A Lady to Desire

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  “Go on.” Charlotte was now curious to see where this chat would lead.

  “I have experience with Lord Snowly, more so than most ladies, for our acquaintance goes back to childhood,” Lady Priscilla offered. “He is polite, handsome, charming, wealthy, and on the surface, everything a woman seeking a husband could desire.”

  “The same could be said of Lord Underhill,” Charlotte replied, beginning to see Lady Priscilla’s point.

  “But beneath the surface, they are not quite what they seem, are they? There is another side to each of them, not readily apparent at first glance. They are not perfect gentlemen, either of them, though each in very different ways. Ways that should make a lady of good sense be wary, at least until her heart is decided and she is ready to accept all facets of the gentleman she chooses for her own.” Lady Priscilla’s eyes flickered to where the two men now sat in close proximity to each other, though that was likely by accident. Or so Charlotte hoped. After all, Noah was still perched on his throne-like chair.

  “I know that you care for Lord Underhill and that you are developing some degree of feelings for Lord Snowly, I think.” Lady Priscilla’s face held no trace of accusation.

  “Perhaps.” Charlotte was in no rush to admit anything just yet.

  The other woman gave her a knowing look. “I cannot tell you what to do, nor do I believe that my thoughts on the matter would be welcomed just now. All I am saying is to be careful and think matters through before you choose a course of action. Gentlemen such as they are can be more akin to wild creatures and as such, can be unpredictable. Also, never allow them to push you into a choice you’ve no wish to make or perform an action you find distasteful. Choices such as the one you are facing are not easy and it is possible to make a mistake.” She paused. “I did.”

  “I’ve made no decision yet. It is too soon,” Charlotte confided, having no idea why she was doing so other than that Lady Priscilla was easy to speak with. “Which I should think would please you given that you seem to enjoy Lord Underhill’s company as well.”

  “I do,” the other woman agreed. “He is a fine man, but neither of us is under any illusions about what our relationship is or is not, unlike you and Lord Snowly. The viscount and I are friends, nothing more. That is all we shall remain as well. At least for now.” She gave a meaningful pause. “As you cannot help but notice, he is rather handsome, not to mention just the right sort of gentleman to inspire a woman’s…admiration. A woman could do worse than to become Lady Underhill.”

  Which was Lady Priscilla’s gentle way of saying that she would not take Francis from Charlotte now, at least not before Charlotte could make up her mind which gentleman she favored. But if Charlotte were to choose Lord Snowly – or perhaps another gentleman, though there were none here who had found her favor as of yet – then perhaps Lady Priscilla would pursue Francis after all. It was evident she found him attractive. The other woman was also giving Charlotte something to think about – namely, how would Charlotte feel if another woman became Francis’ wife?

  Charlotte now also wondered if Lady Priscilla still cared for Noah, though based on her actions that morning when he had been injured, Charlotte supposed that question had already been answered to a large degree. So how would Lady Priscilla feel if another woman became Noah’s wife? Or did it even matter?

  Did Lady Priscilla know what sort of man Noah was beneath the polite veneer, as she had hinted, or was she merely guessing? Did she know about the Duke of Springford and his plans for Noah? If she did know, did those plans disgust her as much as they did Charlotte or did she view such a thing as merely the price a lady had to pay for what she desired? If Priscilla did, in fact, desire Noah enough to want to become his wife, whatever the cost.

  Charlotte had no idea, and she had a feeling that Lady Priscilla would not be offering any insights just now.

  “I…admire Lord Underhill as well,” Charlotte finally replied slowly. “However, our relationship is complex, I fear.”

  “Except that, truly, it isn’t.” Lady Priscilla cocked her head to the side. “Either you wish him to be yours or you do not. It really is no more complicated than that. However, I will grant you that the path to reach the point you desire might be extremely complicated and coming to a decision when one has an embarrassment of riches can take time.” With that, the duke’s sister rose, seemingly effortless in her grace and dignity. “The house party ends in three days. I would hope that you have made a decision by then. It is not fair to keep men such as those two dangling forever. Nor are all ladies inclined to wait for you to make a decision. Even my patience has limits.”

  Charlotte rose as well for she was tiring of this room and the music, though the conversation had been enlightening to a large degree and had given her much to think about. “I agree,” she replied, “and I’ve no intention of doing so. For my own reasons, you understand, and no others.”

  “Of course. Which is as it should be.” As Lady Priscilla was about to depart, she paused and turned back to Charlotte once more. “Also, please call me Cilla. All my friends do. And I would very much like to be your friend, strange as that might seem to you, given that we both have similar interests in a certain area.”

  “Cilla, then.” Charlotte inclined her head, not wishing to offend her hostess and liking this woman a good deal more than she had anticipated. “And I am Charlotte to my friends.”

  Priscilla smiled again. “I like you, Lady Charlotte Cleary. Charlotte. More than I thought I would. I hope that you can say the same of me.” Another pause. “It is a pity that my brother will not choose you for his new bride, for I believe you could lead him on a merry chase, not to mention knock some sense into that thick head of his.”

