The Seduction of Lady Charity: The Baxendale Sisters Book Four

by Maggi Andersen

  At her mother’s beaming approval, Kitty rose and accompanied him onto the floor. “I have refused two gentlemen. Mama was quite cross. She said I looked like a wallflower.”

  Such a suggestion was so ridiculous Robin laughed. He shook his head at Kitty’s naïve flaunting of etiquette. “The poor fellows must have been cast low by your refusal.”

  “I prayed you would return in time to waltz with me, and here you are!”

  “I’m flattered, but I don’t consider myself to be any more accomplished than the next man.”

  “Oh but you are.” She widened her eyes at him. “You are so much better than Mr. Duncrief, who always manages to bruise my toes.”

  Robin smiled, pleased to see she was emerging from her shell. “Then I’m relieved to have saved you from a mauling.” He had to admit that when she gazed up at him so adoringly he was extremely flattered. Especially when the lady he desired treated him like a brother.

  “Lady Charity and I had a nice talk. I doubt she will ever leave Tunbridge Wells. She seems to love it there.”

  “As did I for some years.”

  “You have known her a long time?”

  “Yes and her family.”

  She peeped up at him. “Are they all so very tall?”

  “Tall? The earl is a tall man.”

  “And his five daughters also?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Don’t ladies come in all sizes?” Robin asked, amused.

  “Of course they do.” She giggled. “It’s just that I’m so small. I have to look up at people.” Her gloved hand tightened in his. “It makes me feel nervous sometimes.”

  “You are amongst friends here tonight.” He turned her in the waltz. She did feel light in his arms. It struck him again how fragile little Kitty was; it made a man want to protect her.

  The music ended, and he escorted her from the floor, bowed, and left her with her mother. He spied Charity’s elegant figure as she left the floor on Lord Herbert’s arm and made his way over to her. When they were alone, he sat beside her.

  “Please don’t worry. Your father is happily ensconced in the library. He appears to have recovered and blamed the dance, which was too spirited. I left a footman to keep an eye on him.”

  “How kind of you. We might leave, but my aunt seems to be enjoying herself. I doubt it will be easy to remove my father from your books, either, and, I suspect, an excellent brandy.”

  “You cannot leave. We haven’t waltzed.”

  “No, but you’ve hardly been deprived of a partner.”

  “I gather you mean Lady Kitty. What did you two find to talk about?”

  “I’m afraid I did most of the talking.”

  “Oh? You’re usually a good listener.”

  “Lady Boothby wished to know more about Tunbridge Wells and peppered me with questions. And you must admit that it is an interesting town.”

  He looked at her carefully. “Historically? Or were you reaffirming your intention to live there until decrepitude removes you from this earth?”

  She disliked his insinuation, even though it was reasonable to assume she might. “You don’t miss your old home?”

  “I had to turn my back on my life there,” he said philosophically. “I’ve leased the property.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charity looked into Robin’s serious grey eyes. Perhaps, for the first time, she realized how hard it must have been for him to make such a dramatic change in his life. To leave behind his friends and all that he knew. Women usually did, after they married, but this was different. It must have been like slipping off a comfortable coat and donning another that didn’t quite fit. “It can’t have been easy, Robin.”

  “One might complain of far worse things. We would not be tested in this life if we were to get all we want from it, don’t you agree?” The orchestra struck up again. “Aha, a waltz.” He held out his arm.

  She shot him a questioning glance as they crossed to the dance floor. “The orchestra has played two waltzes in the last hour, Your Grace. I imagine the program was set before the ball began?”

  “Changed at my behest.” He raised an eyebrow. “I may request several more waltzes before the evening ends.”

  She smiled. “You will exhaust all your guests. And to what purpose?”

  “To dance with a graceful lady.”

  Robin clasped her hand, his other resting lightly at the base of her spine. His gaze held hers as their bodies moved together. “My first waltz,” she said, aware of his body heat where her hand rested on the shoulder of the fine dark wool of his evening coat.

