The Unwanted Heiress (The Archer Family Regency Series)

by Corwin, Amy

  “Fortunate?” Charlotte asked, uncertainly.

  Lady Victoria smiled. “My husband’s schemes so rarely work out. So yes, fortunate.”

  The carriage navigated the crowded streets as Charlotte listened numbly to Lady Victoria’s anecdotes about the Archers. Finally, the carriage halted, depositing them outside the famous shop, Grafton’s. The next few hours were spent studying trim and fabrics and laughing over some of the more unflattering swaths. On a whim, Charlotte purchased a set of jet drop earrings while Lady Victoria’s attention was elsewhere.

  When they left the shop, they gave orders to the clerk to deliver the selected fabrics to Lady Victoria’s favorite mantua-maker. Lady Victoria took Charlotte’s arm and they walked, arm-in-arm, the few blocks to the seamstress. The proprietress was busy when they arrived and Charlotte took the opportunity to present the earrings to Lady Victoria.

  “When did you get those?”

  Charlotte grinned. “While you were studying the silver gauze. Do you like them?”

  “Yes!” Lady Victoria held an earring up and craned her neck to peer into a small mirror resting on one of the counters. “You are such a sweet girl—I wish my Mary—” She broke off to press a brief kiss to Charlotte’s cheek.

  Charlotte hugged her, feeling as if she had known Lady Victoria her entire life. She had never felt so much at home.

  The rest of the day passed quietly and the duke seemed to have forgotten her. He did not visit the Archers and, for once, Charlotte spent a quiet evening at home. With no distractions, she had plenty of time to fret over the duke’s preposterous proposal.

  The next morning, she entered the breakfast room and found the duke pacing. He strode from the table to the sideboard and back again with an empty plate held in one hand. Lady Victoria, seated at the table, sipped her coffee and cast exasperated glances at him.

  “How could my uncle already be gone?” Nathaniel asked. He paused to remove the silver cover to one of the warming pans. Clutching the serving spoon and his still empty plate, he stalked back to the table to glare at Lady Victoria. “He never gets up early. I need to speak with him.”

  “Put the cover back on the eggs, dear,” Lady Victoria replied. “Why don’t you have a cup of coffee?”

  “That is the last thing he needs—he is nervous enough already,” Charlotte said. She felt bitterly pleased to see Nathaniel—His Grace—so upset. He deserved it after causing her several long and sleepless nights.

  Nathaniel whirled around, nearly smacking her in the eye with the spoon. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here,” Charlotte replied. She raised her hand to block his waving spoon. “Good morning, Lady Victoria.” She bent and kissed her cheek briefly before picking up a plate.

  “Good morning, dearest. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Charlotte strolled over to the pan of fluffy eggs topped by bits of chives and cheese. “Would you mind handing me the spoon, Your Grace?”

  “The spoon?” He stared at his hand in surprise before thrusting it at her, scowling. “Where is Archer?”

  The ladies exchanged sighs and shook their heads.

  Charlotte selected a thin slice of toast and a small helping of eggs. “I don’t have the slightest idea.”

  “He is at—” Lady Victoria stopped, a look of consternation passing over her patrician features. “Well, I am not precisely sure. However he left at least an hour ago.”

  After sitting down, Charlotte accepted a cup of coffee from Lady Victoria and spread a teaspoon of orange marmalade on her toast. With another quick look in Nathaniel’s direction, she asked, “Why are you carrying an empty plate?”

  He slammed it down on the table, rattling all the dishes. “I need to speak to my uncle! Immediately!”

  “Well, as he is not here. I suggest you try to eat something. Would you like a nerve tonic, perhaps? They are wonderfully soothing.” Lady Victoria offered. She winked at Charlotte.

  Charlotte hastily stifled a laugh behind her napkin. “No, I do not want a nerve tonic. I have no need of one,” he snapped before picking up the plate again. He paced around the table. “I am not nervous. I am angry—as any simpleton could plainly see. I came here to speak with my uncle about—about an urgent matter. He seems to have vanished!”