  “But I am not so inclined, Cilla. I think you know that.” Charlotte began to make her way out of the knot of chairs as the performers changed once more, bringing a new young lady to the center of the room to display her talents.

  “I am aware. I am also aware that you have a difficult decision to make under circumstances I can only guess at, but which I suspect is not pleasant. All I ask is that you leave something for the rest of us. Those of us not fortunate enough to be able to make those kinds of decisions any longer.” Then the duke’s sister was gone, off to the front of the small ballroom so that she could introduce the next young lady to take the makeshift stage.

  Leaving the ballroom behind, Charlotte made her way to the library, seeking a respite from the music and incessant chatter of the assembled crowd. Between the discordant notes and her conversation with Cilla, Charlotte’s head was beginning to pound unmercifully. She would be grateful for some peace and quiet if any could be found.

  What she truly wished to do was speak quietly with Noah for a bit as she had at dinner, but she didn’t dare approach him despite her desire to get to know him better. After the conversation they had enjoyed at dinner, to take the seat next to his plush chair would be tantamount to announcing that they were well on their way to becoming betrothed, even though there had been no such talk. Well at least not between the two of them, anyway. In this world, many times actions spoke louder than any words ever could.

  Therefore, silence and solitude it would be.

  Taking a candle from a nearby table, Charlotte lit the small taper from one of the many branches that littered the hallway and decided to poke about in search of a book that might help calm her thoughts. Something told her that she and Priscilla likely had similar taste in books, including gothic novels, and there was probably a copy of Mrs. Kingsley and the Black Pirate somewhere about. Charlotte thoroughly enjoyed that book and had not re-read it in at least a year. She counted the novel as one of her very favorites and the adventures of the romantic couple often helped to calm her mind when nothing else could.

  However as she continued to look about the shelves for something to read, Charlotte found her mind continually drifting back to her conversation with Priscilla, which was not calming at all.

  Priscilla had impl
ied that Noah had secrets of his own. Did he? Likely so, for most gentlemen of note did. Were they completely wretched then, or not so very terrible? Did he know about his uncle’s plans for her? For he knew about her existence, but he had never so much as hinted that he knew what his uncle and her father had in mind for the two of them. Noah didn’t know about her father’s plans for him, however, and she had yet to warn Noah either. She should. So why was she hesitating? She had already made up her mind to remain at the house party, so revealing the truth now would do no harm, nor would it change anything.

  If Noah did know of his uncle’s plans, was he amenable to them? Was he willing to bed his uncle’s wife in order to preserve the ducal line, so long as he liked the woman he was bedding – a woman he would one day very probably take as his own bride when the period of mourning ended? If he was amenable to such a thing, did that change how Charlotte herself felt about him?

  It should, for the entire plan was despicable and so very scandalous, not to mention extremely distasteful. However if Lord Snowly was the man she ultimately chose and not Francis, would it matter in the end how she came to be his wife and in his bed? It should and supposed that to some degree, it did. However if Francis still declined to wed her after this week, what choice would Charlotte have but to choose Noah and whatever complications came with him? None really, because he was preferable to the wretched Duke of Springford.

  Could she swallow her own distaste for the whole affair as long as she knew Noah, and not the duke, would be the man to bed her, despite her marriage vows? If she could, did that make her amoral as well? Or merely practical, for in general, even Society women had little choice in their selection of a husband?

  And how did Noah feel about this matter anyway if he did know? It might make her own decision easier if she knew at last that much. Then again, if she knew whether or not Francis would wed her in the near future that would also make her decision easier as well.

  Drat the men in her life anyway. Though, to be fair, this was not entirely their fault, and these questions in her brain would not likely be answered this evening. Or tomorrow for that matter, even though that was likely her next chance to speak with Noah privately.

  Rummaging about the shelves, Charlotte never did find a copy of Mrs. Kingsley and the Black Pirate, but she did find a copy of Lady Anna and the Mad Duke of the North, another gothic novel that she had read before and thoroughly enjoyed. It wasn’t Mrs. Kingsley but it would do.

  Plucking the thick volume from the shelves, Charlotte was about to return to her room for the night. Except that when she turned around, there was Francis. What was it with people sneaking up on her as of late? Surely she had not become that scatterbrained.

  Then she took in Francis’ disheveled state, including his unbuttoned evening shirt that revealed a lovely but far too brief glimpse of bare male chest and thought that perhaps she was that scatterbrained after all. For she could think of nothing just then but how she would feel if she touched him there, not to mention how good she might be able to make him feel as well. However, when he closed the library door and locked it behind him, Charlotte began to wonder if he intended to make her feel good in another fashion and if she would resist. The answer was probably not.

  “You shouldn’t be here. Alone. Anything could happen to you.”

  “There is a houseful of guests. I do not believe I am in any real danger.”

  “Then you do not know men half as well as you think you do.”

  Francis had been watching Charlotte all evening, the way she flitted from gentleman to gentleman, talking and laughing as if she hadn’t a care in the world. He had watched as she allowed all manner of men to pay her court, watched the eyes of those same men as they roamed her body hungrily, imagining her naked in their beds. For Francis knew they were doing just that – because he was too.

