Sticking his hands in his breeches’ pockets, he went into the room. This was the twin of the one across the hall, except this one contained a desk and a chair. Nothing else. Not yet. “If you cannot live here with me, I have another proposal to make.”
He was making a complete mull of this. He needed to regroup, but if he did, he’d lose his chance. He had begun with his brother. He should continue. “Val is married and happy now. He doesn’t need me any longer. For a time, we were inseparable, but we have always known we would separate. Val asked me to make my home with him and Charlotte. The thought of that melancholy fate drove me to think, really think. What did I like? What did I want?”
He shrugged. “I knew immediately. I love working on the insurance business with Val and Ivan. That gave me the greatest satisfaction I have known. For once, I was useful, and I could make myself an income.” He flashed a smile. “A very good one, actually. Society has long lost its appeal, if it ever had any in the first place. I do not want a wife, and I don’t need to curry favor with anyone. I am perfectly happy attending one ball a week in the season, not three a night.”
Andrew leaned against the wall and folded his arms. Darius could tell nothing from his expression.
“Go on.”
“My father suggested that I take a seat in Parliament. I thought it over, and while I’m not dismissing the idea, I want to develop the company first.” He waved his hand. “This house is not in the most fashionable part of London, but it is respectable and close enough to Mayfair.” He nodded out the window. “With Bedford House looming across the square, it is not devoid of fashionable life. When I told my parents I was buying this house and I intended to live in it, my mother told me to look for somewhere nearer to the Park. But then it would not be close to the Inns of Court, would it?”
“Why would you want that?”
“It’s where your chambers are situated. It’s where you work.”
“Only a small part of it.”
“Look.” He went to the desk and opened the top drawer, plucking out one of the two pieces of paper that lay within. He handed it to Andrew. “This is from Miss Childers. She asked me to pass it on to you.”
Andrew strode forward and took the paper. Stony-faced, he read it. Darius watched him, waiting in tense silence.
Andrew looked up. “It’s a formal offer of employment.”
Darius nodded. “I swear her decision had nothing to do with me. She has consolidated her plans. That is all, and she definitely wants you. She is willing to pay you an amount in order to ensure your attendance on her cases.”
“It sounds rackety to me.”
Darius allowed himself a small smile. “She’s wealthy enough to indulge herself.” Now for the difficult part. He took out the second paper. “This is something else.” He wished he’d had more than one chair put in here now.
“This is an offer for you from the company of which I hold a third. It’s an offer of partnership.” As Andrew opened his mouth, Darius continued hurriedly. “No, it’s not charity, and it isn’t a gift. You are worthy of this, Andrew. We have seen you at work, and we want you, all three of us. We are expanding at an almost frightening rate, and we need new people. We need managers and people who can devote more time to the enterprise. All three of us are determined that what started as a way of entertaining ourselves, and—” He broke off sharply before recommencing. “I have to tell you something. Ivan and I opened this partly to stop Val from wasting so much money on the tables. What started as a pastime was rapidly becoming an obsession. We were concerned, and decided to nip it in the bud. As we thought, working out risk and balancing our portfolio engrossed him. In fact, we prospered.”
He crossed the room and took Andrew’s elbows, holding on while he gazed into his lover’s face. “We truly need someone to help us, and with your legal expertise you are perfect. If I had not fallen in love with you, I would have considered you anyway. If we are to cope with the rapid expansion, we need someone ready to sit in the meetings, make decisions, and carry through the legal decisions.”
Andrew licked his lips. “Shipping insurance?”
“Mainly, yes. Together with some small investments in cargoes.”
“Slaves?” He snapped the word.
Darius shook his head. “That trade does not sit well with any of us, so we agreed to avoid it, if we can.”
Andrew’s mouth twisted in a smile. “Some ladies in the City are forming a society. They have printed scarves and fans.”
“Maybe we should buy some.”
Hearing “we” cheered Darius enormously. Andrew was at least thinking about his proposition. He tightened his grip. “Andrew, I can’t ask you to marry me. If I could, I would do that. I cannot imagine anyone else in my life, anyone but you. I don’t want our affair to become casual, with us fitting the other into our lives when we can, so I set about making it possible. We can live here and make our work here. We can be a couple. My family will help to shelter us, but I no longer ask for that. I want to create my own fortifications. I want to add to the Emperors’ strengths, not detract from them. But most of all, I love you. I never want us to be apart.”
Andrew leaned forward, his lips opening as he reached out. Darius let his hands slide from Andrew’s elbows, to grip his waist and pull him in.
Just before their lips met, Andrew said, “I love you too. You should have started with that.”
Meet the Author
Lynne Connolly was born in Leicester, England, and lived in her family’s cobbler’s shop with her parents and sister. She loves all periods of history, but her favorites are the Tudor and Georgian eras. She loves doing research and creating a credible story with people who lived in past ages. In addition to her Emperors of London series and The Shaws series, she writes several historical, contemporary and paranormal romance series.
Visit her on the web at lynneconnolly.com, read her blog at lynneconnolly.blogspot.co.uk, find her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter @lynneconnolly.
