Evading the Duke

by Jane Charles

  “Good, because I'd rather spend my attention on other things,” he whispered, his lips so close to her ear she could almost feel them.

  Charlotte's breath caught and she licked her lips nervously. Was he planning to seduce her? Another wave of excitement made her skin tingle.

  “Shall we?” James flashed her a wide, dazzling smile and offered her his arm.

  The tension crackled between them the whole way to Jane's house. Of course, there wasn't enough time for it to die down with the way James sat next to her, pressing the length of his leg against hers. Then because sitting so close made it hard to press his leg against hers without turning his shoulders at a strange angle, he reached his left arm around her—in the name of needing to keep her close for protection, mind you.

  By the time she exited the carriage at Jane's, she was ready to climb right back up into the seat, go home and change into her nightrail and lose herself for the rest of the night, buried in his spicy scent and silk sheets.

  “Oh, Charlotte!” Daphne said, wrapping Charlotte in a tight hug before she was even fully in the drawing room.

  Charlotte returned her younger sister's hug then looked to the handsome man behind Daphne. She assumed it was Aaron Lentz, Daphne's husband. Her suspicions were confirmed a moment later when Daphne made formal introductions of both Charlotte and James to Aaron.

  “You had an enjoyable trip, I presume?” James asked the couple, placing his open hand on the small of Charlotte's back.

  It sounded oddly as if Jane, from the side of the room, murmured something about Charlotte and James' enjoyable trip. Fortunately, no one else seemed to hear her and Charlotte winked at Jane.

  “We had a most enjoyable trip,” Aaron agreed with a quick grin.

  Beside him, Daphne blushed a fierce red. Apparently James and Charlotte weren't the only ones with certain activities on the brain.

  Around her, the room buzzed with voices and chitchat as Jane and Gareth and Michael and Jemma all visited with Daphne and Aaron, asking them questions about married life and Yorkshire.

  Though James' hand seared her skin through her layers of clothing, her eyes were fixed on Daphne and Aaron. She'd only corresponded through letters with Daphne since she'd decided to get married without warning last Michaelmas. Daphne had declared over and over how happy she was and how in love she and Aaron were. Seeing them together, however, only confirmed it—and more. Daphne's face practically glowed and Aaron's did the same. Everywhere Daphne moved, Aaron's eyes followed. Daphne had written to Charlotte that he was older than her, but to see them together, it was impossible to believe that such a thing made any sort of difference.

  The butler came to announce dinner and the couples were off to the dining room.

  Damn but James was the luckiest sod to ever step foot in England. Charlotte was beautiful; he already knew that. But she was breathtaking when she smiled like that and there was no mistaking it, her smile was genuine as she visited with her sisters and Jemma, the four of them laughing about this then that.

  Dinner is an unfortunate and tedious affair when a man has seduction on the brain.

  How prudent that James be such a man. And one with his wife's brother staring at him and lifting his eyebrow in silent question every two minutes, no less.

  Doing his best to ignore the duke, James made conversation with the other guests, but easily lost track of the conversation when his attention was stolen by his wife and her dainty foot which was currently navigating its way around his calf. He casually looked over at her. She was talking to Jane, but what she was saying James didn't know, nor did he care. He turned his attention to Gareth and shook his head. Blasted man was staring at his own wife, too. In all likelihood, Aaron was probably just as distracted by his. What curse did these Cavanaugh ladies possess that could entrance their husbands so?

  James might never understand it, but neither would he question it. Watching her red lips move as she spoke to her sisters, he could think of little else. Would they be soft? Would they yield under the pressure of his? Would she allow him to taste her mouth? He shifted, suddenly beyond uncomfortable in his current position. His eye caught Holbrook's and he quickly jerked his attention to his plate, but not before he heard Holbrook's knowing chuckle.

  James scowled. How was it so obvious to everyone how much he desired Charlotte? What of Charlotte? Had she determined how he felt about her yet?

  The way she hardly looked at him—yet continued to torture him with her toes left him conflicted and by the time dinner was over, James had to know. Now.

  “In here,” he murmured against Charlotte's hair, guiding her toward a closed door in the hall. Quickly, James opened it and pulled her inside, then closed it as quietly as he could. It was a closet. Perfect. They'd again been at the end of the line so he doubted anyone would notice their absence for a moment or two.

  A moment or two was all it'd take for James to determine the truth of it.

  Without a word of explanation, he snaked his arm around Charlotte and pulled her tightly against him, reveling in the way her full breasts felt pressed up against his chest, then he bent his head—

  James' kiss was not what she'd ever imagined.

  It was warm.

  It was soft.

  It was delicious.

  His left hand held her body against his while his right came up to cup her cheek, his lips still on hers with a gentle pressure she'd never thought could be enjoyable. Slowly, all the starch left her body and she felt like nothing more than a boneless heap, kept upright only by his strong embrace. His kiss changed a little, though she couldn't determine how exactly, but he seemed more intent and determined.

  She loved it.

  Coming up on her toes and twining her arms around his neck, she tried to give him all he demanded and take just as much.