  “You didn’t waltz with Gunn?” He almost bit off the words.

  “We danced. But not the waltz.”

  His hold tightened. “Then I’m glad.”

  “Glad that this is my first waltz, or glad I didn’t waltz with Gunn?” She was ridiculously nervous and gabbling. How odd.

  “Both.” He guided her around the floor. Goodness, he was tall. She’d barely noticed that before. And he smelt delicious. A toilet water her father never used. No wonder all the single ladies had their eyes on him. Inexplicably resentful, she realized he would no longer be her dearest friend after he married. Especially if he married Kitty. Charity was sure Kitty would never allow their friendship to continue.

  The chatter and laughter faded as the music swelled, and all her senses came to life. The smoky, perfumed air was tinged with the aroma of coffee. A shimmering radiance cast by the crystal chandeliers overhead embellished the scene, the flowers and greenery and the women’s gowns. Robin’s hand was firm against the small of her back. Light and color swirled around her as she spun. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she found him smiling, a smile as intimate as a kiss.

  “You had a dreamy expression on your face. Care to tell me what you were thinking?”

  She drew in a breath. “I’ve decided I love to waltz.”

  “As do I.” His eyes seemed to smolder. Charity’s heartbeat quickened. Waltzing with him was far too delicious. Unsettled, she gazed over his shoulder straight into Kitty’s beautiful brown eyes, as hard as agate. Charity smiled and nodded, hiding her unease as Robin masterfully spun her around.

  ****

  At the conclusion of the dance, Charity linked her arm with Robin and left the ballroom floor.

  “May I take you into supper?” Robin asked.

  “Shouldn’t you invite another lady?” Her voice rose in surprise. She had plainly heard his friend, Lord Bellamy, declare that Robin would marry Kitty. And Robin had not denied it.

  Robin raised an eyebrow. “Who would that be?”

  “Well, I thought…I imagined…” She ran out of words, failing to find a polite way to express what she’d overheard.

  His eyes caught and held hers. “You believe I am committed to another?”

  “Well, I did, yes…but, Robin, it’s entirely your business.”

  Robin’s grey eyes heated. “And if I say I am not?”

  Charity caught her breath at the loud tone of his voice. “I don’t believe we should be having this conversation. And certainly not here!”

  “Then come to the library with me to see your father. We can continue this on the way.”

  “Your Grace! I cannot leave the ballroom alone with you,” Charity said in a strangled undertone. How recklessly Robin was behaving. Had he been imbibing brandy with her father? She looked at him doubtfully. He seemed steady enough on his feet.

  Robin gazed around at the milling crowd. “There’s no one within earshot, and we cannot be overheard above the laughter and chatter.” He started, and he ran his hands through his hair, disturbing its fashionable arrangement. “Forgive me. I do apologize. What a poor fellow I’d be not to guard your reputation.”

  “That isn’t what I meant,” she said, perplexed. “It’s your standing I’m thinking of. I am a stranger to Northumberland and will be forgotten soon enough.”

  Glaring at her, he coiled his fingers tightly around her forear
m. “You are the most infuriating female I have ever met.” He shook his head. “As you seem to think I should, I will invite another lady into supper.”

  For a moment, they stood in a frozen tableau, and then he turned on his heel and left her.

  Shocked by his uncharacteristic display of bad temper, Charity watched him make his way through the crowd, greeted by those strolling to the supper room. Robin spoke to her aunt, who smiled and placed her hand on his arm.

  Charity hadn’t been entirely honest with him. She couldn’t express how much she hated the idea of the guests, whom she didn’t know beyond a brief introduction, judging her or Lady Boothby and her daughter casting her hateful glances. She thought Robin understood, that although she wasn’t timid, and didn’t consider herself socially inept, she was a shy creature who, instead of being the center of attention, preferred to paint and draw, to wander the gardens, and to read. She had considered they might marry one day when Robin had been a mere viscount, as he would have allowed her to live as she wished. And he would have been a boon companion.

