Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Uncle Charlie's Angels Book 1)

by Samantha Grace

  “I must insist you go without me. Mr. Vistoire is expecting you.”

  “Let’s allow the doctor to examine you.” She nodded to Sophia to do as Aunt Beatrice requested, although she had no intention of leaving Wedmore House with her aunt laid up in bed.

  A couple of hours later, the doctor was gone and Aunt Beatrice was sleeping soundly after a dose of laudanum. Regina joined Evangeline in Aunt Beatrice’s sitting room below stairs and collapsed on the velvet sofa with a weary sigh.

  Her sister closed her book. “Lord and Lady Seabrook came for Sophia. How is Aunt Beatrice?”

  “Resting,” Regina said. “Dr. Portier gave her laudanum for the pain. He said at her age, it is a wonder she didn’t break a bone.”

  “She made a lot of racket for a small woman,” Evangeline said. “Is the doctor certain about her having no broken bones?”

  “He said she bruised her ribs. She must have hit the chair when she came down. As Sophia noted, she has a large knot on the back of her head, but we are not to worry.” Regina wished she felt as confident in Dr. Portier as he did in his diagnosis. Doctors made mistakes the same as everyone, but she had no choice except to trust his word. “I will look in on her often and send for the doctor again if her condition worsens.”

  “I’m certain Auntie will be all right. Sleep is likely the best medicine. Perhaps we shouldn’t look in on her until morning unless she rings for assistance.”

  Regina tossed a dubious look in Evangeline’s direction.

  Her sister chuckled. “Point taken.”

  At least the creaky floorboards would alert them if she crawled from bed. For the moment, the floor above them was silent, so Regina allowed herself to sink into the plush sofa cushions and relax. “Why didn’t you go to the Ellis’s ball with Sophia? Lady Seabrook’s offer to chaperone was extended to any of us who wished to go.”

  “It should come as no surprise I chose to remain at home.” Evangeline held up the book she’d been reading. “Besides, between Lord and Lady Seabrook, their daughters, and Sophia taking the seats, I would have been forced to ride on the box with the driver. There is still time for you to dress and meet Sophia at the ball. I allowed Joy to go visit her sister, but I could help with your gown.”

  Regina waved off her sister’s offer.

  “Mr. Vistoire is expecting you,” Evangeline reminded her.

  “It cannot be helped. My duty is to Aunt Beatrice. If Mr. Vistoire does not understand, I see no reason to further our association.”

  The uneasiness that had been pestering her since her conversation with him yesterday returned, making her stomach churn.

  “It’s not any more your responsibility to care for Aunt Beatrice than it is mine,” Evangeline said. “I will look after her while you are at the ball.”

  “No, it is best for me to stay. I shouldn’t have promised to meet Mr. Vistoire. It was unwise to encourage him.”

  “I thought you decided you liked him.”

  Last night she had joined Evangeline in her bedchamber to share her conundrum. They had stayed up much too late talking, as sisters often did when they were the best of friends.

  “I do. Maybe. Are you warm?” Regina hopped from the sofa, paced to the window, and threw the sash up. She breathed in the cooler air in a bid to clear her mind. “Liking a gentleman does not mean one should marry him, however.”

  Evangeline gasped. “Gi, you never said he’d offered marriage.”

  Regina twirled to face her sister with a denial on the tip of her tongue, but it died away when she saw Evangeline’s glowing smile. Regina’s sister had admitted to liking Mr. Vistoire as well now that she’d spent time with him.

  Regina sighed. “I did not mention it, because I will not marry him.”

  “I don’t understand.” Evangeline left her seat to come stand at her side. Her sister’s eyebrows were drawn together in concern. “I realize it is too soon to know if you love him, but why are you certain you won’t marry him?”

  Regina’s bottom lip trembled. She pressed her lips tightly together as tears threatened to fill her eyes.

  Evangeline touched her shoulder. “What is wrong?”

  She inhaled deeply and tried to make sense of the onslaught of sadness. “I don’t know,” she admitted eventually. “When I think I could fall in love with him...”

