Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Gentlemen of Intrigue Book 1)

by Samantha Grace

  “You don’t remember anything, do you?” Miss Darlington released a noisy breath and smiled. She seemed relieved, although he didn’t know why she should be happy he’d lost his memory. “Dr. Portier said when people bump their heads, they often cannot recall the accident or events leading up to it. Do you remember anything about breaking into our home?”

  An enticing vision of Miss Darlington in a bath sheet invaded his memory. Her hair hanging loose, the wet ends a deeper gold and curling around her shoulders. Pink skin glistening in candlelight as the flame flickered. Slender arm lifted as if performing an exotic dance. And elegant fingers wrapped around a... fireplace poker!

  His eyebrows shot up. “Did you hit me?”

  “No! You fell down the stairs.”

  “But you had a poker. And, and a bath sheet around your—” He motioned to his chest. His blood soared through his veins as vivid memories of her bare breasts flooded him, arousing him all over again. “You were prepared to strike me. Don’t deny it.”

  She bolted from the bed to stalk over to a tray resting on a chest of drawers. “I thought you didn’t remember anything,” she grumbled.

  No wonder she hadn’t wanted him to remember. She didn’t want him picturing her half-dressed and as enticing as sin. Well, that was too bad. He couldn’t stop thinking about her now.

  Her back was to him as she poured a cup of the restorative broth. “You fell, and it was your own fault for breaking into Uncle Charles’s town house.” She carried the cup to the bed and frowned down at him. “You are lucky I didn’t have you hauled to gaol.”

  He rubbed his forehead where he was sorest, wondering if she was telling the whole truth about the fall. “I suppose you were well within your rights to bash me over the head, but I assure you, it was a mistake. I wandered into the wrong home. I was looking for a friend. What were you doing at home alone?”

  “I owe you no explanations,” she snipped. “And I don’t believe you.” She lowered to the bed beside Xavier. When she met his gaze, the lines on her forehead deepened. “We are helping you, but do not think that means we won’t summon a Runner if needed.”

  He shook his head cautiously, so as not to set off another bout of nausea.

  “Are you feeling well enough to try the broth? You’ve had nothing but a few sips of water since Saturday.”

  “Oui.”

  She slipped her arm around his back and held the cup to his lips. After the first sip of savory broth went down easily and didn’t threaten to come back up, he tried another. Miss Darlington encouraged him to keep drinking until he’d finished the cup.

  A whiff of citrus teased his nose. She not only looked like summer with her glorious sunset hair, she smelled like heaven. He handed her the cup and angled away from her, not wanting to be distracted. He needed to focus on leaving Wedmore House and finding his way to the docks.

  “I promise to answer any questions you pose to the best of my ability,” he said. Gaining her trust would be imperative if he hoped to escape. “But may I ask one more question of you?”

  She nodded sharply and scooted from the bed.

  “Has anyone come looking for me? Does anyone know I am here?”

  “That was two questions, Mr. Vistoire, and why would anyone look for you here if you wandered into the wrong house?” She returned to the tray to pour another cup of broth.

  Damnation. She had the advantage of having her wits about her, and his head was pounding.

  “No one has been around asking after you. I imagine your accomplice believes you’ve been taken to gaol. I saw him hiding behind the hedge, and he ran off when I threatened to summon a Bow Street Runner.”

  She brought him another cup of broth without asking if he wanted one. “Now it is my turn.” Her sculpted brows rose as she waited for him to take the cup.

  “Merci.” He took another drink of broth, feeling his strength returning bit by bit, and studied her over the gilded rim.

  “Why are you truly here, sir?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She crossed her arms. “You don’t expect me to believe you are a common thief with the way you were dressed, unless you stole the clothes you were wearing. And your story about walking into the wrong house is ludicrous. I will ask once more. What is the real reason you broke into Wedmore House?”

  He wasn’t sure what his choices were—thief or what, exactly? Unsure of the correct answer, he held his tongue.

