The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3)

by Lancaster, Mary

  Her eyes widened. “You’re not planning on taking all of them on alone, are you? You cannot be that mad!”

  “Of course not,” he said coolly, although the tension in his whole body betrayed his turmoil. “I’m only observing until Lacey’s men get here, or the soldiers or both. I just hope they can find us…”

  In greater silence now, they moved on until they came to a track leading up to some farm buildings, and again Charlotte saw the bobbing lights. She touched Alvan’s hand and he nodded.

  His breath tickled her ear, making her shiver. “I think they’re planning to hide out here for the night. They’re taking the horses into the barn.” He pushed the reins into her hands, clearly preparing to dismount.

  But Charlotte stayed him with one hand on his knee. “Wait. The barn will surely bolt from the outside. Couldn’t we just lock them in?”

  Laughter hissed through his teeth. His eyes glittered. “Is anything ever so simple?”

  “Let’s see.” Realizing her hand still rested on his warm knee, she withdrew it hastily.

  “You can’t come with me,” he warned.

  “I think he’ll wait for us,” she said, stroking the horse’s neck. “He’s sniffing the air as if he knows his friends are in the barn. Don’t worry about me. I’ll hide or run for help, whichever is required.”

  “I’ve a feeling your father will skin me alive for this,” he murmured, dismounting. “Worse, he’ll be quite right.” Before she could slide down herself, he lifted her by the waist and set her down beside him before wrapping the reins around a branch of the hedge. It wouldn’t hold the powerful stallion for long if he chose to run, but Charlotte didn’t believe he would, not while he could crop the hedge and smell his friends close by.

  It was silly, but she didn’t much care about the horse while her hand was lost in the duke’s large one and they were creeping up the track toward the barn, using nearby trees and bushes for cover.

  However, the doors to the barn stood wide open. Someone was bound to see her and Alvan coming before they even got there. They would have no chance to slam the doors shut and bar them with the thick plank currently propped up against one of them.

  Crouched behind an unruly rose bush, Charlotte edged nearer the duke and whispered, “We could just wait for them to close the doors, then bar them in. Or… there’s a window at the far end. I can creep round the long way and attract their attention there, while you rush up unseen and bar the doors.”

  “It might give us an extra second or two,” he allowed doubtfully. “And frankly, we’re both too cold to wait around.”

  “Only I suppose the people at the farmhouse might let them out again,” she said, frowning with dissatisfaction.

  “They might. But more than likely, they’re merely bribed not to hear anything at all.”

  “Do you think?” she asked eagerly.

  “I hope,” he said. “As soon as it’s done, you run straight back to the horse, whether I succeed or not, and ride like the wind back to Seldon.”

  “I promise,” she whispered, for she knew she would need help if he had to be rescued. “They won’t hurt you, will they?”

  His lip quirked. “I’m worth more of a ransom than Cornell, surely.” Unexpectedly, his head dipped and he pressed his lips to hers. “Go then, and take care.”

  Flabbergasted by the kiss, however brief, she all but stumbled on her way. Her poor dress tore on thorns as she scrambled through the undergrowth as silently as she could, listening to the hum of voices inside. They sounded a little subdued, probably because the theft hadn’t gone as planned. They had lost several of their number along with at least some of their collected plunder.

  The window was a little higher than she had imagined from the distance, so she had to climb up on a dead tree trunk and lean over, sticking her head through the tiny, unglazed window. Inside, by the light of several lanterns, she could see the men, the horses, and a large bag. The horses were being given hay, no doubt to keep them contented and quiet.

  Charlotte coughed. “Good evening,” she said politely.

  Some spun around to see where the voice came from. All gawped at her.

  “Might I fetch you anything?” she asked. From the corner of her eye she could see Alvan loping up to the doors. “Beer, supper, warm blankets?”

  “Who the devil are you?” one of them demanded.