  In fact, getting Charlotte into his bed was all Francis had been able to think about since their interlude in the garden earlier that day. He had wanted to take her then. He should have taken her. Except he held back, just as he always did when the doubts began to whisper through his mind.

  Now he was regretting that decision. For Francis was coming to the conclusion that while he might not have been an outright rogue during the years he had spent as Lord William Denton, he also had the impression he had not been a saint either. Dr. Hastings had said that over time, Francis would eventually figure out the sort of man he truly was, even if he never regained his memories. That there were some things simply innate to a person, including certain behaviors, which returned even in the absence of memory. Was that what was happening now? Because Francis wanted Charlotte with a passion that was becoming more and more difficult to deny and he had a feeling that would be true no matter if he was William or Francis. Either way, that desire for her would remain.

  “I know enough of men,” Charlotte huffed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I am not so innocent as you assume. And I also know that you should not be here alone with me either.”

  “And yet I am here. As are you.” He regarded her for a long moment, drinking in the sight of her in that pretty pink gown that clung to her in all of the right places. “And neither of us is leaving.”

  “You should.” She was glaring at him now though that did not make her any less desirable in his eyes. “I was here first.”

  “And yet you are the one with the book in your hands, clearly ready to depart.” Francis grinned in spite of himself. He had forgotten how much fun bantering with Charlotte could be. When had he turned into a stodgy old man? Sometime over the last year, he presumed. Terribly bad form of him, really.

  Placing the book on a nearby table, Charlotte stood very still for quite a long time. Likely in an attempt to control her temper, for Francis had seen just how fierce she could be when she gave those emotions free reign.

  “What are we doing here, Francis?” she asked quietly, her fingers flexing at her sides.

  “What you wanted, pet,” he replied easily, his eyes still roaming her body hungrily, which she undoubtedly had noticed by now. A bloody saint, indeed. He thought not. “You wanted time to explore and come to a decision. About us. About our future. I agreed and said that I would do the same.”

  She made a grumbling sort of noise though her eyes flashed dark fire. “With an eye toward marriage, Francis, or have you forgotten that part? You know that is what I wish and I believe that you have made your thoughts on that topic rather clear.” She cast him a baleful look. “And what is all of the flirting and kissing about? A bit less than a fortnight ago, I all but undressed for you and you pushed me away as if I disgusted you.”

  Was that what she thought? Truly? Francis hadn’t realized she felt that way. He thought she had understood he was merely being prudent and yes, looking back now, a bit overly cautious. Odd how it took almost losing a woman to make a man realize that sometimes, there was such a thing as being too proper.

  “You never disgusted me, Charlotte. You never could.” Francis took a step toward her, thankful when she did not back away but merely continued to glare at him. “I told you earlier that I still desired you. That was no lie. At that ball, I was simply trying to do what is right and proper.” She made a disgruntled sort of noise. “However, perhaps I have been too proper. Too staid.”

  “Perhaps?” she snorted indelicately. “Only perhaps? You underestimate yourself, my lord?” Once more the “my lord” part came out as more of a sneer.

  “Very well. I have been an utter bore. Tedious really, and I have no idea how you put up with me.” He cocked his head to the side. “But no more.”

  Charlotte eyed him suspiciously and he could not blame her for this was new to him as well. “What has changed?”

  “I have.” Francis took another step forward and she refused back up, but then, that was Charlotte. At least Charlotte as she was now for she, too, had changed a great deal over the last year, even if she did not realize it. “You have changed as well. Circumstances, too. A great man
y things really. But one thing has never changed.”

  “Which is?” This time she took a step forward, the tips of her slippers nearly meeting the toes of his boots.

  “My passion for you.” He shrugged trying not to reveal too much too soon and wondering if he was failing at that just the same. “I told you earlier, Charlotte. My desire for you has not died. Nor will it ever.”

  Now she glared at him, magnificent in her anger. “Which is all very well and good, but that is not the same thing as a proposal of marriage. Not at all, and you know that is what I desire. In fact, it is…”

  Unable to stop himself, Francis closed the tiny remaining distance between them as she was rambling on, seized her by the upper arms and kissed her within an inch of her life if only to shut her up. What he had not expected was that she would kiss him back just as passionately.

  “Francis,” she whispered her voice heated and rough, all of her passion and anger tangled up inside of her, pouring out into this single kiss.

  “Charlotte,” he sighed as he pulled back slightly. “Be quiet and simply enjoy. Enough for now.”

  He didn’t think she would do as he commanded. She was too much of a firebrand. Once more she surprised him when she nodded in acquiescence and simply pressed herself closer to him, leaning her body into his and twining her arms around his neck so that she could tilt her head to allow him better access to her mouth.

  And oh what a mouth she had.

  Francis had kissed Charlotte before, many times. That was true. However, those kisses all paled in comparison to this one, even the one in the garden that morning. It was as if being at this foolish house party had loosened the restraints placed on them back in London, as if they could allow themselves to be who they truly were. He was a man who desired this woman, who would like to make her his wife when the time was right. For now, however, he would simply claim her mouth as his own property and hope to convince her to wait for him. That the passion they shared would make the wait worthwhile.