  The blasted tears fell on her cheeks. She brushed the wetness away with her fist and forced a smile. “It is simply the excitement of the afternoon. I am still shaken from Aunt Beatrice’s fall. When I saw her lying there, I thought—”

  Evangeline grabbed Regina’s hands. “You thought Aunt Beatrice was seriously injured.”

  “I thought perhaps we’d lost her.”

  “Oh, Gigi.” Her sister smiled sadly. “Auntie is fine. Her eyesight is failing, and she’s not as steady on her feet as she once was. Accidents are bound to happen when she refuses to listen to sound advice, but she will recover. Come sit with me.”

  Evangeline led her back to the sofa and sat beside her, still holding hands. Her grip was firm and kept Regina tethered to her. “What does Aunt Beatrice have to do with Mr. Vistoire?”

  Regina sniffled, the tickling of her nose warning of more tears to come. She was struggling to sort through the riot of emotions inside. Explaining to her sister seemed impossible.

  “Aunt Beatrice is older. I realize she will not live forever, but I cannot stand the thought of saying good-bye to her. Or Uncle Charles or Sophia or you. I have so much to lose already. Does it make sense to love a man when I will lose him eventually too?”

  “Regina.” Evangeline released her hand to hold her own head. Regina could almost see the thoughts swirling in her sister’s mind. “How long have you thought this way?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. Perhaps this fear had always lurked in the background, but it had never taken form until now. When she said it aloud, it sounded ridiculous, but she couldn’t deny the turmoil inside of her eased when she discarded any thoughts of marriage.

  Evangeline dropped her hands to her lap and smiled sadly. “Loving someone is a risk to the heart, but is falling in love truly a choice?”

  “Probably not after one reaches a certain point, but I am not there yet. Wouldn’t it be better for me to end my association with Mr. Vistoire now while I still have the wherewithal to choose?”

  “I have never been able to follow your logic,” Evangeline said with a sigh. “As I see it, you have two alternatives: love and risk heartbreak, or keep every man at arm’s length and secure a loveless existence.”

  “True.” Regina nodded slowly, mulling over the situation.

  “For pity’s sake,” Evangeline blurted and grabbed Regina by the shoulders. “How is a life without love even a consideration for you? Don’t you want what our parents had?”

  Their father and mother had been uncommonly smitten with each other well beyond their newlywed days. Every memory Regina kept of their parents together, they were touching, engrossed in conversation, or laughing and teasing one another. Of course she wanted what they had. But she wanted it forever, not fleetingly like her parents, and she didn’t believe something so beautiful could last.

  Regina clenched her fists. “Who are you to lecture me? You are guilty of the same crime. Before long, you will be traveling the world with Uncle Charles and immersed in your digs and research. Why is it acceptable for you to be a spinster but not me?”

  “I never said I wouldn’t marry. If I am fortunate enough to find a man who loves me and I love him, I will not hesitate to become his wife.”

  As usual, Evangeline obliterated Regina’s argument before they had gotten a good row going. “You never said.”

  “You never asked,” Evangeline retorted.

  No, she hadn’t. Regina had simply assumed her sister wouldn’t want a husband to possibly interfere with her travels.

  “Who will care for Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Charles if I leave Wedmore House?” Regina asked. “After today, there is no doubt she will
need a caretaker before long.”

  “We could take our turns caring for Aunt Beatrice. Just like we do now.”

  “Not if I’m living in New Orleans.”

  Evangeline’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead. “Would Mr. Vistoire take you away? His family is in England, and I thought he had no other relatives in America.”

  “He has a house and land. That is reason enough to return.”

  “Well, we will not allow it. He must first agree to stay in England before you will accept his proposal. Tell him I said so.”

  Regina laughed at the determined set to Evangeline’s jaw. “Perhaps I should save the conversation for when he actually proposes.”

  “I will leave the timing up to you, but no promise means no wedding. I will not be swayed.”

  “Duly noted.” Regina tossed her arms around her sister’s neck and squeezed. “I love you, dearest sister.”

  Evangeline returned her hug. “And I love you, even though I want to shake you until your teeth rattle sometimes.”