  “Because if you came here believing I would welcome you into my bed,” she said, “you have been listening to the wrong people. Mr. Lawrence is a liar. I never kissed him nor do I plan to allow any other man liberties, and if you tell anyone you stayed at Wedmore House or make up tales about what happened between us, my sisters and I will find a way to make you pay.”

  Xavier gaped. He could either be a thief or a lecherous rake? Neither choice was acceptable, but men were not locked away for being libertines. “I won’t say a word. I am sorry. I was deep in my cups and Mr. Landry—”

  “Lawrence.”

  “Oui, Lawrence. Mr. Lawrence challenged me.” He hung his head in real shame. Mistreating ladies was not part of his repertoire. He had a sister, for pity’s sake, and a female cousin who was as dear as a sister. He was a champion for the fairer sex. Before his abduction, he’d been helping an actress plan her escape from her abusive benefactor. He looked up and held Miss Darlington’s gaze. “This is not who I am. I swear it upon my mother’s grave. I made a mistake.”

  She dropped her arms to her sides. “I don’t know that I have any choice except to believe you.”

  Her quandary was understandable and stirred his sympathy. If she alerted anyone to his presence, she and her sisters would be ruined. He’d been their guest for three nights.

  Her tongue darted over her lips. “Your friend in the hedges… Will he tell anyone where you are?”

  “No.” She had to be referring to Benny. “He is my servant. He doesn’t know anyone, and he is not a chatty type. We are leaving for New Orleans as soon as possible.” Once his head stopped spinning every time he moved. “You will never see either of us again, I promise. Please, allow me to rest a little longer, and I will go.”

  She hesitated before granting permission. “You must stay in this room, and you cannot make a sound. Our great-aunt doesn’t know you are here.”

  “I see. And what about your servants? Do they know?”

  “Only Joy. She is our upstairs maid, and she acts as a lady’s maid when we need her. She has been with us since she was a girl. She has never given us reason to doubt her loyalty.”

  “Are you still between butlers? A household full of women should at least have a butler.”

  She released a forceful exhale as if his questions were trying her patience. “I didn’t realize it was common knowledge. I will place an advertisement after you are gone. We cannot bring on a new man now.”

  “Humph.” He drained the cup rather than speak his mind and risk angering her. The ladies were in this trouble because they had no manservant. Farrin had seen an opportunity and seized it. And he would probably send someone else for the map once he realized Xavier had escaped without searching.

  Even though he barely knew the women, they were showing him kindness in nursing him back to health. He owed them one as well. “Miss Darlington, please don’t delay in placing the advertisement. A home with no man in residence is vulnerable.”

  “We can take care of ourselves, Mr. Vistoire. If you attempt to take liberties while you are recovering, you will discover for yourself.”

  She turned on her heel and marched from the room.

  Xavier closed his eyes, knowing he needed rest to heal. It wouldn’t take long before Farrin realized Miss Darlington hadn’t actually summoned a Runner, and Xavier wanted to be on a ship bound for New Orleans before the blackguard did. He hadn’t yet decided if he had it in him to steal from the young women to pay his fare. Now that he’d made their acquaintances, he had a difficult time thinking o
f them as nothing more than a means to an end.

  Five

  “Are you sure you want to do this, miss?” Joy stood at one end of the copper tub in Regina’s bedchamber, gnawing her lip as she awaited Regina’s response.

  “No, but a warm bath might help ease Mr. Vistoire’s aches and pains. The sooner he feels better, the sooner he can go.”

  In the two days since he’d regained consciousness, he had been nothing but respectful, polite, and charming toward her and her sisters. She’d begun to soften toward him, which was exactly what she feared he wanted. Once she stopped watching her back, he might pounce just like Lord Geoffrey had. Nevertheless, she’d had to relax her vigilance a little. She’d become tired of dissecting every word he spoke and searching for meaning in every look. As long as he continued to act like a gentleman, she could be amiable.

  Taking a deep cleansing breath, she grabbed the edge of the tub and nodded toward Joy. “Let’s do this before Aunt Beatrice returns.”

