The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3)

by Lancaster, Mary

  Alvan gave no sign of being aware of it, although Almeria clearly was. Keeping a smile fixed on her face, her eyes too often strayed to Dunstan.

  “Is there really an understanding between Almeria and Lord Dunstan?” Charlotte asked Matthew as they walked a little away from the sketchers.

  “Lord, I don’t know,” Matthew said carelessly. “My mother would like to believe so, but between you and me, I doubt he’ll come up to scratch. He seems more interested in your Thomasina. Pity she’s already spoken for.”

  I wonder if that’s the attraction? Does Dunstan only want what he thinks his enemy has? Charlotte would think less of Dunstan, if that was the case.

  Of course, she could not march up and ask him. Instead, she bided her time until Alvan escorted Thomasina for a closer look at some aspect of her sketch. A quick glance around showed her the others poring over Henrietta’s and Almeria’s drawings and arguing over perspective.

  She moved a little closer to Lord Dunstan, who smiled at her as though pleased to have this opportunity.

  “Are you flirting with my sister?” she asked bluntly.

  Something very like amusement lit up his eyes. “Would you rather I flirted with you?”

  “No, I believe I would find one as distasteful as the other.”

  At least that startled him. “Distasteful! You don’t mince your words, do you, Miss Charlotte?”

  “Not very often, no.”

  He shifted position, sitting up straighter. “And why exactly am I so distasteful?” he mocked. “Because I am a mere viscount and not a duke? Because my fortune is modest rather than vulgarly massive?”

  She met his gaze with frank curiosity. “Why do you dislike the duke?”

  His eyebrows flew up. “Is that what he told you?”

  “No. He told me you were not friends.”

  Dunstan laughed. “He is still the master of understatement.”

  “Then you are enemies?”

  “Why do you care, Miss Charlotte? Do you know, you have a pair of very fine eyes?”

  “Thank you, I use them for seeing,” she said dryly. He paid compliments, flirted by default. Certainly, there was nothing remotely genuine in his remark, although her response did startle a quick laugh from him. “And I care because my sister is not part of your quarrel.”

  Dunstan considered her. “What has he told you about our… quarrel?”

  “Nothing,” Charlotte said impatiently.

  Dunstan curled his lip. “I suppose none of it reflects well on his grace, who was always far too puffed up with his own dignity.” He glanced over the ridge of the hill toward Alvan and Thomasina, who made so beautiful a couple that it hurt to look at them. “Very well. I’ll tell you.”

  Charlotte’s gaze flew back to him.

  “Strange as it may seem today, we were friends once,” Dunstan said flippantly. “So much so that when we came down from Oxford at the tender age of one-and twenty, I went to stay with him at Mooreton Hall. My visit coincided with that of his aunt and brother and sister… have you met his sister? Lady Cecily?”

  Charlotte shook her head.

  “Ravishing creature, and about as unlike Alvan as you could imagine: vivacious, full of fun and laughter. I confess I was immediately smitten and overjoyed to discover she felt the same way. Alvan was her guardian, now that he had attained his majority, and I was his friend. So, I asked for her hand. And was summarily dismissed as though I were the stable boy. Cecily’s tears moved him no more than friendship, and we were kept apart.”

  Charlotte, though feeling somewhat guilty, as though she were gossiping behind his back or eavesdropping, drew in her breath. “Did you discover why he did not favor your suit?”

  Dunstan smiled lazily. “The same reason you would not. I had not yet even inherited my title and my expectations were not large enough.”

  “Even so, that must have been what, seven or eight years ago? Could you not forgive him now?”

  Dunstan shrugged. “If I could, he most certainly does not forgive me my revenge.”

  Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but she asked anyway. “What did you do?”

  “It so happens I had a pretty cousin, young and full of fun, something the same kind of fun as Cecily, in fact. She was already betrothed and within a few weeks of her wedding. I sought her help in tricking Alvan. She made up to him, until he was eating out of her hand. She even agreed to run away with him, until I put a stop to it when he had his ladder up against the wall. Utterly humiliating for him, especially when my cousin revealed the jest. And that, my dear Miss Charlotte, is what he cannot forgive. He does not like the tables to be turned, to receive his own nasty medicine.”