  But now he’d made it quite clear that his duchess must measure up to his expectations as well as those of the ton.

  Suddenly terribly alone, she was relieved when Lord Herbert came to offer her his arm.

  At supper, she avoided Robin, who stood with her aunt at the buffet table, where a blend of delicious aromas wafted into the room. He lowered his head to listen to Aunt Christabel while they selected food from the vast array of tempting dishes. The evening had been splendidly arranged, and at such short notice, she thought with a catch in her throat. Everything sparkled, from the chandeliers to the polished ballroom floor, with large urns of ferns and autumn leaves decorating each corner. And he had meant this to be for her aunt, who was enjoying herself hugely.

  “Would you care for a slice of ham, Lady Charity?” Lord Herbert asked her in a tender tone.

  Charity accepted it graciously, doubting she could eat a bite.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Robin observed Charity where she stood with Lord Herbert, who was behaving in a ridiculous fashion, dangling morsels before her. Attempting to cool his temper and frustration, he smiled at Lady Huddlestone, who was happily embarking on a rather muddled description of a favorite novel. From what he’d learned of it, the story sounded surprisingly passionate.

  He added sliced tomato, which had been grown in his glasshouses, to the food on his plate. Charity was not insensitive, and yet she continued to ignore his veiled attempts to woo her. Well, the unveiling would take place the very next time they met. Dancing with her had made his whole body come alive, and he’d suffered an urge to gather her into his arms and carry her off. He wasn’t sure when his feelings for her had changed, but he didn’t want to be merely her friend. What he wished to do with Charity would rival anything in Lady Huddlestone’s book. He would make quite clear what he wanted, and if she refused him again, he’d have to take it on the chin and would be forced to consider another lady.

  As he went to fork up an oyster patty from the platter, another fork, attached to a petite hand, bumped against his. Lady Kitty giggled up at him. “Oh, Your Grace! We are of the same thought. I believe our tastes are alike.”

  He smiled down at her. “Perhaps you’re right, Lady Katherine.” He was a fool. Life might be a good deal more pleasant with someone who looked up to him and seemed to adore him, if only he could wrestle his annoying emotions into submission.

  “Might I offer you a turkey fritter, Lady Katherine?” Lord Gordon’s son, Julian, short of his majority by one year, appeared beside Kitty, begging like a puppy dog. Robin turned away to hide his smile.

  “Please go away, Julian,” Kitty snapped. “I have danced with you as I promised to do.”

  “But, Kitty!” Lord Julian sounded like a broken man.

  Amused and feeling rather old for his twenty-seven years, Robin took Lady Huddlestone’s arm. “Shall we be seated?”

  “Oh yes, thank you, Your Grace. I must speak with Charity. I haven’t seen her father for some time.”

  “Lord Baxendale is in my library reading while sampling my brandy.”

  “Is he indeed? My brother has become most unsociable. I shall have to speak to him.” She frowned. “I do hope he is well.”

  “A little tired, perhaps.”

  “Then we’d best go soon. I hope you’ll forgive us if we leave early. It has been a wonderful evening.”

  “I am pleased you’ve enjoyed it.”

  “Very much, and I’ve received several invitations, which have included Charity. I’m sure she will be delighted to hear of them.”

  Robin doubted Charity would be so happy. He frowned. What lay behind her rather secretive manner since she’d come here? She was very different in Tunbridge Wells. Was it Gunn? And where the devil had she gotten that idea he was promised to another?

  ****

  At breakfast, Father thumped his stomach and declared himself fit for anything. “It could well be that excellent brandy of Harwood’s.” He served himself a large plate of eggs, bacon, and kidneys from the dishes on the sideboard.

  Charity met her aunt’s gaze. Neither of them believed it, but they were prepared to hope.

  “Another week of rest, and I’m sure you will…” Charity began carefully.

  He came to sit at the table. “Now don’t fuss, child.”