  Sophia and Evangeline had coaxed their aunt into taking Cupid for a walk with them and promised Regina they would draw it out as long as possible. Fortunately, Aunt Beatrice was a social being and would engage in conversation with most anyone passing on the walkway. Some might say she was a bit too chatty at times, but Regina and her sisters had always loved that about her.

  When their parents died and Uncle Charles had taken Regina and her sisters to live in his home, the quiet had been unbearable. Uncle Charles, being a bachelor, hadn’t seemed to know how to talk to children, and the servants had avoided them. Regina supposed it was difficult to find anything to say to three young orphans, but Aunt Beatrice hadn’t been at a loss. She’d filled the home with enough chatter to chase away the gloom, at least for significant parts of Regina’s day until she no longer hurt as badly as she had in the beginning.

  Regina and Joy lifted opposite ends of the tub and shambled to the spare bedchamber, navigating the long corridor and around the tight corner leading to the doorway. Mr. Vistoire was asleep, but his eyes fluttered open as they placed the tub on the wooden floor with a soft thump.

  “What are you doing?” He sounded hoarse, and he seemed to lack energy to raise his head. “You shouldn’t be lifting tubs.”

  “And why not?” Regina punched her fists to her hips, more comfortable pretending her searing cheeks were a result of irritation rather than from imagining him stripped down to nothing. “I’m as able-bodied as Joy.”

  He frowned. “I hardly think an explanation is required. You are a lady.”

  “I will bring the water, miss.” Joy spun toward the door, but not fast enough to hide her grin. The maid had vocalized a similar sentiment before agreeing to prepare a bath for Mr. Vistoire, but if Regina didn’t help with the tub, who would?

  He yawned and scrubbed a hand over his whiskers before pushing to a seated position. His fingers curled gently around the edge of the mattress as he slumped forward. The day he’d regained consciousness, he’d been unable to sit up for more than a couple of minutes without becoming queasy. Yesterday had been no better. But today, he’d sat up for an hour without becoming sick. It seemed he was on the mend.

  “Have you experienced any nausea today?”

  “No, and my headache is better at the moment.”

  She studied his ruggedly handsome face, wondering if they had ever been at the same assemblies. How she could have ever missed him, she didn’t know. He was different from most of the gentlemen she encountered in the ballrooms. He didn’t possess a doughy middle. In fact, he more closely resembled the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum than most flesh and blood men of her acquaintance.

  “How did you break your nose?” she blurted.

  “It was broken for me.” He reached to touch the flat raised hump where his nose met his face. “Does it make me ugly?”

  “Absolutely hideous. I can barely stand looking at you. Should I retrieve a mirror, so you can see how unsightly you are?”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t if it is that bad.” His green eyes twinkled, revealing he understood she was having a little fun with him.

  When she just stood there, he raised his eyebrows. They disappeared beneath the dark curls hanging down on his forehead. “Well, will you allow me to take a look at myself or not?

  She held up a finger. “One moment.”

  Her smile stayed with her as she returned to her chambers for a handheld looking glass. Mr. Vistoire was far from ugly, but the fact she found him uncommonly handsome was irrelevant. He was leaving. She would never see him again. She was perfectly content with the arrangement.

  After retrieving the mirror from her dressing table, she grabbed the sliver of her favorite soap from the chintz dish on the washstand and headed back to his room. He was waiting on the side of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck, but he dropped his hand to his side when he saw her.

  “How much does it hurt?” she asked. “I could make a trip to the apothecary this afternoon and request a powder.”

  “No, thank you, mademoiselle. I’ve had worse pain. This will pass.” When he lifted the mirror to see his reflection, he grimaced. “You were telling the truth. I look revolting.”

  “I beg your pardon? You do not.”

  “I look like something stuck to the bottom of someone’s boot.” He dropped his hand with the mirror to his lap.

  “Let me have the mirror.” She took it before he could respond and held it in front of him, so he could see his reflection. “What, pray tell, do you find revolting?” Lord knew she needed help seeing his physical flaws, because in her opinion, he was too attractive by half.

