London's Best Kept Secret

by Anabelle Bryant

  She didn’t wish to break the spell, but the threat of disappointment surfaced despite all effort, and she voiced her fear, willing to take the risk to spare her heart. “Jeremy.” Her voice broke on the last syllable. She took an abrupt breath as he lifted his head to match her eyes. “You’re different. Unguarded and attentive. Is this the real you?”

  Her question seemed to evoke a series of emotions, though his answer was fast in coming.

  “Would it suffice to say, it’s the part I like best?”

  Truly, his answer was no answer at all, and she couldn’t help but wonder over her husband’s contrary behavior. Perhaps no guarantee existed, no surety to be found in their unlikely union, but she possessed enough wherewithal to encourage conversation and with any luck secure common ground on which to build a stronger relationship.

  “Tell me about your interests. At times you spend hours in your study with your secretary. If we’re to become better acquainted, we should share what might have come naturally if we’d a formal courtship.” Had she truly suggested they stop kissing and talk? Foolish. Beyond foolish, really. Yet this opportunity was a gift not to be wasted. He dropped his hands, stepped away and eyed her with a wary gleam.

  “You’re interested?” He seemed skeptical of her curiosity, though his hesitation was slight. “Monetary matters and business negotiations are unsuitable subjects for a lady and terribly boring at that, although I hone my mind’s acuity with cartography. Studying maps and at times drawing them is an exercise of meticulous precision and exactitude.”

  “I wondered about all those maps.” She dared a slight giggle and relaxed by degree. “I suppose treasure hunting was a leap of imagination on my part.”

  He chuckled at her response, and the rich, velvety sound rippled through her. It was the first time she’d ever heard him laugh. If only she could capture the sound in a jar and listen to it later, alone in her bedchambers.

  “Ah, treasure hunting is a fanciful idea. But no, I’m afraid cartography is a staid and rather quiet preoccupation. Although sometimes a man finds treasure where he least expects it.” Half his mouth quirked in an attractive grin, and his piercing attention caused her skin to heat. “What is it you truly wish to know?”

  She swallowed, a plethora of questions jumping to the fore. Did he care for her? Why had he chosen to marry her? What explanation existed for his peculiar behavior nearly every day since they’d wed? “Have you any extended family?” She bit her lower lip again, this time in punishment for cowardice. “Your secretary and few others attended our expeditious ceremony.”

  “Considering the short notice, Lindsey and Faxman were sufficient witnesses. Besides, I have little family to share. My mother passed when I was away at Eton, and my father followed not three years later. I’ve managed, independent and self-sufficient, for most of my adult life.” He paused, but for no longer than an exhale. “Please don’t pity the fact. I know you come from a large family. My background and modest title have allowed me to do what I enjoy best, negotiate business, and at the same time enjoy the spoils of better society.”

  His voice dropped low with the last of it, and she realized he meant her as one of the aforementioned spoils more than the predicament of his status.

  “Is there anything you’d like to know about me?” Her meek question composed a dare no matter it soft-spoken.

  “Myriad things, Charlotte.” His expression transformed, and his gaze fell upon her with direct intensity. “How did you become so accomplished on the pianoforte?” His question seemed to contradict the emotion in his eyes.

  “I owe my love of music to my mother. She sang to me each night before bed, and as I grew older, I expressed the desire to make music to accompany her lovely voice. My father indulged all his daughters and promptly purchased a pianoforte. I became immediately enchanted. The sleek keys and strong melodies charmed me into relentless practice and I fell hopelessly in love with the instrument.”

  “One can tell by listening to you play.”

  His expression grew pensive again. Would that she could read his mind. She rushed on, her stomach aflutter from his compliment and at the same time perplexed, unable to decipher the meaning.

  “You know my father, of course, but I’d like you to become acquainted with my mother and sisters in a less formal manner. Perhaps we can invite them to dinner soon.” It was an adventurous suggestion, one she would never have been able to give voice if it weren’t for his bold kisses and charming conversation. Somehow, their embrace had crumbled the first impervious wall, and she forged ahead, heartened and encouraged.

  “If it pleases you.” His tone suggested he was less than.

  “My sisters will be thrilled. You have no idea the amount of questioning I endure when I visit home. A dinner gathering will diffuse their collective meddling for a long while.” She persisted, amused by her sisters’ inquisitive interest and hopeful she’d draw Jeremy’s good humor and agreement.

  “As long as we strive to keep the conversation informal, with no discussion of business, past or present.”

  It seemed an odd request and a small concession. She recalled how his mood had changed when she’d mentioned her family’s shared gratitude for the financial rescue. Answering with a vigorous nod, she reached out to touch his arm, and he caught her hand instead, pulled her forward until she stood before him, the space between their mouths rapidly decreased.

  “Thank you.” The words accompanied a gasp, and her pulse leaped. Did he think she thanked him for tugging her closer? Indeed, she was thankful for that too.

  “What else do you wish to know, wife?”