  “Rude,” Charlotte said, and stuck out her tongue, just as Alvan slammed the first door. She jumped down as the second thudded into place, and scrambled along the side of the barn, listening to the cursing of the men inside. They were hurling themselves at the doors, making it hard for Alvan to ram the plank completely home. She threw herself against the door and the bar fell into place.

  Alvan seized her hand, and they ran back down the track together. Laughter caught at Charlotte’s breath. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such fun.

  The stallion was beginning to get restive, tugging to be free of the hedge. Alvan caught the reins, soothing him with a few soft words and a stroke on his nose, before he turned and boosted Charlotte into the saddle. In no time, he had vaulted up behind her and they were trotting down the lane back toward the crossroads.

  Here, they encountered a troop of soldiers who had no idea which way to go to find their quarry. Most of them clearly thought it was a waste of time. One or two were suspicious of Alvan, hatless and in his shirt sleeves, until he opened his mouth and directed them to the barn. Charlotte wondered if one was born with that kind of unmistakable, aristocratic hauteur, or if he’d learned it. Either way, it was effective, because their officer bowed and led his men along the lane, leaving Alvan and Charlotte free to ride back over the hill to the manor.

  Alvan slowed the horse to a walk, letting him carry them up the gentle rise at his own pace.

  “What a very satisfying night’s work,” Charlotte remarked.

  “I expect you’re glad now that you came to the party.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Oh, I am! Look at what I would have missed if I’d stayed tamely at home. Or even at the manor with Mama. Adventures with your grace are always such fun.”

  “Well, if we are to have any more, I feel you should stop ‘your gracing’ me and use my name.”

  “I don’t know your name,” she said in surprise.

  “Of course you do. You used it many times.”

  Realization dawned. “Alexander?” she hazarded, smiling.

  He inclined his head.

  “You never told us it was your surname,” she recalled. “It was I who made the assumption, quite wrongly as it turned out. But you didn’t seem very much like you’d been described to me.”

  “In what way?”

  “I heard you were cold and aloof, and you aren’t in the slightest.”

  “I am. Just not with you.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  His lips quirked and his gaze dropped to her upturned face. “Because you make me warm.”

  She smiled uncertainly, unsure of the propriety of such a remark, but too fascinated by the movement of his lips to look away from them.

  “See,” he said huskily and bent toward her. His face blotted out the moon and her breath hitched. Then his mouth closed over hers, warm and firm, and everything inside her seemed to melt.

  She had never imagined a kiss like this, that went on and on, constantly moving and changing, parting her lips and coaxing her response. His tongue glided along her lip and inside her mouth, hot, invasive, and entirely wonderful.

  The horse walked on, moving under her while the cool night air stirred her hair. Butterflies danced in her stomach, spreading heat lower, and still the kiss went on. She never wanted it to end.

  When he finally raised his head, she was clutching his waistcoat in one fist while her other palm clung to his rough cheek.

  “And that,” he whispered, “is the sweetest adventure of all. Come, I need to get you back to your parents before I forget completely that I’m a gentleman.�
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  Tightening the loosened reins, he held the horse in check for a moment, his gaze roving over her. Even in the indifferent moonlight, she must have looked tousled, torn and utterly unladylike.

  He said ruefully, “I can’t take you back to the manor like this. The house will still be full of guests unable to go home because their horses have been stolen.”

  “And I look like a hoyden,” she agreed. “Let me down and I’ll walk home.”

  “Don’t be a ninny. Guide me to the short cuts.”

  Secretly, she was glad to have this time alone with him extended. Some strange, warm cocoon of happiness seemed to have formed around them, isolating them from the rest of the world. She knew it would end. She just wanted to make the most of it. They rode fast for most of the way, so comfortable silences mixed with the soft, bantering conversation of friends. And all the time, Charlotte was intoxicatingly aware that she had never before had a friend like this, who understood her remarks as intuitively as she grasped the humor in his.

  Although not quite sure why he had kissed her, she couldn’t be sorry he had. That, too, was part of their secret adventure, not the real world.

