Gentleman of Her Dreams

by Jen Turano

  “True, but honestly, Henry, you know poor Matilda’s reputation would have suffered dreadfully if we hadn’t managed to return her personal possessions to her. She most likely would have been forced to marry that cad, Mr. Blackwell, but because you managed to find her stolen undergarments in the man’s house, Matilda is now happily married to Mr. Smith, and she has you to thank for it. How could I have possibly known Mr. Blackwell would arrive home early from the theater and catch us in the act?” She patted his knee. “It was very noble of you to push me out that window and take the brunt of his displeasure.”

  “You broke your ankle.”

  “You ended up with a broken nose, so it’s all relative. Besides, at least I didn’t end up behind bars, and my mother is still thankful for that. She believes you’re a true hero come to life.”

  “I was less than a hero seeing as how I took a beating, left you all alone to make your way to the doctor’s, and caused my parents no small amount of embarrassment over being forced to bail me out of jail.”

  “My latest plan shouldn’t have such drastic results,” Charlotte said as she got to her feet and glanced at the clock. “We’re behind schedule. You did bring your horse, didn’t you?”

  Henry rose from the settee and nodded. “I did, along with a buggy.”

  “Your horse is attached to a buggy?”

  “Why do I get the distinct feeling you’re not pleased about that?”

  Charlotte ignored his question as she tilted her head to the side and thought for a minute. “Well, no matter. I’ll drive the buggy and you can ride my horse.”

  Henry’s eyes widened. “I’m not riding Beast. He hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you.”

  “He tried to bite off my arm.”

  “He’s mellowed since you last saw him.”

  Henry took a step forward. “Why can’t we both ride in my buggy? It has two perfectly good seats, so there’s really no reason to take an extra horse.”

  “Stop being a baby. We need to take an extra horse so that my plan can succeed, which reminds me I need to send word to the livery stable to have Beast saddled instead of hooked up to my buggy.” She moved to the bell pull, gave it a tug, and a mere thirty seconds later, Tilda hurried into the room. She gave the maid instructions and then turned to find Henry watching her.

  “You don’t need to look so worried, Henry. This is going to be a harmless jaunt.”

  “None of your jaunts are ever harmless.”

  “That’s not true, and besides, if we were to run into trouble, not that I think we will, you have little reason to believe you’d suffer another beating. You’ve become huge in the time you’ve been away. Mr. Blackwell would be no match for you today.”

  “We’re going after Mr. Blackwell?” Henry sputtered.

  “Of course not. He’s left the state, due to the fact he attempted to ruin another young miss, only this lady had four brothers who chased the blackguard out of New York.” She walked to the door and looked over her shoulder. “We need to go fetch Beast.”

  Henry crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not until you tell me about this plan of yours.”

  “I’ll tell you on the way to the livery stable. I don’t want to miss my opportunity at Central Park, and time is running away from me.”

  Henry muttered something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch, but he did join her and take her arm before they strolled down the hallway, into the kitchen to fetch the picnic basket, and out the back door. She couldn’t help but smile as Cook and the other servants followed them out, all making a fuss over Henry as he asked them about their lives.

  He’d always been considerate of others, especially servants.

  “Why did you have Cook pack so much food?” he asked as he shifted the picnic basket’s handle over his arm and took her hand in his before frowning down at her. “And why are you smiling?”

  “The food is part of the plan,” Charlotte said, “and I’m smiling because you’re such a nice man and you didn’t balk in the least at helping me, even though you have yet to learn the pesky details of what’s in store for you.” She squeezed his hand. “It almost feels like fate, you showing up today, because you’re the only friend I have who I can trust to help me in this matter, seeing as it calls for discretion.”

  Henry stopped moving. “Explain.”

  Charlotte tugged on his hand, which prodded Henry back into motion, but she took a moment to consider her words before she delivered them. She decided the best option was to simply get it out quickly. “I’m getting married.”

