An Heir of Deception (The Elusive Lords)

by Beverley Kendall

  He’d soon received an introduction and had immediately struck up a conversation with her. And the things he’d learned had been very informative.

  Lucas cast an idle glance around. The house was typically English in appearance, as dwellings go, and a bit on the large scale. “I hadn’t intended to come back until the fall but when I didn’t receive a letter from your sister telling me she and Nicholas arrived safely, I thought it prudent to come early. I assume she did arrive safely, no?”

  Her welcoming smile cooled by several degrees.

  “Perhaps we should go to the drawing room to talk. I don’t believe the entry way is the appropriate venue to carry on this sort of discussion.” She spoke more formally now, her English accent crisp and more pronounced than her sister’s.

  Lucas removed his hat and followed her to the drawing room, while admiring the gentle sway of her hips and her nipped-in waist. God, he had almost forgotten how alluring she was.

  The drawing room was like the many he’d seen in aristocratic English homes, although this one was less formal—not quite as stuffy. The sofas, two in number, were covered in a tan fabric and the fireplace was of a dark wood and very grand.

  “Please, have a seat.” She motioned to the sofas and armchairs. “And yes, my sister and nephew arrived safely some weeks back.”

  Lucas waited until she was seated before he chose the armchair closest to her. He placed his hat on his lap. “Good, she had me worried. I take she was surprised to see you on your feet and quite well. Did she happen to mention she’d come because she thought you were in failing health?”

  Miss Catherine had the grace to wince. “No, she said nothing about it and should she ask, please tell her only that it was what you heard. You do not know the name of the person who relayed the information nor could you identify them even if they were thrust in front of you.” She looked nervous.

  During their initial conversation, he’d informed her he knew a woman who could be her identical twin named Charlotte, and Miss Catherine had nearly pounced on him—which he hadn’t minded a bit. She pleaded with him to divulge her sister’s location, explaining that Charlotte had fled England years ago and that she and her brother were worried sick about her. She’d indicated all she wanted was for Charlotte to come home, even for a visit so they could see for themselves that she was well. Miss Catherine hadn’t mentioned her nephew and from that he’d taken she didn’t know he existed and had decided it wasn’t his place to tell her.

  Lucas had listened with interest but hadn’t wanted to betray Charlotte’s confidence and reveal her location, remaining mute when her sister had repeatedly asked. What if the same family worried sick about her was the reason she’d left? That is when she had switched tactics, telling him Charlotte would return if she thought she was sick—perhaps failing. That would prove she loved her family and had nothing to fear from them. This had swayed Lucas and he’d finally agreed—she had pled so prettily—to tell Charlotte he’d heard her sister was very ill.

  “I will not betray your trust. The truth of it is I had my own reasons for participating in the deception. Whenever Charlotte did speak of her family and England—which wasn’t often—she became very emotional. I could see it pained her. I assumed she and her family were estranged. Then I met you and it became clear she was loved and missed. I thought this might help her.”

  Catherine couldn’t decide whether to be miffed with Mr. Beaumont that he hadn’t come to call on her or allow herself to experience that moment of pleasure that had all but consumed her when she’d spotted him across the front door.

  Had he not felt the connection when they met? She had opened up to him as she had no other. And he had been utterly charming—and handsome. His voice, so different from English gentlemen, entranced her. And when was the last time she’d seen a man with hair the color of his eyes, the color of rich chocolate? God help the woman he fixed his gaze upon.

  God help me.

  Then a thought struck her. “I failed to ask you when we first met, but what kind of business are you in?”

  Mr. Beaumont produced a lazy smile that only served to make him ever more appealing. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “I dabble a little in this and that,” was all he said.

  If Catherine thought that in pressing him on the matter he would elaborate, she may have done but he appeared content to let his cryptic answer stand.

  “Charlotte is home, so it appears I am in your debt.”

  His smile turned positively predatory, which normally would have dampened his appeal, but she felt her pulse quicken in response, her nipples pebbling beneath her silk chemise and dress.

  “I believe I like the sound of that,” he drawled in a voice that had the effect of reducing a woman to mush.

  She rarely blushed but the heat flooding her face told her she was doing so now.

  “Well, if you have come to see Charlotte, she lives on the neighboring estate with her husband.”

  No one could confuse the startled look in his eyes or the way his head snapped straight up for anything but surprise. And that is when the knot of dread wrapped itself about her stomach.

  No. Oh no, please, let him not be interested in Charlotte.

  “Charlotte is married?”

  Catherine nodded. “Are you by any chance interested in my sister, Mr. Beaumont? It has just occurred to me that you’ve traveled a great distance to reassure yourself of her well-being.” She quite literally braced herself for his answer, her hands lightly gripping the smooth edge of the sofa. She was and had been from the moment they met, wildly attracted to him.

  He shook his head. “No. No, there is nothing like that going on between us. As I told you when we met, your sister and I are no more than good friends. I simply combined a business trip with my personal interest.”

  Since it would be unseemly at this point to reveal her feelings, Charlotte merely nodded for she did believe him.