Fearless
Discover where The Shaws began …
Scandal is his chosen path—until this infamous Shaw surrenders to love …
When Lady Charlotte Engles receives an offer of marriage from an eligible suitor, she’s finally ready to let go of her long-held hope that her engagement to Lord Valentinian Shaw will result in marriage. For despite the betrothal their families made between them, Val shows no interest in leaving his reckless life behind in favor of one with Charlotte. But when her plea to end their arrangement ends in a heated embrace, suddenly Val seems reluctant to let her go …
The last thing Val wants is a wife, despite how desirous his lovely bride-to-be has become. But when he discovers sweet Charlotte is planning to marry a dastardly man, he feels duty bound to keep her safe, even if that means making good on his marriage pledge. Then Charlotte is taken hostage by her dangerous suitor and suddenly Val is ready to risk everything for the woman who has won his heart …
Chapter 1
Charlotte spared her betrothed a glance but took care not to linger. People might notice her looking. Val was talking animatedly to a group of friends, standing at the rear of the garden. As if he felt her regard, he turned his attention to her and returned her look, the corner of his mouth tilting so slightly she wasn’t sure she’d seen it.
Then he returned his attention to his friends.
Of course he did, because that was what he always did. Indeed, why should he not? They might be affianced, but their attachment was not a romantic one. At least, it was not supposed to be.
Lord Valentinian Shaw and Lady Charlotte Engles had entered into an arranged marriage, brokered by their parents. What was so unusual about that?
Only the secret Charlotte held closely to her heart. Fortunately she had practiced at hiding her emotions, so only she knew the truth.
Charlotte gave the lady chatting to her a broad smile, not at all sure what she was talking about. Lady Duckworth had the proud reputation of boring for E
ngland, as Val had said once, but she meant well. Fortunately, all she required was an audience. Responses were optional.
She shuffled her toe in the gravel but kept the smile in place, listening to Lady Duckworth’s conversation long enough to agree with her proposition that all satirical poets should be forced to debate their absurd propositions. Then she returned to her private thoughts.
She should be grateful for the brilliant match her father had contrived. People kept telling her, therefore it must be true. When Val had asked her to marry him, he’d done it formally, with a kiss on the back of her hand when she duly accepted. The betrothal was perfectly conventional. Nobody had asked for Charlotte’s opinion. If they had, she might have begged for him. She had fallen deeply in love with her betrothed.
Her guilty secret accompanied her everywhere. She had agreed to the proposal as a way of getting away from her home, a way her father had agreed upon, but once she’d met Val, her opinions had changed. She wanted Lord Valentinian Shaw so badly, she’d even become his respectable companion while he roistered and scandalized society. She had continued with the arrangement as a way of providing a new home for herself and her sister, but after an inordinately long betrothal, she was forced to think again. She had to get away from her father’s house and provide a place for herself and her younger sister.
A masculine voice broke into her thoughts. “Lady Charlotte.”
She tilted her head, which would have meant she was staring directly into the sun, but someone was shielding her from it. The sun blazed on either side of him, leaving the man in darkness, as if he were a visitor from the heavens.
After bowing over Lady Duckworth’s hand, the man begged her to grant him the favor of allowing him a few moments of her company.
Charming, elegant and smooth, Lord Kellett had shown her flattering attention of late, but Charlotte found him less daunting, more approachable than her future husband. He listened to her conversation, he sought her company at balls, and if she had not been spoken for, she would have given him even more attention. However, he had never stepped over the rules of propriety. He behaved to her like a friend, as he was doing now.
Having seen Lady Duckworth to another group of people she could bore, Lord Kellett offered his arm. Charlotte took it with a smile.
“You should smile more often,” he said. “It suits you.” He led her on a gentle stroll across the width of the terrace and then down the stairs at the end. The stone staircase led to the main part of the garden.
Rosebushes massed in pleasing abundance, trained well away from the paths. The fragrance surrounded them, perhaps a little too sweet for Charlotte’s taste, but the effect was heavenly. “Whoever the gardener is, he deserves a medal for pruning the bushes so carefully.”
“Hmm?”
Lord Kellett didn’t sound interested, but Charlotte plowed on. “Sometimes negotiating a rose garden is more like fighting through a thicket.”
He frowned, but gave her no response.
Charlotte sighed. “Never mind.”
“You have a droll sense of humor, my lady,” he said then, and laughed.
She hadn’t meant her comment humorously. The gardener really had considered the width of ladies’ hoops and taken the full skirts of a gentleman’s coat into consideration too. The thorns did not discommode her wide skirts at all.
“Thank you.” She consoled herself with the knowledge that he meant well.
They moved along the path that led to the next part of the garden, still well in view of the house. Her aunt, who acted as her chaperone, was somewhere indoors, so Charlotte had relative freedom. One would have thought that at her age her father would have allowed her more discretion, but they did not. Not many people had a father like hers, though. They should thank heaven every day for that.
Charlotte could relax and allow his lordship to take her for a little perambulation around the lovely gardens attached to this equally gracious London house.