  “The eggs are very good, Your Grace,” Charlotte observed, ignoring his tirade.

  Lady Victoria made an odd, snuffling noise behind her lace handkerchief.

  “This is absurd!” he said, slapping the plate back onto the table. “If he comes back, tell him I must see him immediately!”

  After he stalked out, Lady Victoria daubed at her eyes. “That was shameful of us. But he was always been such an impatient child. I had hoped he would grow out of it.”

  Pausing with a forkful of eggs and cheese near her mouth, Charlotte gazed back at her. Suddenly, she realized Nathaniel might have had a very good reason for being angry. Perhaps Mr. Archer had tried to force him to offer for Charlotte in hopes of keeping her from going to Egypt. Clearly the duke had thought better of the notion and now found it distasteful.

  Or it could be something far more serious.

  “You don’t suppose something has happened—you don’t think anyone would formally accuse him of murder, do you?”

  “Oh, no. Not a duke—they would not dare!” Lady Victoria’s gray eyes flickered toward the newspaper folded near the place where Mr. Archer usually breakfasted. “It could not be that, could it?”

  As Charlotte considered it, she grew more certain he was not upset about his proposal. He was upset about the murder inquiry.

  She put her fork down. “I—oh, dear. And we were teasing him when he may have been in terrible need of our assistance!”

  The ladies stood up. Lady Victoria clutched at Charlotte’s arm as they both dashed into the hallway. The foyer was deserted.

  “We must do something to help him—he is completely innocent!” Lady Victoria said. “I have known him since he was a babe. He would never do such a dreadful thing.”

  “We are in complete agreement. You wait here for Mr. Archer. I shall go speak with Nathaniel—His Grace. We will not leave him without assistance!”

  Charlotte glanced around. One of the maids was cleaning the table in the center of the entryway.

  “Come with me!” Charlotte said. She grabbed the maid’s arm and dashed toward the door.

  “But Miss, I cannot!” the maid complained, her dust rag falling from her fingers. “I don’t even have a shawl!”

  As they neared Suddley, the ever-prepared, he presented Charlotte with her wrap. He simultaneously shoved a second, moth-eaten gray shawl with only half a hem toward the maid. The girl barely had time to drape it over her thin shoulders before Charlotte grabbed her hand again and ran outside.

  The door to Nathaniel’s carriage clicked shut just as they reached the bottom step. Before the driver could flick his whip, Charlotte wrenched the door open. She shoved the maid inside and climbed in after her, nearly tearing her hem in her haste.

  Triumphant, she sat back on the padded leather seat to catch her breath. Across from her, Nathaniel frowned.

  She smiled serenely at him. To her amusement, his scowl deepened.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Helping you, of course. Unless you would rather hang for murder?” She raised a mocking brow. Even he wasn’t so lack-witted that he imagined he could investigate without her assistance.

  He leaned forward, face expressionless. His broad shoulders filled the center of the carriage. Suddenly, there seemed to be very little room inside the confined space.

  Charlotte tried not to display any cowardly weakness, but she couldn’t help leaning back a little further into her corner. Her breathing stopped while her gaze flitted from his glinting eyes to his hands, resting with deliberate casualness on his thighs. His silence and air of barely leashed anger made words superfluous.

  She tried to smile. She failed.

&n
bsp; “You will be compromised,” he remarked with dangerous softness. “And this time, I don’t want to hear any nonsense about it being impossible.”

  “No,” she squeaked before clearing her throat. “No.”

  She gestured toward the maid. “I have brought a maid with me. Our actions are most proper. And you are, after all, my guardian’s nephew.”

  He laughed, although not with amusement. “And you believe that is sufficient?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “I am an alleged murderer. What if I, or the real murderer, should attack you?”

  “You are not a murderer. I feel quite safe.” Charlotte glanced at the maid. The girl sat cowering in the corner, her wide eyes staring at Nathaniel as if he held a razor to her throat. “If anything should happen to me—if anyone should attack me while we are assisting you, my maid would beat them off.”