  “Oh, now you are just being sappy.”

  Seventeen

  “I am going to hell,” Xavier muttered as he stood in the back garden outside Wedmore House with a crowbar he’d taken from the mews. Aside from the occasional croak of a frog or the echo of horses’ hooves from the front street, the neighborhood was quiet. The town houses were like slumbering giants nestled among one another, appearing deserted this time of night.

  Anyone of consequence in Mayfair was attending a party while their servants were snug in their beds—at least until the family returned home. He’d watched from the corner as Regina and her family left for the ball half an hour earlier. It had taken him that long to decide if he was going to search for the map while they were gone.

  He was still debating.

  After Farrin had complimented him on seducing his way into Wedmore House, Xavier felt queasy anytime he thought of searching for the map when he called on Regina. His intentions with her were honest, but this business with the map tainted everything. He just wanted the task behind him, so he could concentrate on discovering who was responsible for placing the ones he cared about in danger.

  His grip tightened on the crowbar as he approached the servants’ entrance. Before breaking another lock, he tried the handle and cursed when it opened without resistance. Not only had Regina disregarded his counsel on employing a manservant, she hadn’t barred the doors.

  He leaned the crowbar against the house and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. Skimming his hand along the wall to find his way in the dark, he located the servants’ staircase. Since Regina had interrupted him before he’d thoroughly searched Lord Wedmore’s private chambers, he would continue his search upstairs before visiting the earl’s study and library. If the ladies returned home before he was finished, a first floor escape would be easier. He just hoped the lady’s maid was visiting her sister again.

  Recalling his fall on these very stairs, he took more care with his footing than usual then hurried along the corridor toward Wedmore’s chambers. Whimpering and the scrape of nails came from behind a closed door. Cupid must have gotten stuck in one of the bedchambers when the ladies left for the evening. He briefly considered setting him free then thought better of it. The dog would only cause a delay with his persistent begging for attention.

  The uncovered windows in the master’s chamber allowed enough light for him to make out the shadows of the massive Tudor bed and wardrobe. He crossed to the mantle to retrieve the tinderbox and candle he’d noticed the other day and worked to light the wick. Once the flame flickered to life and burned steady, Xavier carried the candle to the desk. He jerked open the top drawer only to discover an ebony hair comb and various cufflinks that appeared to have no match. Drawer after drawer held nothing of interest, not even a stack of foolscap.

  Snatching the books stacked on the desk, he grabbed the top one by its cover, flipped it upside down, and shook. No stray sheets fluttered from the pages. None of the books proved to be hiding a map.

  He pivoted on his heel, surveying the room. Searching the wardrobe again might uncover something he’d missed the other day, but he couldn’t afford to waste time. His gaze landed on the bed and his eyebrow inched up. Maybe Lord Wedmore preferred to keep the map close. He stalked toward the bed to check beneath the mattress. Cupid’s high-pitched bark shattered the quiet. The floorboards groaned as someone briskly moved along the corridor, headed in his direction.

  Damn.

  Had Farrin sent another man after he’d agreed to wait? Xavier shouldn’t be surprised since the blackguard was a criminal.

  He blew out the candle, sprang toward the chamber door for a better defensive position, and bumped his thigh on Lord Wedmore’s side table. Something heavy banged against the floor.

  The footsteps stopped outside the chamber door.

  Xavier froze, not daring to make a sound as he waited for the enemy to decide if he’d heard something more than the dog barking. Every sound was amplified—the jagged whooshing of his breath, the pulsing beat of his heart in his ears, and Cupid’s nails scraping wood in the room next door.

  When the handle jiggled, he leapt behind the door, prepared to attack. The door wafted open, but no one entered. Xavier held his breath, his muscles taut. He felt more than saw the man step into the room. There was a subtle shift in the air. It was warmer, electrified.

  Xavier pounced, trapping the intruder’s arms against his sides. A gasp tore from the man. He was a wiry fellow—small framed like a lad—but he bucked and clawed with the ferocity of a wild cat. His head slammed into Xavier’s chin. Pins of light burst in the darkness, and Xavier’s grip slipped. In the distance, Cupid’s barking grew frantic.