  Charlotte wasn’t sure she believed him. The cool duke so overcome with passion that he climbed a ladder to steal away his love? And yet, he was adventurous by nature. He had gone after the intruders at the Hart and taken them on without a thought to his dignity or safety. He had wanted to be a soldier…

  “Interesting,” she said noncommittally.

  Dunstan gave a wry smile, but clearly changed his mind about his response when he caught sight of Alvan and Thomasina returning. “Ah, here he comes to preserve his other ladies from the Dunstan threat,” he mocked.

  “I see no threat,” Charlotte retorted at once. “Except to your own honor.” She moved away at once, choosing to stand and walk off by herself. Only then did she remember all the things she hadn’t asked him, about the Hart and Mr. Cornell. Oh well, next time…

  After a moment, Matthew Lacey joined her, and when she glanced up to speak to him, she caught sight, rather alarmingly, of the duke easing himself down on the blanket beside Dunstan. “Oh dear…”

  Chapter Nine

  “Good God,” Dunstan drawled when Alvan sat beside him. “Can it be my turn for your grace’s favor?”

  “I would seriously doubt it. Tell me, have you heard from Cornell?”

  Dunstan’s eyes widened fractionally, the only sign of surprise he revealed. “What is it to you?” he asked rudely.

  “Less than to you, I imagine, since I barely know the man. Are you still expecting him here?”

  “In the absence of word to the contrary.”

  “Then you have no idea where he is?”

  “He is not obliged to inform me of his movements,” Dunstan said impatiently—too impatiently. Quite clearly, he did not wish to discuss it. “He must apologize to the Laceys for his own rudeness.”

  Alvan searched the hostile face of the man who had once been his friend and knew he’d learn nothing directly. But Dunstan was hiding more than overt enmity.

  “What did you think of the Hart?” Alvan asked without warning.

  Dunstan blinked. “What heart?”

  “The Hart Inn near Finsborough. You stayed there on Sunday night.”

  Dunstan stared at him. “Flattered as I am by your interest in my movements, I have never stayed at the Hart Inn in my life. I stayed at Seldon Manor with the Laceys on Sunday night. What are you up to, Alvan?”

  Alvan frowned, some understanding at least beginning to dawn. “I’m not sure yet. But I think you should do all in your power to find Cornell.”

  Dunstan’s smile was unpleasant and fixed. “I am.” He stood and walked away to examine the ladies’ sketches.

  *

  “What did you discover?” Charlotte asked, falling into step beside him as the whole party walked off their luncheon. Thomasina was walking ahead with Lord Dunstan, and Mrs. Lacey had just swept Almeria from Alvan’s side as though she wished her to catch up with the elusive viscount.

  Alvan slowed so that he would not be overheard by Matthew and Henrietta who were walking just in front. “That he never stayed at the Hart.”

  Charlotte frowned. “But he did. I saw his name and the mark that showed he had arrived. He must be lying, but why would he do that?”

  “I don’t think he is. I think it was Cornell, amusing himself by throwing around Dunstan’s name and ti
tle.”

  Her eyes widened. “Would a gentleman really do something like that? I suppose he might have thought it would get him better service? Or perhaps he has them send on the bill and Dunstan’s man pays without realizing. He doesn’t sound a very pleasant sort of man… if it’s true. But I suppose we should try and find him anyhow.”

  She delighted him. “I suppose we should,” he said gravely.

  The twinkle in her eye acknowledged his amusement, but she said at once, “What do you think happened to him?”

  “I’m not sure. He might have joined Villin’s family in pursuing the gang. Perhaps they had robbed him in passing.”

  “What if they killed him?” she asked uneasily.

  “Then they must pay. And his family must know.”

  “That isn’t quite so much fun,” she said after a moment.

  “No,” he said gently. “It’s possible our mystery has taken a nasty turn. What did you learn from Dunstan?”