  When Nathaniel cast his mocking gaze over the maid, Charlotte eyed her and winced. The girl had a peculiarly rabbit-like appearance, complete with slightly protruding front teeth and a quivering pink nose. She didn’t look capable of fending off a sparrow with a broken wing.

  “Well, perhaps not beat him off, but at least scream,” Charlotte amended.

  A bleating whimper escaped from the maid’s trembling mouth. Charlotte said, “Perhaps not scream, precisely. But she could run to find assistance….” Her voice trailed off when she noticed the maid experiencing difficulty breathing.

  Alarmed, Charlotte shook her to get her inhaling again.

  “She could run to find assistance?” Nathaniel asked in a quietly disbelieving voice.

  “I could push her at you and while you—or the real murderer—throttled her, I could scream and go for assistance,” Charlotte replied more firmly.

  The maid was obviously incapable of rendering any help whatsoever, but that didn’t mean Charlotte was entirely without resources.

  Except now she felt trapped in the confined quarters of the duke’s carriage with him. And she had never before realized quite how large and muscular he was. His shoulders filled his side of the carriage, making her feel almost delicate in comparison although this was clearly ridiculous for a woman of her height.

  It is silly to be nervous.

  However, looking at him, she realized how very, very blue his eyes were when he was exceedingly angry. And yet, despite this, she longed to gaze into them and have him take her into his arms again. He had felt so warm the other night….

  “Really?” he asked, breaking the silence. He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. His eyes locked on hers.

  “Yes, really,” Charlotte replied, settling back and wrapping her shawl more firmly around her shoulders.

  “However there is no point in being overly dramatic about it. None of that will be necessary. You are a gentleman and would not dream of comprising anyone.” She patted the maid’s forearm. “There is nothing to be afraid of—um— what is your name?”

  “Ah—ah—Alice, Miss.”

  “Well, Alice, there is no reason to be afraid of His Grace. You have seen him at the Archer’s townhouse many, many times, have you not?”

  “Yes, Miss.” The maid looked down at her reddened hands, clenched tightly in her lap. She didn’t appear reassured.

  “He is not going to hurt you,” Charlotte said, becoming obscurely annoyed with Alice’s continued fear. The fact that Charlotte also found Nathaniel’s presence overwhelming made her more determined to reassure Alice. Then they could all relax—particularly Charlotte.

  Maybe the maid was terrified because he was a duke. That simply proved people allowed titles to unduly impress them.

  A small voice whispered that if she took away the title, Nathaniel would still be impressive and dangerous. The thought made her uneasy.

  “You should listen to your maid,” he commented.

  The oblique warning started the maid’s whimpering anew.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake! This is absurd!” Charlotte covered her nervousness with the more manageable emotion of impatience. “Your Horrible Highness,” she added. “I am coming with you to assist with this silly rumor about—” she stopped to take a quick peek at the maid. Charlotte did not want to alarm her any further.

  However, the maid was no longer capable of paying any attention to anyone. Succumbing to her terror, she sat weeping into her shawl, huddled in the corner.

  “I don’t need your assistance,” the duke said.

  “Yes, you do. You either cannot, or will not, be pleasant enough to the women who attended the ball to question them.”

  “If I am pleasant to them, they take it as an invitation to become the next duchess—”

  “Which I obviously don’t have the least desire to become,” she said. It felt like she was lying. “So there is no need for you to scowl at me. And, since you are positively terrified of women, I will question them while you interrogate their husbands, or fathers, or any other males you see fit to quiz.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched as if he was about to smile. But he managed to control himself and deepen his frown. “There is no need to come with me in order to speak to the females—”

  “Actually, there is.” Charlotte paused.

  How could she admit she wanted to help him because she liked the Archers? For once, she wanted to stay, at least for a little while, and she did not want to see the family ruined by sordid rumors.

  Most of all, she did not want to see Nathaniel ruined by accusations.

  Clasping her hands ever more tightly, she replied in a painfully even tone, “Most of the women don’t know me. However, if I am escorted by someone they wish to entertain, someone like an unmarried duke, they will speak to me.”