  James' tongue coaxed her lips open at the same time the door to their darkened room opened.

  “When the two of you decide you require some air, we'll be waiting in the drawing room to play a game of whist,” Michael said, humor filling his tone.

  James brushed a kiss across Charlotte's forehead and whispered he was sorry, presumably for them being caught by her brother. “We'll be there when we're ready.”

  “Take your time,” Michael said, still not looking directly at either of them. “But just so you're aware, another guest has arrived and it wouldn't do for the gossip mill to start turning.”

  “We're coming,” James bit off.

  Just then, it was as if time stood still…

  “Excellent!” boomed a voice from the drawing room. Danby. “I should be expecting a few more branches on the family tree by Michaelmas. And when I say a few, I mean four.”

  Charlotte took his meaning. The old duke was grouping her and James in that count. Not to mention he—and everyone—knew what they'd been doing. Instinctively, Charlotte pressed her head against James' chest. His strong arms engulfed her and held her close.

  “It'll be all right,” he murmured before quickly releasing her with one arm and pulling the door shut behind her. “We'll stay here until he's gone.”

  Charlotte choked on a giggle. “I think they already know we're in here.”

  “Exactly.” He said before covering her lips with his again.

  What had reduced James to acting like a green lad, kissing his wife in her sister's closet, he'd never know. And at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care, either. All he wanted was her. To taste her. To hold her. To touch and kiss her. To make love to her until sunup…

  But not here in her sister's coat closet!

  Reluctantly, he pulled back. “Let's go,” he panted.

  “Go?”

  James was drawn by the confused tone of her question and kissed her again, a measure of pride building at being able to kiss his own wife senseless. “Home,” he murmured between kisses. “To bed.”

  Chapter 12

  Anyone who encountered the Earl and Countess of Wynn that night would have sworn the
two had a love match and were the most indecent two nobles in London.

  All the way back home, their lips and hands were all over the other.

  By the time they entered the house, Charlotte had somehow divested James of his coat and waistcoat and Charlotte's gown was scandalously unfastened.

  Neither cared and both ignored the curious expressions of the staff as James carried her upstairs and all the way to his bedchamber.

  “Perhaps you should ring for my maid,” Charlotte said, feeling suddenly nervous.

  “I'll be your maid.” James' nimble fingers started working the buttons on the back of her gown. With every inch of skin he exposed, her awareness heightened until she was standing before him in only her shift. “You're beautiful.”

  Charlotte sent him a seductive smile. “Do you plan to give me the same opportunity?” she asked, with a slow, lingering sweep of his body.

  With far less grace than he'd used in undressing her, James began to yank and pull at his clothes until he stood in only his smalls. Beautiful wasn't typically a word used to describe gentlemen, but if he were a statue—which, he certainly could be a model for with that broad chest, chiseled stomach and sculpted thighs—that word would be perfectly appropriate.

  “Magnificent,” she said, taking in as much of his form as the single candle and veiled moonlight allowed.

  Seeming not to hear her, James closed the gap between them again and his lips came down on hers with a kiss she was beginning to crave.

  She wound her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into the back of his hair, her breasts pressing against his strong chest.

  “The bed,” he said, his breathing ragged.

  Charlotte nodded, unable to even think a syllable of protest.

  James lowered her against the thick, feather mattress. “I'll be right back,” he said, standing. “We've both waited a long time for this. We should light the candles.” He sent her a wolfish grin that made her insides flip. “All of them.”

  Charlotte flushed. She didn't think this was something people did with all the candles lit. But now that he was suggesting it, standing almost naked in front of her, she couldn't see a reason why not.

  Next to her, James lit a match, illuminating his face and the night table next to the bed.

  Immediately, James' blew it out, but not before Charlotte glimpsed the little stack of papers on his nightstand—all written in her hand. Her blood turned to ice. Mortification and anger swirling within her.

  “Perhaps—”

  “Light the candle, James,” Charlotte said in a tone as frosty as her blood.

  “I can explain,” James said.

  His offer of an explanation made her feel more the fool. She hadn't made a mistake. Her gut clenched painfully and she clamored to get out of his bed. “I need to go.”

  James' strong hands covered her shoulders. “Let me explain.”

  She pushed away at his hands, blinking back tears.

  He didn't release her. “Charlotte.”

  She wriggled in his hold. “Let me go, please,” she said on the verge of hysteria. How could she have been so stupid? He'd played her the fool! And she'd fallen right into it.

  With a sigh, James released her and took a step away from the bed to allow her to leave. “Charlotte, I can explain.”

  “I'm sure you can. But I don't care to hear it.” She swiped at the blasted tears that had spilled onto her cheeks and moved to sidestep him and leave.

  He moved in front of her. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

  His hoarse tone and statement made her laugh bitterly. “No, just make a fool of me.”

  “No,” he said sharply. “I'm the one who was being made to be the fool.”

  “No, you weren't,” she shot back, hating the way her voice wavered. “You knew what was going on the whole time. I, on the other hand, was encouraged to write letters back and forth with someone I didn't know until I was—” She broke off another round of tears clogging her throat.