The house belonged to her betrothed’s family, and if she married him, she would live here, or Val might even lease an establishment of their own. The Shaws were a large family, sprawling, noisy and somewhat uncontrolled—all things her father detested. But he had agreed to the betrothal, because few people ever denied the Shaws anything.
Frankly, the family of the Marquess of Strenshall, and the extended family known in society as the Emperors of London, unnerved Charlotte, but she could hide behind her proper mask and smile and nod. She was perfectly aware that people thought she was dull, but she had little choice. So she smiled and nodded, just like always as Lord Kellett asked her about her favorite pieces of music, and the uncomfortably warm spring weather.
Charlotte was tempted to tip her head back and hold her face up to the sun. However, that would dislodge her hat and draw attention to her. She refrained, as she always did, from succumbing to temptation.
“I find the Italian operas somewhat too dramatic for my taste,” she confessed.
“Indeed, ma’am? I must introduce you to the great Sodrendo. His tone is divine.”
“A good countertenor is a marvelous thing.” Not that Sodrendo was a great countertenor. He sounded as if he was imitating the pure tone of the greats. The passion for the high-toned male voice had led to much mutilation of young boys and a few men who had remained intact but could sing in the higher range. For Sodrendo’s sake, Charlotte prayed he hadn’t sacrificed his manhood for an inferior voice. However, she wouldn’t dream of saying that out loud.
“Indeed, sir. I will ask Lord Valentinian to escort me and my chaperone one night.”
“Now that,” he said softly, “is what I would particularly like to talk to you about.”
With a swift left turn, he rounded a hedge and kept going, taking her to a small building at the end of the path. Nobody could see them if they entered. Greatly daring, Charlotte allowed Lord Kellett to take her between the twisted columns into the cool space within.
He escorted her to one of the hard wooden benches lining the white-painted walls, and she sat, her smile fixed in place. He sat next to her, as close as he could get, gazing at her.
He glanced down and then back up at her face. A small crease marked his smooth forehead. “Lady Charlotte, I find you charming and a delightful companion.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was making a declaration. However, he could not intend that. “Thank you, sir. I confess, it is delightfully cool in here. How clever of you to find it.” She laid her fan on the seat next to her and folded her hands in her lap. “The garden is beautiful from this aspect.”
He barely spared the vista a glance. “I prefer the view from where I am sitting.”
“Sir—” She got no further.
“Madam, my lady…Charlotte. I have done my best to quell my feelings for you. But I can bear no more.”
He paused, seemingly at a loss for words, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. Although his words made her uncomfortable, Charlotte stayed to listen. “Lord Kellett…” She laid a gentle hand over his, which proved a mistake, because he captured it in both of his.
“Hervey, please call me Hervey, at least in private.”
She should not, but she’d do it to pacify him. “Hervey, then. You are aware I am betrothed?”
“Yes, and I am also aware that I am transgressing, not only with you, but with the hospitality of Lord Strenshall and his family.”
She nodded. Being in their house, he most certainly was.
“I cannot hold my emotions back any longer. Lady Charlotte, why do you allow Lord Valentinian to treat you so?”
Now it was her turn to frown. What on earth did he mean? “He treats me with respect.”
“I would not say so!” He spoke with such passion that she moved back. However, he did not let go of her hands. “He treats you with a great deal of carelessness. He is happy merely to have you in his sights, although he makes no move to further his connection with you.”
“We like one another well
enough, but we prefer not to live in one another’s pocket.” Wistfulness infused her. She would like to know what that felt like, to have a man devoted to her, one who could not wait to marry her. Val had enjoyed a number of mistresses. She had no idea if he had one now. The thought did not sit well with her, but she would have to endure many such once they married.
Her mother had tolerated many before her death, but her father kept his women carefully closeted. There was never any scandal. He never used a society lady and he paid off his mistresses with enough of an annuity to keep their mouths shut. Charlotte only knew because she’d heard her brother talking about it with a friend. “My father has to pay for his pleasures because of his proclivities,” George had said with a sigh. George sent abroad for that transgression, to tour Europe with his tutor. Not that it proved any punishment, because he was soon setting Versailles on its ear.
“You have been betrothed for an age,” Hervey gently pointed out.
As if she needed reminding.
“Two years,” she said, setting her jaw. In all that time Val had treated her more like one of his sisters than his betrothed, and he had never broached the subject of setting a date for their wedding.
“Will Lord Valentinian not come to the mark? Because if he will not, there are plenty of people who will.” Was he speaking to her as a friend? He was caressing her palm with his thumb, which she found distracting. She wasn’t at all sure she liked it. His gesture made her want to scratch her hand. “I haven’t noticed a preponderance of men flocking to my door.”
“You only need one. May I be frank, Charlotte?”
She allowed the use of her first name. Intrigued, she nodded.
“My dear, I have become very fond of you. More than fond, if truth be told.”
“We have only been acquainted for three months.”
“I only needed an hour.” His fervent voice echoed around the hushed space, bouncing off the roof and back to her. “I have tried to remain silent, but I can do so no longer. I adore you, Charlotte, and I would love nothing more than to offer you my hand and protection in marriage.”
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