  “No one would refuse to speak to you.”

  She couldn’t reply until she cleared the lump from the back of her throat. Men never understood, particularly those with titles. “It is not that I lack money or even good breeding. It is that they don’t approve of my ideas.” Or me, for that matter. I am only a rebellious Colonist, after all.

  “That is absurd. A lot of females—”

  “It is not absurd, you don’t understand—”

  “Will you allow me the courtesy of finishing at least one sentence?” he asked in exasperation.

  Cheeks flaming with mortification, she nodded.

  He said, “I cannot tell you how many women—and men—have very odd notions. In fact, I have often thought the hallmark of a true Englishman is having peculiar ideas. You refine too much on trivialities. You are perfectly acceptable and most of the ladies would be more than happy to invite you to tea.”

  “That is not true,” she said, thinking of Almack’s rejection. “Although I do agree with you that the English have more than their fair share of strange notions. Nonetheless, the fact remains I am not, and never have been, a socially popular woman. If I were, I wouldn’t have lived with five—or is it six—families over the last nine years.

  “However, what is important is discovering who murdered that poor girl. Not whether I am a popular debutante or bluestockinged hoyden.”

  He laughed. “I agree, although I also will not forget what you have said. I intend to prove you are as popular as any other debutante stumbling across the dance floor at Almack’s.”

  “Done!” Charlotte said before murmuring, “And what a lovely compliment. I may be exceedingly tall, but I do not stumble across the dance floor.”

  Nathaniel leaned back, stretching out his long legs on either side of her. Again she realized how tiny the carriage was. His knees were so close to hers she could feel the heat between them. As the carriage swayed, his legs bumped hers and seemed to linger, rubbing against her.

  Was he conscious of it? When she glanced at him, there was an almost feral gleam in his eyes.

  “I never said you stumbled. However, I have never had the pleasure of seeing you dance.” The expression of mock innocence on his face made her want to box his ears. “It is doubtful you will ever experience that
pleasure.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, glancing down at her hands clasped in her lap. His leg bumped her thigh again. She refused to glance up at his face although his voice sounded as if he were laughing. “The season is not over yet.”

  “It is as far as I am concerned.” Her reply sounded tart even to her ears.

  A horrified gasp from the maid made Charlotte regret her tone. Trembling and holding her apron to her mouth like a gag, the maid stared at Nathaniel as if she expected him to kill them both.

  “Oh, do be at ease, Alice,” Charlotte said, grasping the girl’s arm.

  The maid shrieked and pulled away. Her watery brown eyes flickered from Charlotte to Nathaniel in rapid succession.

  After an abrupt, dismissive flap of his hand toward Alice, Nathaniel sat up and glanced out the window. “Well, she is no use to you—or me.”

  Charlotte sighed. “Unfortunately, I agree. Had I known she was so prone to hysterics I would never have brought her along. Please hush, Alice! No one is going to hurt you!”

  “His Grace will have me put off!”

  “He will do no such thing!” Charlotte replied, trying to keep her voice soft. “In fact, he is going to turn the carriage around. We will return to the Archers’ where you can go back to dusting the hall table and anything else you wish.”

  “Thank you, Miss,” Alice replied, her thin, chapped hands twisting the raveling ends of her shawl. “And you will not hold it against me, Your Grace?”

  “I will not even remember your name,” Nathaniel assured her, although his sarcastic tone made Charlotte cast a quick look at him. He smiled benignly and rapped the ceiling of the coach before giving the order to turn the carriage around.

  With that reassurance, the maid picked up the corner of her apron and started chewing on the ragged hem. She kept her eyes resolutely fastened on the open window.

  Taking that good example to heart, Charlotte gazed out her own window. She refused to look at Nathaniel even though it felt as if his blue eyes were burning the side of her face.

  When they arrived back at the townhouse, Tom Henry opened the door and held out his hand to help the little maid descend. He appeared somewhat startled when he saw Charlotte. However, he recovered swiftly and again held out his hand to assist her.