  One dark eyebrow lifted. “To begin with, I need a good shave.” He plowed his fingers through his curls. “And I’m beginning to suspect Cupid thinks this mop of hair makes me a pooch, just like him. Only larger. That would explain his fascination with me.”

  Regina laughed; the last traces of tension in her spine melted away. “You don’t look like an overgrown poodle.”

  “But I do need a haircut.” With his head hanging forward again, he angled a smile at her that she couldn’t help returning.

  “A shave and a haircut. My, aren’t you the dandy, Mr. Vistoire?”

  “At one time, I fancied myself quite the swell.”

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  “No, miss.” One side of his mouth inched higher. “I am being friendly.”

  “Humph.”

  Joy returned with a bucket of steaming water. Regina jumped to help her dump it into the tub and took the empty bucket when they were finished. She hadn’t intended to dawdle with Mr. Vistoire, but he could be distracting.

  “Stay where you are,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “The tub will get filled quicker with two of us working.”

  She and Joy made three trips each with buckets of warm water, but the tub was only a quarter full. When they traipsed downstairs a fourth time, Cook apparently couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.

  “Miss Darlington, what are you doing? If you wish to take a bath, Mrs. Cox and I can help Joy.”

  Regina feigned an airy laugh and swiped away the perspiration dampened her brow with the back of her hand. “No, no, this is part of my exercise. The bath is my reward for when I am done.”

  Cook frowned but said nothing more on the subject.

  Regina and Joy resumed filling their buckets and slogged upstairs. The maid entered ahead of Regina, gasped, and slid to a stop. Regina nearly ran into her. Water sloshed from the bucket and drenched them both. Looking up, she located the cause of Joy’s distress and the reason Regina’s slippers were saturated. Mr. Vistoire was sitting in the tub. And he was bare from the waist up. In fact, he might have been bare all over, but Regina didn’t dare look. She closed her eyes and prayed he wouldn’t notice her erratic breathing.

  “Mr. Vistoire.” She cleared her throat and tried to sound stern. “I thought I was clear you should remain seated.”

  “I am seated,” he replied with
an air of nonchalance.

  “I didn’t mean in the tub. What if you’d had another dizzy spell and fallen again? You should have waited for assistance.”

  “Pfft! If you are able-bodied enough to carry pails of water upstairs, I’m strong enough to walk from the bed to the tub.”

  The sound of dripping water reverberated in her ears, and all she could think on was the naked man across the room. As tempting as it was to satisfy her curiosity and steal a peek, she wouldn’t. That would make her vulgar, and ladies were never vulgar. She hadn’t considered the unfairness of being held to a higher standard than gentlemen until this very moment.

  “Merci, ladies.” His voice was too much like a caress and left her flustered. “Leave the buckets and take your rest. I can manage alone.”

  Regina plopped the bucket on the floor and more water splashed her slippers. “If you think we were planning to bathe you, you are as mad as a March hare, sir. You’d best be able to manage alone.” She turned on her heel, opened her eyes, and stormed from the room, her slippers squishing with each step.

  Of all the nerve, assuming she and Joy were going to wash him. Even though she had considered that he might require help, he was still a presumptuous cur.

  Six

  After soaking his sore muscles until the water had grown cold, Xavier climbed from the tub feeling refreshed. He scrubbed the droplets from his face and chest then wrapped the bath sheet around his waist. The dizziness had subsided, and his appetite was returning with a merciless vengeance. If his rumbling stomach were any indication, he could clean out the Darlingtons’ pantry and still be on the search for food.

  He wouldn’t, of course. The Darlington sisters had shown him much kindness this past week, and he wouldn’t repay them by being a poor guest. In fact, he’d outstayed his welcome. It was time to say farewell, so the women could reclaim their home, and Miss Darlington’s fears could be put to rest. He wouldn’t tell anyone about his stay at Wedmore House. He’d given his word. Besides, he wouldn’t be loitering in England long enough to speak with anyone. He’d decided during his bath that he would leave after dark tonight.