  “That he hasn’t forgiven you for slighting him or ruining his life,” she said unexpectedly. “I’m not sure which and doubt he knows himself.”

  Despite his discomfort over the past being raked up, he found himself regarding her with some respect. “You are uncannily perceptive.”

  Ahead, Matthew Lacey had paused to let them catch up and then as they turned back toward the carriages, everyone moved in a complicated dance that left him escorting Mrs. Lacey and Henrietta. And Thomasina still walked beside Lord Dunstan.

  Before they climbed into the carriages to return home, they all examined the ladies’ sketches and pronounced them most accomplished.

  “Where’s yours, Miss Charlotte?” Matthew demanded.

  “Oh, I cannot draw to save my life,” Charlotte said lightly. “But I rather like Almeria’s.”

  “Cannot draw?” Alvan murmured as she walked with him to the carriage. “Or is this another accomplishment, like music, that must not outshine your sisters’?”

  She flushed. “No. I spent a lot of time on it, too, but I had no aptitude and discovered I preferred reading. Which, of course, would be an utter disadvantage to a young lady who has any intentions of entering the marriage mart.”

  He handed her into the carriage. “Perhaps there is a separate stall for the bookish.”

  It surprised a laugh out of her, which raised his threateningly low spirits. On the carriage ride back to Audley Park, the young ladies chattered among themselves in a stream of comment and banter that flowed over him in a soothing kind of way, from which he was distracted by only two things: first, when he noticed how often Lord Dunstan’s name fell from Thomasina’s lips; and then, when he moved to stretch his legs and his thigh brushed against Charlotte’s knee.

  A wave of awareness shook him, intensifying when he heard her sudden intake of breath. They both moved apart at once, and he murmured an apology, but the feeling lingered in him, at once secretly arousing and wildly inappropriate. He supposed it was the unexpectedness and tried quite hard to think of something else.

  *

  That brief, accidental touch bothered Charlotte, too. It seemed to have imprinted upon her skin and left her tingling. Worse, it would not go away, and only increased when his long, strong fingers clasped hers to hand her down from the carriage.

  This was silly. For her, physical attraction had never been more than a vague, pleasurable tug of awareness inspired by a handsome face or a smile. From silly, girlish crushes on utterly unsuitable people, it had become, as she entered adulthood, something unimportant that barely disturbed her thoughts.

  But his touch in the carriage forced her to remember she had felt that attraction in the inn when she had first met him. She had liked the way he looked, been intrigued by his apparent duality of character as well as by the fugitive smile in his eyes that so rarely touched his lips. And that moment in the darkness, when he had seized her against the wall, wresting the candlestick from her grasp, his large person so close and overwhelming… and their brief, somewhat improper drink together in the taproom.

  Now, knowing him a little better, she was becoming obsessed with knowing more. Why else would she have quizzed Lord Dunstan about him instead of about the Hart?

  In truth, she liked the enigmatic duke. She liked him too much. The sudden longing to press herself against him and feel his arms around her appalled her. Not just because such attraction would make her life so much more difficult, but because it showed a thoroughly reprehensible disloyalty to her sister who was going to marry him.

  Using Spring’s welcome to hide her discomfort, she slipped hastily away to her bedchamber where she threw off her old cloak and bonnet and stared at herself in the glass. Carelessly pinned dark brown hair. Overly thick dark eyebrows and inquisitive eyes. Pale skin with a few too many lines around the eyes for her twenty years of age, legacies of her years of pain and discomfort. And that was before she considered her stammer. He was kind to her, but what was there to like beyond a shared humor? And even that she was unsure of.

  I should not care. I should not. Clasping her hands together, she dug her nails into her skin until she realized it did not matter. A moment of awareness was nothing. Certainly, it changed nothing. With relief, she set about washing and changing for dinner, and then, with more important aspects of the expedition on her mind, went to visit Thomasina.

  Her sister was all smiles as she admired the maid’s handywork in the glass. “Perfect,” she approved. “Now, you’d better run to my mother or I shall be in trouble for hogging you to myself! What is it, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you flirting with Lord Dunstan?” she asked bluntly.