  The captive twisted in Xavier’s hold, and he clamped his arms tighter around the lad’s waist. A foot slammed into Xavier’s knee. He shouted in surprise as fiery pain radiated into his thigh and shin. They stumbled, Xavier fighting to stay on his feet. He lost the battle. They careened forward to slam against the edge of the mattress.

  Xavier landed on top with his arms trapped between his opponent and the bed. His face was buried in silky hair that smelled faintly of oranges, and the soft mounds of a well-formed derriere shimmied beneath him as his captive tried to break free.

  Merde! He’d captured a woman.

  Light flickered at the doorway followed by the ominous click of a gun cocking. “Step away from my niece, so I don’t accidentally shoot her instead.”

  Candlelight illuminated the gold spun hair of the woman beneath him. “Regina?”

  Her breath caught and she ceased her struggles. He eased his arms from around her waist, lifted his hands into the air, and cautiously turned to face Aunt Beatrice and her small pistol. Evangeline stood slightly behind her aunt with a candlestick raised to cast light into the room. Her eyes were round and her mouth agape.

  What the devil were they doing here? He’d seen them leave for the ball. They were supposed to be at the ball.

  “Madame, this situation is not as it seems. There has been a misunderstanding. An accident.”

  Regina moved behind him to sit on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t bear to look at her after what he’d done.

  Her aunt pursed her mouth into a tight circle and drew her wrapper tighter around her body. “I do not know what matter of conduct is practiced in America, Mr. Vistoire, but in England, we do not mistake assault for an accident. Evangeline, have Deacon retrieve a Runner.”

  Regina’s sister seemed oblivious to her aunt’s command and remained rooted to the floor.

  Aunt Beatrice waved the barrel of the firearm at him. “Move aside so there is no risk of shooting my niece if the pistol should fire by itself.”

  Her steely glare suggested it would be no accident if she shot him. Xavier swallowed hard. He wouldn’t allow Regina to be harmed. “All right, I am moving.” With his hands raised, he shuffled to the side.

  “Wait!” Regina bolted from the bed to place herself bet
ween him and her aunt’s pistol.

  “Regina,” he said with a growl.

  Aunt Beatrice averted her aim, pointing the barrel toward the floor. Xavier grabbed Regina by the shoulders and wrestled her behind him. Why couldn’t she just be agreeable for once? “Stay put.”

  Regina’s aunt frowned in their direction. “What is going on here? Regina, was this man trying to assault you or not?”

  “He was not. He...he was...”

  Aunt Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. “I see what was occurring now.”

  “It’s not what you think, Auntie.” Desperation clung to Regina’s words and drove him to protect her.

  “We are betrothed,” he blurted.

  Regina gasped.

  Aunt Beatrice and Evangeline must have been as shocked as she, because no one spoke for a long time. Eventually, Regina’s aunt found her voice.

  “Is this true, dearest? Because if it is not, I will see him taken to gaol.”

  “It’s true.”

  “You really are betrothed?” Aunt Beatrice’s mouth hinted at a smile. “Mind you, I do not approve of such activities before the vows are spoken, but I was young once.”

  “No, we weren’t—”

  Regina lightly punched him in the back. He grunted in surprise. She came forward, dropping her head and posing as a contrite young miss when she’d done nothing wrong. He ground his teeth in frustration. He didn’t want her family believing lies about her.

  “Forgive us, Auntie,” she said. “I only wanted to show Mr. Vistoire the wooden dummy Uncle Charles had built for me. It seemed only fair that my betrothed should be informed of my unusual interests.”

  Aunt Beatrice nodded. The firearm dangled in her limp hand at her side. “A wise choice. And what is Mr. Vistoire’s opinion of your Wing Chun?”

  “He approves.” Regina injected a good deal of enthusiasm into her lie. Not that he objected outright to her unladylike exercises, but they’d never had the conversation. “He wants to have a dummy built as a wedding gift. One I may take wherever we set up house. That is the reason I brought him above stairs, and then we—uh—we lost our heads.”