  And so, she let her head fall against his chest, breathing in the earthy, male scent of him and guided him across country to Audley Park. There, before they emerged from the wood, he tilted up her chin and kissed her again, his big hand cupping her face. Then, when she was breathless and trembling for no reason she could understand, he dismounted and led the horse at a sedate walk up to the house.

  Before they got there, Gerald threw open the door, shouting for lanterns. “Miss Charlotte!” he exclaimed. “What in God’s name…?”

  “Don’t make a fuss, Gerald, I am quite well,” she said cheerfully, while Alvan lifted her down. “His grace has brought me home early because there has been some trouble over at the manor and many of the horses were stolen or released. Will you take his grace round to the stables and have the grooms help him to take over whatever horses they can?”

  She stepped over the door. It seemed symbolic, the end of their adventure, the return to the real world. She felt suddenly shy as she took off Alvan’s coat and handed it back to him. “Thank you. You must be freezing.”

  His lips quirked into one of his rare smiles. “No. I’m still warm. Good night, Miss Charlotte.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Alvan’s return to the manor did not cause quite the stir he had imagined, largely because Frank Cornell had miraculously appeared and was now the center of attention in the drawing room as he spun the tale of his capture and release, and the debt he owed his friend Dunstan.

  For an instant, Dunstan glanced up and met his gaze. He looked curiously defiant, perhaps because he knew in his heart that Cornell was not telling the whole truth. Or because he had done something else he knew was wrong. If it concerned the Overtons… Alvan took an impulsive step toward him before Lacey cried, “Your grace! What news?”

  “I think the soldiers have the culprits,” Alvan said casually, “along with the stolen horses and, I hope, the rest of the items they took from the house. My lord,” he added to Overton who was striding toward him somewhat grimly, “I took the liberty of bringing your horses here to enable as many people as possible to go home. I don’t know when or how the stolen animals will be returned.”

  “And my daughter?” Overton murmured so quietly that it didn’t sound anything like the demand Alvan understood it to be.

  “I took her home, sir, quite unharmed. She was… eager to see what happened to the robbers, since we connected them to what happened at the Hart last week.”

  Overton’s shoulders sagged, the only sign of relief he revealed. He must have made an excellent diplomat. And card player.

  “Excuse me.” Alvan walked deliberately across to the group surrounding Frank Cornell. Cornell was a smoothly handsome man of medium height and stocky build. Under normal circumstances, he was always dressed impeccably in the first stare of fashion, although tonight, he wore somewhat grubby day clothes. Clearly, he had washed his hands and face and borrowed a clean cravat. For the rest, he seemed to be recovering from his adventure with gentlemanly ease.

  As Alvan approached, the other guests parted for him, and Cornell fell silent.

  “Why, your grace,” Dunstan mocked. “Are you the hero of the hour? Did you singlehandedly fight to the death the gang of ruthless thieves who captured Cornell and caused such outrageous havoc across the county?”

  “No,” Alvan replied. “I merely shut them in a barn. Glad to see you alive, Cornell, and no worse for your adventures.”

  “Not much worse,” Cornell replied bravely.

  “Did they let you go in the end? Or did you escape?” Alvan asked.

  “A little of both. They’d got the ransom money Dunstan paid them, so they relaxed their vigilance. I still think they meant to kill me, so I hobbled off along the road with my hands still tied.” He rubbed his wrists somewhat theatrically. They did show angry red rings where rope had cut into his flesh, though to Alvan’s critical eye, the weals looked too healed to have been recently afflicted. He thought, cynically, if anyone searched his coat, they would find at least some of the money Dunstan had left for his captors. But that was between Dunstan and Cornell.

  *

  Alvan accompanied Overton back to Audley Park on horseback, while the family squashed into one carriage, so there was little opportunity for private conversation. Thomasina was stony-faced as he handed her into the carriage, no doubt through fatigue, although Henrietta regarded him with more than usual awe.

  As they entered the house, Charlotte ran downstairs to meet them. Alvan’s heart twisted in his breast. She had changed from the torn evening gown into her old day dress and repined her hair. But whatever she wore, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It shone from inside her.