  Thomasina flushed. “Don’t be so vulgar, Charlie. I am not flirting with anyone.” She stretched out her arm to admire the bracelet which was one of their mother’s last remaining pieces of decent jewelry. “Lord Dunstan made me laugh. Alvan barely smiles.”

  “He does with his eyes if you would look.”

  Thomasina dropped her hand into her lap and met Charlotte’s gaze in the glass. “Is that what you discovered in your walk together this morning?”

  Charlotte’s lips fell apart. “Why no, it’s something I observed from the… beginning. He is not humorless. Tommie, you weren’t flirting from stupid, misplaced jealousy, were you?”

  Thomasina frowned. “Stop being ridiculous, Charlie. I was not flirting at all.” She did not add that she had no reason to be jealous of Charlotte. They both knew it. “But if you monopolize the duke, he will have no time to offer for me, will he? Shall we go down?”

  Mortified, Charlotte followed her without a word.

  She had never seen her growing friendship with the duke from this point of view, had merely enjoyed his company, the rare feeling of being understood and the pleasure of learning about a man who fascinated her. If she had thought anything before today, it was that Thomasina was lucky. And now, now she felt… something.

  And she, the unmarriageable, sensible, designated helper, was selfishly hindering her sister and therefore her family. Or was seen by Thomasina to be. Either way, she wanted to slink back to her bedchamber and hide.

  Instead, she went down to dinner with her family, and made sure to stay in the background, saying little and avoiding as much direct contact with the duke as possible.

  *

  The following evening was the Laceys’ party. Charlotte did her best to cry off, but her mother said it was too late now as she was already promised.

  It had not been difficult to avoid the duke during the day, for it seemed he had gone off to Finsborough alone. Charlotte had trouble squashing her curiosity in case his trip was to do with the missing Mr. Cornell and the elusive den of thieves. But since he came back to Audley Park only just in time to change for an early dinner before setting off for Seldon Manor, she had little chance to ask.

  They travelled in two coaches, the first containing Lady Overton, Thomasina, and the duke. The second carried Lord Overton, Henrietta, and Charlotte.

>   “What is the matter, Papa?” Charlotte asked after ten minutes of watching her father’s distant eyes and anxious frown.

  His frown cleared at once. “Why, nothing, nothing at all,” he assured her. “I was just beginning to wonder if your mother and I misunderstood. Now I’m not so sure Alvan ever had any intention of offering for your sister.”

  “Of course he has,” Henrietta said bracingly. “Why else would he have come?”

  “Henrie’s right, Papa,” Charlotte agreed, although her stomach was churning. “It’s not as if he was ever your close friend, was he? He must have come because of Thomasina.”

  “Yes, and if he’s looked her over and found her wanting, I shall be annoyed! To put it no more strongly.”

  Charlotte was about to deny Alvan was so arrogant or so crass, but in fact, she did not know that. The whole thing was so much of a business transaction that she could acquit neither the duke nor her father. But it was Thomasina who was being hurt.

  “I had begun to think our troubles were over,” Papa said gloomily. He stared out of the window and grimaced. “But you know, I could swear he is comfortable with us.”

  “I suspect he is,” Charlotte said after a moment. “And I’m sure he’ll speak before he leaves us…”

  Despite Mrs. Lacey’s description of the event as an impromptu little party, she was clearly doing all she could to make it the neighborhood’s most famous social gathering of the year. The drive and the front of the house were lit up most extravagantly for the array of vehicles depositing the Laceys’ guests.

  “They must have people staying,” Henrietta observed in great excitement as she peered out of the window. “Perhaps even from London! This is wonderful!”

  In contrast, Charlotte, who much preferred smaller parties where she knew everyone, felt her heart sink. She suspected Mrs. Lacey had not been frank with them, and there was nothing impromptu about this party at all. It had been deliberately designed to secure the presence of the Duke of Alvan who rarely attended London parties and was therefore a great feather in her cap. So, if Dunstan didn’t offer for Almeria, no doubt someone just as good in the standing of the world would.