several La Belle Assemblée fashion magazines. Miss Mooreland was struggling with a lapful of ribbons, corded trim and scraps of silk.
“Oh, Miss Haywood! How lovely to see you again! I beg your pardon, but I was attempting to straighten out my sewing kit.” She broke off when a handful of pearl buttons slipped out of her lap and scattered across the floor. “Oh, no!”
Charlotte laughed and ran after the buttons, stooping to pick them up. “Here are your buttons, are you planning a sewing project?”
Miss Mooreland shook her head, her brown eyes merry. “I start many projects and finish very few. My mother says I am quite hopeless and like a magpie, I am too easily distracted by the newest bright thing.” Her eyes flicked to the open magazines. They showed several illustrations of the summer styles with their line of trim down the front and along the hem.
“I understand completely, I am precisely the same way.” It wasn’t strictly the truth since Charlotte felt duty-bound to finish anything she started, but she did like Miss Mooreland and her cheerful, if messy, morning room.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, do have a seat,” Miss Mooreland indicated the chair opposite her. “I have not seen you since Lady Beatrice’s ball, such a dreadful thing.”
“Did you know Lady Anne?”
Miss Mooreland nodded, tears filling her eyes. “Yes. We were good friends, despite our both falling in love with the same man.”
“The Duke of Peckham?”
“Yes,” she said, daubing at her eyes with a scrap of blue silk. “Who could help but love him—he is so handsome, so—”
Aristocratic? Powerful? Rich?
Love Regency Style Page 156