  The words were an affectionate tease and her heart beat heavy in her chest. Neatly captured in his arms now, his breath warmed her cheek, and were she to move the slightest, another kiss would be had. Her husband was indeed a charmer. No wonder he’d accomplished so much with so little early on in life.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hold you close?” He tugged her tight against his chest and did not pause enough for her answer. His words shocked and thrilled at the same time. “Since the first moment I saw you perched on that proper piano bench like a china figurine. It was your beauty that snagged my attention, and your skillful playing that entranced me. I became transfixed and couldn’t bear to look away.”

  “I don’t understand.” And she didn’t. She met his eyes, brown though nearly black, long lashed and so intense at the moment that words tripped off her tongue. “We’d never met. We had no introduction that evening. You’d never spoken to me and—”

  But he didn’t allow her to finish, effectively silencing her with a hard kiss.

  And what a kiss.

  His mouth found hers half-open and he took advantage, the delicious heat of his tongue a sensual rub that erased any haunting inconsistency or unruly prevarication.

  Little made sense beyond the moment, and it didn’t matter.

  She gave herself over to him and melted into his embrace.

  * * *

  He was a man of control. He planned. He pursued. He achieved. Ten months ago, he’d plotted a deceitful intention and by use of his sharpest weapon, his intelligence, he’d succeeded. By that same control, he kept emotion on a short leash. Still, it hadn’t protected him from falling in love. Love was a complex matter that knew no control.

  Tonight, he’d pushed past the risk of failure. Tonight, though no easy task, he’d silenced the voices that warned him away and, with that, overcame hesitation. Now the reward of his efforts stood within his embrace. He skimmed his fingers across her cheek, felt her quiver beneath his fingertips, the gentle reaction so visceral it stirred his soul.

  How she would loathe him when she learned the truth.

  He forced the intrusive reality from his brain. He would make her love him. It was the only course of action.

  He captured her mouth in a kiss meant to obliterate any wayward hesitation she might have, but it accomplished much more. He’d waited and wanted for so long, the
tether on restraint had frayed dangerously thin. He needed to stop kissing her or he would never stop kissing her.

  Reason led him to an end. “Until dinner, then.” He murmured the words against her lips and moved away.

  “Yes.”

  She sounded breathless but didn’t say more. She straightened her skirts and stepping back a pace in kind, as if they could think more clearly and examine the interaction if only they decreased proximity.

  She was finely made, his wife, of graceful figure and uncommon beauty, and if he did not overwhelm her or cause her to think him false, then perhaps somehow they could see themselves to happiness. He wanted nothing more than that.

  * * *

  Much later in the evening, when dinner was finished, the glow of a pleasant evening spent in the company of her husband was reviewed in the privacy of her bedchambers. With a grin of fascination, Charlotte playfully danced a length of ribbon in front of the kitten’s nose as she retold the whimsical musings and otherwise besotted flirtations shared through the meal.

  “Jeremy is quite appealing when he puts his mind to the task. I was entranced through all four courses, so much so, I haven’t a fig what I ate for dinner tonight.” She untangled the ribbon beneath the kitten’s claws and shimmied it across the counterpane. “We shared more conversation in this one evening than the ten months of our marriage.”

  There hadn’t been any more kisses, but that didn’t matter. She had yet to recover from their intimacy in the music room. Her body tingled still, the remembrance alive and treasured. She trailed her fingertips across her collarbone, relishing the sensation, and as she dropped her hand, it skimmed over the key pinned in her bodice. She shot her eyes to the adjoining door to their bedchambers and then rose from the mattress with a smile.

  “We don’t need to wonder about this key anymore, do we, little one?” She spoke over her shoulder with a glance to the kitten atop the bed, paws at work shredding the scrap of ribbon. She unfastened the key so it lay flat in her palm. Without another thought, she opened the porcelain hairpin jar on her vanity and dropped it inside.

  Atop her bed, the kitten jerked into the air, a series of playful hops that caused Charlotte an immediate grin. “Look at you. You’re as elusive as a flash of light. I’ve decided your name. I’ll call you Shadow.” She pivoted with impish glee and scooped up the kitten to cuddle it close. “Now, let’s discuss my husband’s kisses. I refuse to believe anything more divine exists.”

  * * *

  Dearing settled into his usual chair at White’s and signaled a footman for brandy. He’d purposely removed himself from home this evening as an act of preservation. Dinner had proceeded smoothly. His wife proved a wit, her animated conversation almost a distraction from his lust, but not quite.

  Damn him if he couldn’t solve that problem soon.

  He’d known he’d wanted her after one evening in what seemed like years ago instead of ten months. Independent from a young age, he was a man who knew his own mind, satisfied with life until he saw Charlotte, and his world shifted. He resolved in that moment he’d never regain balance until he learned more about her, discovered why she affected him so. From that point, he’d made discreet inquiries, from which all answers led him to believe his chances at capturing her attention were slim. He was a viscount with a quiet title surrounded by gentlemen with far more to encourage their appeal. Yet there was no time to gain ground. He saw his rivals, most particularly Adams, watch Charlotte with admiration in their eyes and attractive marriage offers on the tip of their tongues. He needed an edge, a unique and private crisis; otherwise, any gentleman would win her before he made the slightest progress.