  Henry, suddenly scowling, came to an abrupt halt, dropped the picnic basket to the ground, and let go of her hand. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought it was self-explanatory,” Charlotte said.

  “My mother didn’t mention any upcoming nuptials.”

  “That’s because it’s still a bit sketchy.”

  “How can a wedding be a bit sketchy?” Henry demanded.

  “I’m not comfortable explaining.”

  “Try.”

  Charlotte bit her lip. “I’ve recently come to the conclusion that it is past time I selected a husband, and since I’ve had no luck obtaining one on my own, I put the matter in God’s hands. He, in all His wisdom, sent me Mr. Hamilton Beckett.”

  Henry’s eyes turned stormy. “Is that why you asked if I was acquainted with the Beckett family?”

  She nodded.

  “Isn’t Hamilton Beckett a little old for you?”

  “Of course not, he’s only . . . hmm . . . you know, I’m not certain how old Mr. Beckett is, but he can’t be more than thirty.”

  “You don’t know how old your fiancé is?”

  “That is the crux of my problem at the moment,” Charlotte said. “He’s not my fiancé quite yet.”

  Henry’s brow disappeared beneath the shock of black hair laying across his forehead.

  “In fact,” Charlotte said, stalling just a minute before she made her greatest confession, “I’ve never officially met the man.”

  Her temper began to simmer when Henry released a bark of laughter, although it was a strange type of laugh—part amused . . . part relieved.

  Before she could dwell on that for a sufficient amount of time, Henry picked up the basket, took her hand back in his, and began pulling her, not toward the livery, but back toward the house.

  “We’re going the wrong way,” she said.

  “No, we’re not,” he countered. “We’re going to take this basket back to the kitchen, and then you and I are going shopping. I’ll even pay.”

  Charlotte’s feet stopped moving. She snatched her hand out of Henry’s, crossed her arms over her chest, and shook her head. “I’m going to Central Park.”

  Henry blew out a breath. “You just admitted you don’t even know Mr. Beckett. Trust me, Charlotte, this is one plan you shouldn’t see through to fruition.”

  She felt her jaw clench. Why was he being so obstinate? In the past, he’d always been more than willing to help her with whatever plan she was attempting. Why was he balking now?

  It made absolutely no sense at all, and he didn’t even know what she was planning. How could he know she shouldn’t see it through to fruition? Granted, she hadn’t figured out all of the particulars since he’d entered the mix, but she would do that on the way to the park—if he could be convinced to participate. She bit back a smile as she realized exactly what she needed to do to garner his cooperation.

  “If you don’t want to help me, Henry, that’s fine,” she said with a lift of her chin. “I’m perfectly capable of traveling to the park on my own, and while it would have been convenient to have you introduce me to Mr. Beckett, I assure you, I’ll manage an introduction without your help.”

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Henry released a snort, grabbed her hand, and pulled her down the walk, this time toward the livery stable.

  He never had been able to refuse her anything, wh
ich was why she completely adored him and why she wasn’t above appealing to his gallant nature to get her way.

  “So, you’re going to help me?” she asked, panting slightly when he increased his pace yet again.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  Oh dear . . . he sounded sulky.

  That was quite unlike Henry. He rarely sulked.

  Perhaps he was tired from his travels.

  Perhaps she should reconsider and allow him to take her shopping. It would be the considerate thing to do, but then she wouldn’t get to meet Mr. Beckett.

  Henry dropped her hand and stowed the picnic basket in his buggy before he turned and, without a word, took her arm and steered her toward the stable. He paused when he reached Beast’s stall, and Charlotte felt a moment of trepidation when Beast looked at Henry, rolled his eyes, and then tossed his head even as his hoof began to paw the ground.

  They should definitely abandon the picnic idea and go shopping.

  Before she could get that out of her mouth, Henry grabbed Beast by the reins and pulled him out of the stall, still not speaking a single word.

  What in the world was the matter with him?

  She hurried to catch up and stopped when Henry turned to face her once he’d reached the buggy. “Tell me again, why do we need Beast and why aren’t you riding him?” he asked.