  He lurked in the shadows of the hall, as her mother embraced and scolded her. “What were you thinking of, you hoyden? You could have been hurt or murdered or just fallen off the wretched horse!”

  Thomasina stalked past her without a word and climbed the stairs. The other ladies followed, Lady Overton still scolding, Charlotte apologizing, and Henrietta eagerly questioning.

  Lord Overton said low, “I imagine she made it difficult for you to refuse to take her.”

  “Yes, but I should still not have done so. I’m sorry, I was carried away by the moment and behaved thoughtlessly.”

  “I don’t believe there is any harm done,” Overton said with a shade of anxiety. “There is no badness in her character. She is merely so much in the habit of regarding herself as unmarriageable that she forgets she is too young to do exactly as she likes.”

  Alvan blinked. He had fully—and rightly—expected to be blamed for putting Charlotte’s reputation as well as her safety at risk. But her father was attributing it all to his daughter.

  “Only Lacey, Matthew, and Dunstan saw what happened,” Overton said. “The Laceys are friends and discreet. Dunstan…” He tailed off, and Alvan lifted one eyebrow. Overton sighed. “Dunstan may have made things a little difficult for you with Thomasina. Now, I see the lie of the land there and having the privilege of knowing you, I discount entirely what he said.”

  Alvan’s eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”

  “He implied that you were abducting Charlotte,” Overton said apologetically, “and that you had done such a thing before to a lady of quality. Thomasina seemed shocked. I had a word with him, asking for his discretion as a gentleman over what he witnessed. But I don’t know the man. Will he talk about this?”

  Alvan shrugged tiredly. “I doubt it. As you’ll have gathered, we are not friends. I imagine his aim was to sow seeds of discord between your family and me, not to ruin an innocent lady.”

  “The damnable thing is, when a lady is ruined, it affects her entire family.”

  “I believe you have no cause to worry on that head,” Alvan said.

  Overton patted his arm and began to w
alk toward the stairs. “Good, good. Now, I am for bed. That was a far more exhausting evening than I had planned, and it must have been considerably more so for you!”

  *

  Thomasina’s stony silence lasted all the way up to her bedchamber, where she made to shut the door in Charlotte’s face. Only the sight of their mother’s slightly shocked expression made her release the door and let Charlotte in, while their mother hauled Henrietta away.

  “What is the matter with you?” Charlotte demanded, closing the door and leaning on it.

  “The matter with me? You are stealing him from me every available opportunity!”

  “Stealing him?” Genuinely startled, Charlotte stared at her. “Tommie, I couldn’t steal anyone from you if I wanted to, which I don’t! How could I?”

  Thomasina turned away from her. “You don’t have to want him for yourself. All you need to do is spoil my chances, behaving like a hoyden, ruining yourself.”

  Bizarrely, seeing the situation through Thomasina’s eyes shocked her into final understanding. You don’t have to want him for yourself…

  I do. Oh God help me, I do…

  Stricken, she sank onto Thomasina’s bed.

  “If you are ruined,” Thomasina went on, lashing with her tongue, “what becomes of me? Of Henrietta? Of the whole family? Your impulses are stupid and selfish, to call them no worse. And sometimes, I do call them worse, Charlie, I do!”

  All the blood seemed to have drained from Charlotte’s face, leaving her shaken and dizzy. “No, no, that can’t be right,” she said, dragging a distracted hand through her newly pinned hair. “No one saw me.”

  “He saw you. God knows what he thinks of us all now. But even if he is merely amused by your antics, people did see you, including Lord Dunstan.”

  “But that’s silly, no one would believe anything untoward occurred.”

  Kisses. Kisses from the man who should be marrying her sister. They were untoward. Not mere friendship and most certainly not sisterly. What had she been thinking of?

  “Oh yes, they would,” Thomasina said grimly. “Because he has a past history of abduction! It is only overlooked because he is the Duke of Alvan. Anyone else would have been ostracized years ago.”