  “Until what?” he prompted, his tone was as impossible to decipher as his expression in the dark room.

  Charlotte ignored him and went to side step him again.

  He moved in front of her. “Until you what?”

  “Leave me alone,” she said between clenched teeth, stepping away from him again.

  He moved with her.

  She stepped to the side again and again he blocked her.

  Everywhere she stepped, he moved right in front of her as if they were the last two pieces on a chessboard moving one space at a time, but neither able to end the other's misery.

  “Stop!” Charlotte threw her hands into the air. “If you must know the truth, I had been giving consideration to his request.”

  James didn't say anything, which only stoked Charlotte's ire. Did he not care she was considering taking a lover? Or did he secretly hope she'd have agreed so he could shame her publicly and have reason for a divorce? Her heart leapt into her throat. How could she ever have trusted him? Either version of him?

  “Have you nothing to say for yourself?” she demanded angrily. “Do you still despise me so much for how we met that you'd go through so much trouble to drive me away so you might have your precious heir with someone who wasn't as detestable as me?”

  “No.”

  James' mind reeled. This wasn't how he expected her to react when she found out the truth. Actually, that wasn't true. He hadn't given any thought to how she'd react. He'd hoped he'd have been able to charm her enough as himself that she'd never know the truth of this. He'd have gladly never brought it up and he doubted she'd have, either.

  None of that mattered now, she had found out and if he didn't think of how to fix this—and quick—he'd lose her. Lose her. The words hit him like a punch to the jaw. Since when did he even care if he lost her? That doesn't matter, only that you will lose her. The realization only made him more ill at-ease.

  “Charlotte, I didn't mean to hurt you.”

  “Well, whether you meant to or not, you did.”

  Her words were the final blow to his heart. She'd always been so strong, holding her own to him and never showing weakness.

  “I'm sorry. I know I cannot undo what I've done, but I did it with only the best of intentions.”

  Charlotte scoffed.

  James released a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. “When I saw that first letter, I—I—I didn't know how to react,” he admitted softly. “It was the same day I'd so foolishly informed you I needed my heir, and when Gareth showed me what you'd received in the post and described your reaction, I didn't know what to do other than hire a Bow Street Runner to find him so I could unman him myself. But then Gareth suggested I write to you.” He swallowed. “You have to admit Jane and Gareth have a much better marriage than we do, so I took his advice.”

  “Gareth and Jane know about this?”

  James fisted his hands at the betrayal he heard in her voice. She must think everyone was trying to play her the fool. How wrong she was! “Yes, but—”

  She sobbed.

  “Charlotte, this wasn't meant to hurt you.”

  “No, then why did you do it?'

  “Because I thought it'd give us something to do together,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Do together?”

  “Discover the identity of Lord Smitten.”

  The way she recoiled told him that was not the answer she wanted to hear.

  James reached for her and she pulled back, taking the last bit of his heart with her. She'd never forgive him, he knew this now, and there wasn't any reason to keep her here any longer.

  Without a word, he stepped aside and watched as the woman he loved walked away from his room and him.

  Chapter 13

  Charlotte had no fingernails left by the time the clock chimed a decent calling hour, at which point—after six hours of waiting—Charlotte let herself into Jane's bedroom.

  “Why did you let him make a fool of me?” she burst out when she saw he
r sister.

  “He didn't make a fool of you,” Jane said dismissively, a little blush stained her cheeks. “We've all been there and understood.”

  “Not the closet.” Charlotte threw down all of the unsigned letters she'd received. Now they weren't so anonymous, nor as endearing. “You knew James wrote them.”

  “Yes, I did,” Jane confessed, her soft expression unchanging. “And I would have told you what I knew yesterday, but…”

  “But?” Charlotte prompted when it became evident Jane didn't intend to finish her sentence.

  “It didn't seem like it was important. You had already determined that you were going to seduce your husband, there wasn't any reason for me to mention this and ruin things.” She reached for Charlotte's hand. “I suspect that's why he hadn't mentioned them, either.”

  “No, he didn't mention them and he probably never would have had I not found them right before—” She choked on a sob, her face burning with fire. “We were just about to…er…”

  “Join,” Jane supplied for her.

  Charlotte nodded. “And I saw my letters on the nightstand beside the bed. Then he tried to hide them.”

  “Why do you think that was?”

  Charlotte sat beside her sister, for as angry as she wanted to be at her sister, she just couldn't hold onto it. Not with Jane. “To make a fool of me. To embarrass me. To lord this over my head.”

  Jane shook her head. “None of that. You didn't even do anything wrong,” she said with a slight shrug. “He encouraged you to respond.”

  “At first, yes,” Charlotte admitted. “But he only did it so he could—”

  “Form a relationship with you,” Jane cut in. “I'm not privy to his thoughts so I don't know what his exact plan from the beginning was, but the outcome was still the same: the two of you have an opportunity to begin again. Every unhappy couple I've ever seen would be happy for such an opportunity.”