  “I’m not wearing a riding habit.”

  “Have you given all of your riding habits away?”

  Apparently he’d gone from sulky to sarcastic. She let out a breath. “I still have numerous riding habits at my disposal, but as my intention today is to meet Mr. Beckett, I wanted to look my best, and my riding habits do not show me in a flattering light. That’s why I chose this gown, but it requires a bustle, and you know bustles make it extremely difficult to maintain balance—but that has nothing to do with why we need Beast. You’ll need a way to get home after I become acquainted with Mr. Beckett.”

  “You’re planning on abandoning me?”

  “Not right away,” Charlotte said quickly. “That would be odd, wouldn’t it, if you were to introduce me and then bolt from the scene. No, I think you’ll need to stay, at least for a few minutes, and then you can remember a pressing appointment and take your leave.”

  Henry’s lips thinned into a straight line before he shook his head.

  She’d forgotten he was a somewhat stubborn soul. She summoned up her sunniest smile. “Honestly, Henry, I can’t very well get to know Mr. Beckett if you’re hovering at my side.” Her eyes widened even as the smile slid off her face. “And while I do need you to perform an introduction, how are we to arrange it so that Mr. Beckett does not come to the conclusion we’re a couple?” She bit her lip. “Maybe this isn’t such a wonderful plan after all. Maybe you should return home and allow me to travel to the park on my own. I’ll simply have to revert back to my original plan of suffering a loose wheel on my buggy which will allow me to throw myself on Mr. Beckett’s mercy, while at the same time using that to my advantage to become acquainted with him.”

  For some reason, Henry was once again muttering under his breath.

  She arched a brow.

  “I’m going with you,” Henry said between gritted teeth.

  Why was he being difficult? Honestly, it was not as if this was some unusual occurrence, her changing her mind. In the past, he used to accommodate her frequent flights of fancy with little more than a shrug.

  She opened her mouth, but didn’t have time to do more than squeak because she was suddenly hefted up into the air and then plunked down in a rather rough fashion on the buggy seat. Reins were thrust into her hand, and Henry gave her a brief nod before he stalked back to Beast’s side.

  Someone was obviously miffed.

  She could not remember a time when Henry was at odds with her. She cleared her throat, hoping to break the strained silence. “Try to remember that Beast is a little temperamental and prefers a light hand on the reins.”

  Henry turned his head and rolled his eyes. “He’s not a little temperamental, he’s a raving lunatic of a horse, and you owe me for this, Charlotte.”

  She watched as Henry climbed into the saddle, unable to help but notice and admire how lithe and muscular he’d become. Her gaze drifted to his legs and then darted quickly away because it certainly wasn’t acceptable to gawk at a gentleman’s thighs.

  “Are you going to lead the way?” Henry asked.

  Charlotte felt heat take over her face. She chanced a glance at Henry and breathed a sigh of relief. Annoyance was still clearly stamped on his face, which meant he hadn’t noticed her ogling him.

  What would possess her to ogle Henry? She’d certainly never done so in the past. She swallowed a grunt. That wasn’t exactly the truth. There might have been a few times . . . when she’d hoped they’d be together forever, but then he’d gone and turned funny and . . .

  No, she would not allow her mind to travel in that direction. She was not meant for Henry, she was meant for Mr. Hamilton Beckett, and she would do well to remember that.

  She flicked the reins and the buggy set to rolling down the street, Henry pulling Beast up beside them. He was watching her somewhat speculatively, and that speculation unsettled her.

  They passed the ride to Central Park in silence, and Charlotte was more than relieved when they finally reached their destination. She brought the buggy to a halt and took a moment to scan the area, smiling when her prey, or rather, Mr. Beckett, came into sight.

  “I see them,” she called to Henry and pointed off to the left. “He’s parked over there. We need to get closer.”

  “It’s starting to rain.”

  “Then I guess I should be thankful he’s underneath that large tree. It’s the perfect place to hold a picnic.”