  “No, Father,” she said meekly. She put down her napkin and rose from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll take a long walk. Robin and I will not work on the sketches today. Does anyone wish to join me?” She had seen little of the beautiful countryside, and the leafy lane wandering up a hill beckoned. She remembered that, when she was a child, she’d always wondered what was over the next hill, and it seemed the desire remained. A walk would help her to reflect on Robin’s behavior. She’d felt a little hurt at his offhand manner. When he’d bid them goodnight, he’d barely glanced her way. He was becoming quite officious.

  Father forked bacon into his mouth and chewed. “I plan to read another of those tomes Harwood brought me.”

  “An excellent notion, Baxendale,” Aunt Christabel said in an encouraging tone. “I’m a little tired and shall read the new book I discovered at the lending library. I no longer have the same amount of energy as you, Charity.”

  Charity rugged up warmly against the crisp air and set off down the avenue to the gates. As she walked, she went over all that had passed between her and Robin during the previous evening. He’d been quite forceful in his declaration that he was not about to marry, but although he’d danced with other young women, he’d given a good deal of attention to Kitty. However, careful to observe the proprieties, he hadn’t danced more than twice with her or any of the debutantes.

  She couldn’t dismiss how her feelings for him had changed. And she was sure that Robin’s attitude to her had altered too. He treated her in an almost proprietorial manner at times, which was quite provoking. He’d made it obvious that he wouldn’t countenance a wife undertaking any kind of employment. And, of course, a duchess never would. She’d just have to ignore the strong physical attraction, and when she left Northumberland next week with her father, her work and the family would be paramount. Any thoughts of Robin would become like a distant, slightly sad hum in the background to her life.

  At the top of the hill, she stopped to admire the verdant land stretching out before her, quiet lanes and drystone walls crisscrossing fields with the river coursing through them and the spectacular woods ablaze with autumn color. The breeze brought with it a trace of lichen. Magnificent as the view was, her heart felt strangely heavy as she continued her walk.

  An hour later, she returned to the house. She expected to find her father reading but couldn’t locate him in the bookroom, where her aunt sat with two cats on her lap.

  “Where’s Father, Aunt Christabel?”

  “He’s gone to Harwood Castle.”

  An invitation must have come for him. “Is Robin to show him over
the castle today?”

  “Your father said he wished to see more of the estate.”

  Unease made Charity pause at the door. “Did he go in the gig, Aunt?”

  Her aunt looked up. “I imagine he did, but I didn’t see him leave.”

  Charity hurried to the stables and found the gig standing on the cobbles, unhitched. A groom emerged to greet her.

  “Did you drive my father to the castle, Bryan?”

  “He rode Firefly, milady.”

  Fear tightened her ribcage. Her father was so audacious. Really, he should be watched as though he were a child. “Saddle a horse for me, Bryan. I’m going to change my clothes.”

  Bryan replaced his hat. “In a trice, milady.”

  An hour later, Charity rode into the Harwood stables. After enquiring, she discovered her father had ridden out with the duke some time ago.

  “Which direction did they take?”

  “Hobson’s farm, Lady Charity.” The groom pointed. “About three miles as the crow flies, north of here. The lane takes you right to the farmhouse door.”

  Charity quickly nudged the horse into a canter and rode along the lane through the trees, emerging onto a road bordered by fields. When she reached the small, thatched dwelling, the farmer’s wife rushed out before Charity could dismount. She dropped into a curtsey, her face flustered. “His Grace and the other gentleman have ridden out into the fields with Mr. Hobson, my lady.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hobson.”

  Her heart thudding in her chest, Charity rode across a field, the cold air biting at her face. What was her father thinking? And Robin too. Did men have no sense? Her mother would be so angry. As she rode, she became almost sick with apprehension at what she might find.

  Over a rise, she saw three men in the unplowed field. One was on the ground. It was Father. With a sickening cry, she nudged the horse into a gallop, covering the ground fast.

  They turned to look at her as she reined her horse in. “Are you all right, Father?” she cried.