  Her family, well-known and respected, socialized with the upper crème of society. He lived on the outer fray, mostly by choice. Yet with the same decisive intuition employed to negotiate impossible business transactions, he’d chosen not to live with remorse, but rather to use his intelligence to gain what he wanted.

  And he’d managed it, hadn’t he?

  Until now.

  What he hadn’t anticipated was the torturous wait between the betrothal and the establishment of a contented union. Self-inflicted through his own poor actions, he’d created injured feelings and now, at last on solid footing, believed happiness was within reach. It wasn’t lust that drove him, though as a healthy male he yearned for the intimate relationship consummation offered. No, a bond far more precious needed to be established for their marriage to survive the possible exposure of his misdeeds. He longed to confess his admiration and know in his heart Charlotte held the same esteem for him.

  Thereby, tonight he’d removed himself and likewise prevented temptation from a prodding knock on Charlotte’s bedchamber door, inviting himself in. He would offer her more time.

  Damn her lacy pantalets.

  Confident she was also aware of the inevitable, evidenced by her genuine, enthusiastic reaction earlier, he measured his time, investing interest so as to avoid regret. Had he any hope she would forgive him if his treachery came to light, they would need the surest marriage, one based on trust and affection, a strong, resilient relationship to endure a betrayal of great proportion. Not a single night of consuming passion.

  He accepted a brandy from the silver tray and swore into his glass with the first swallow.

  “Isn’t this an unexpected pleasure?” Lindsey materialized from a dark corner and leaned against the mahogany buttress aligned with the bookcase-lined wall. “How goes things at home? Have you taken my advice? You look more at ease, although an appearance here when you should be acting the attentive husband doesn’t bode well.”

  “Good evening, Lindsey.” He slanted a glance in his friend’s direction.

  “What are you about? I thought you were making an effort, garnering favor, gaining ground and whatnot.”

  “Mind your words.” Why was it Lindsey made it sound a game when nothing could be more serious?

  “I see. A delicate subject, at best.” Lindsey settled in the overstuffed wingback chair on the diagonal, his back to the hearth and his face in shadow. “You must relish the challenge.”

  “Unlike your lineage, I came to London penniless and there I inherited a title, the coat of arms as tattered and worn as the shirt on my back. Still, I overcame adversity and made a tidy fortune.” No emotion colored his tone.

  “Indeed you did, though you might have accomplished the same with a few mindful wagers in the betting books.” Lindsey’s careless grin made a fleeting appearance.

  “Then I suppose you’re right, I relish the challenge.” Dearing forced himself to relax. In this, all was different.

  He’d fallen mindlessly in love.

  It sounded foolish, and he would never admit to such folly, but the truth knows the heart and vice versa. He had no other way to explain his immediate need to claim Charlotte. It was that shift in balance, a feeling his life would never be right without her in it.

  “I’ll never forget the look on Tomlin’s face when you fleeced him.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “When the poor fool realized you owned his estate and stable.” Lindsey placed his empty glass on the table between them as swift as the change of subject. “You shocked the old earl and added another enemy to the list.”

  “You portray me as ruthless when you know better.” His voice held a strong note of warning, and while he considered Lindsey a friend, the man often provoked him in the worst manner. They’d known each other for years, through all kinds of hardship, and Dearing trusted Lindsey without hesitation, yet lately, it was as if the earl possessed a hidden agenda that included irritation of the finest degree.

  “All I’m saying is that you’ve collected an assortment of adversaries, all who would delight in ruining your happiness were your secret ever to be known.”

  At the mention of exposure, a chill settled in Dearing’s stomach. What malevolence provoked Lindsey’s rash comment? “Then it would serve all involved that the matter stayed locked in a box
where it belongs.” He forced an expression of ease, though his innards jerked tight. He’d lost the key, and while he tried to believe it was of no consequence, because whoever found it wouldn’t be able to match it to the lock, another power within him, some unnatural shadow of fear, reminded him he needed to keep his past hidden at all costs.

  He blew a long breath and turned the tables. “Why aren’t you out gambling or whoring? Isn’t that how indecently wealthy bachelors waste their evenings?” His amiable tone had evaporated.

  “I’ve heard rumors to that effect.” Lindsey donned the grin of a sinner. “But none for me. At least not of late.”

  A few beats of silence stretched between them until a raucous uproar across the room drew Lindsey’s attention, and he was off to nose around without the vaguest acknowledgment.

  Dearing watched his friend depart and wondered further at the strange and unexplained happenings lately. He drained his glass and stood. Life had grown complicated, but one thing remained simple: He would continue to court Charlotte, surprise her with gifts and compliments, and strengthen their bond. From that point, their relationship would mature and her love would be had. Sooner rather than later, he remained sure.

  Chapter Nine

  Sooner presented itself the following day, and anxious to perpetuate his plan, Dearing found Charlotte in the music room studying an assortment of sheet music. Best he get the words out.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he greeted her with a smile.

  “Do you?” She blushed becomingly and offered him her attention.

  He’d discovered how easy it was to please his wife, and that in turn pleased him beyond measure. Reluctant to give credit where due, he acknowledged Lindsey had provided good advice. Without a doubt, Charlotte and he were getting on nicely.