  Charlotte edged the buggy around carriages that seemed to be making a hasty retreat from the park, thrilled to discover Mr. Beckett hadn’t moved.

  He was an adventurous soul, not intimidated in the least that it was most likely about to pour.

  He would suit her well.

  She pulled the buggy to a stop and turned to find Henry staring off toward Mr. Beckett. He wasn’t wearing a very pleased expression, but then again, it had begun to rain harder, and water was dripping down his nose.

  “All right, here’s what I want you to do,” Charlotte said. “You’ll ride Beast past him, call out to him, and then get off the horse. You’ll have to converse with him for a minute or two, I’ll leave the subject of that conversation up to you, and then, here’s the best part, you’ll tell him there’s someone you’d like him to meet. I’ll be watching for your signal, which should probably just be a wave. When I see you wave, I’ll come and join you. You’ll perform the introduction and after five minutes of the social pleasantries, you’ll remember your appointment.”

  “I don’t even get to eat lunch?”

  Charlotte was unable to stifle a huff of annoyance. It was now raining quite diligently, and her time to attract Mr. Beckett’s attention was disappearing the longer she argued with Henry. “You can take a sandwich with you. Now go and talk to him.”

  “Because that won’t look strange, you thrusting a sandwich at me when Mr. Beckett thinks I’m going off to an appointment. It’s a bit difficult to eat on the back of a bucking stallion.”

  Charlotte sent him a glare, which started Henry laughing and urging Beast forward. She sat back in her seat and watched as he approached Mr. Beckett, holding her breath when Henry jumped from Beast’s back and shook Mr. Beckett’s hand.

  She realized that Henry would be calling to her soon, so she stood up and smoothed her damp skirts down, lifting her head and forcing a smile. Before she had a chance to do anything else, a loud crack of thunder split the air, and the next thing she knew, Beast was charging directly at her, causing the horse attached to the buggy to bolt forward.

  Her body lurched backward and then toppled over the buggy’s seat, landing with a splat into a puddle of something vile. She pulled her head from
the muck, watched in disbelief as she saw Mr. Beckett driving his carriage rapidly away from her, and then turned her head ever so slightly as her gaze settled on mud-splattered boots.

  “Charlotte, are you all right?”

  “Why didn’t Mr. Beckett come to my rescue?” she managed to ask after she spit a glob of mud out of her mouth.

  “I would have to imagine he didn’t see you,” Henry said. “That lightning strike was too close for comfort, and he was concerned with getting his children to safety.”

  “Ah, he’s a wonderful father.”

  “Anyone in their right mind would get their children to safety,” Henry grumbled. “Here, take my hand.”

  Charlotte blinked muddy water out of her eyes and noticed that Henry was once again holding out his hand to her. She pushed out of the mud, slipped just a touch as Henry pulled her to her feet, and then peered into the distance, biting back a sigh when Mr. Beckett’s carriage was nowhere in sight.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Henry asked.

  “Only my pride,” she admitted as she patted his arm, causing bits of mud to fly everywhere. “Not to worry, though. In case you were wondering, I have a backup plan.”

  2

  Henry laughed out loud and then swallowed another laugh when two ladies approaching him from the opposite direction eyed him warily. He tipped his hat to them, flicked the reins to urge his horse faster, and then grinned as the image of Charlotte as she’d looked the day before, dripping mud and looking downright miserable, flashed through his mind.

  She was more enchanting than ever.

  She was also annoyingly determined—determined to proceed with her scheme of bringing Mr. Hamilton Beckett around to her way of thinking.

  He had nothing against Hamilton; in fact, in the past he’d enjoyed the gentleman’s company. Hamilton was a fairly capital fellow, and the ladies of New York seemed to find him pleasing on the eyes and possessed of a captivating, if somewhat brooding, nature.

  To give the gentleman his due, he had every reason to brood, as he’d been married to a shrew of a woman who’d embarrassed him to no end before she’d died. If anyone deserved a chance at happiness, it was Hamilton . . . but not with Charlotte.