  “Charlotte is married to Nicholas’s father.”

  Mr. Beaumont’s eyebrows rose as if that was news to him. “Indeed?”

  “Yes, indeed. If you’d like, I can accompany you to see her. As I said, she lives on the neighboring estate, which is only a quarter hour by carriage.” She wanted his company, Catherine wasn’t afraid to admit it—to herself. When was the last time she’d been this attracted and frankly intrigued by a man? Truth be told, never.

  His smile returned like the sun’s after being covered briefly by a cloud, full and winsome. “Thank you. I would like that very much.”

  Catherine’s stomach became weightless as she stood. “Then I shall get a wrap.”

  Following suit, he rose to his feet and towered a good head above her. His eyelids lowered to half-mast, causing her stomach to plunge down to the soles of her feet. For a moment, she felt unsteady, a little lightheaded. With his hat in one hand, he reached out and caught her elbow with the other. The touch of his bare flesh on her sent a bolt of heat through her.

  “Are you all right?” It came out aw-right, which she found positively delicious sounding.

  “For a moment I thought you were going to fall.” He didn’t release her elbow even though she was in no danger of falling—at least from her feet.

  “I must have stood too fast,” she mumbled. No doubt he was well aware of the effect he had on women. If Catherine didn’t know with one hundred percent certainty how much her sister loved Alex, she’d have thought better of his assertion that the two shared just a friendship.

  He slowly released her, leaving Catherine bereft of his touch. When she’d first met him, she’d found him attractive beyond words but days later after she’d learned he’d returned to America, she’d questioned his appeal. Surely he could not have been everything she’d initially thought. She’d convinced herself it must have been the variegated lighting that made him appear more handsome and that in the cold light of day she’d feel much different should she see him again.

  She could not have been more wrong. The ligh
t of day only further enhanced his appeal. The light of day also confirmed that she was more attracted to him than ever.

  Catherine had never set out to attract a gentleman. Firstly, she’d never found one worthy enough to put forth the effort. Secondly, she’d always been wary of her brother’s set, finding them to be a lofty lot. Lastly, she’d never felt like this, her insides tingling, her body coming alive at the thought of a man’s hands touching her. Mr. Lucas Beaumont did that to her and it was an invigorating experience.

  “Will you be staying long in London, Mr. Beaumont?” she asked, slanting a coy glance up at him.

  “Lucas. My friends call me Lucas.”

  Even better. “Lucas.”

  His brown eyes heated as he peered down at her. “I believe I will, Miss Catherine.”

  “Please, Catherine only will do.”

  The first footman found Charlotte going over the menus for the week with Mrs. Henderson, the housekeeper, and informed her that Miss Catherine awaited her in the morning room.

  The servants had been told Charlotte was always in for family and that they should be taken there and not the drawing room as with all other callers—not that they had many.

  Charlotte immediately abandoned her task and made her way to the room. Although she saw her sister quite regularly, they hadn’t spoken since the day before yesterday. And she could use a bit of company. Alex had taken Nicholas out for his daily riding lesson and once she completed the menus, she had very little to do. She had been seriously considering attempting a needlepoint sampler. She’d been reading so much her eyes were starting to cross.

  But she couldn’t be more pleased with the way things were progressing with Alex. He smiled more. Even Alfred had remarked in that very proper way of his, on how Alex’s manner had changed; how happier and more at ease his lordship appeared.

  Each evening for the past two weeks, he entered her bedchamber through the connecting door wearing a dressing robe, his body already stiff with need. The third night, Charlotte stopped donning her nightdress altogether, as he swiftly divested her of it not a minute after he arrived. True to his word, he’d begun using French letters. After five nights of that, they’d agreed she would try the Dutch cap, which proved to be a much more satisfactory experience for them both.

  In truth, she didn’t see him much during the day as he spent most of his time working or with Nicholas with whom he now shared a closer bond. As far as Nicholas was concerned, his father walked on water and could do no wrong.

  To win back his heart, if that was at all possible, she needed to gain his trust and that would take time. Certainly more time than it took to inflame his senses.

  “Katie, I’m—” Charlotte abruptly broke off speaking upon entering the room so effused in sunlight it took a moment for her to recognize Lucas standing beside her sister.

  “Lucas!” she exclaimed and rushed to him. Arms wide and laughing, Lucas embraced her, giving her a tight, comforting squeeze before setting her away. How she’d missed the deep, rich sound of his laugh.

  “It seems I was concerned for naught. When I didn’t receive the letter you promised, I began to worry. As I was to come here on business in September, I thought I’d come and see for myself that you and Nicholas arrived safely.” His smile was one of fondness.

  “Oh dear, I should have written the week I arrived. I only sent the letter three days ago. I’m sorry to have worried you.” Only the dearest of friends would have traveled so far to reassure themselves of her and Nicholas’s safety.

  Lucas gave a throaty chuckle. “No worries, I shall read it when I return home.” He turned to Katie. “Your sister was kind enough to accompany me here. You never mentioned how exceedingly beautiful she was, you merely said she resembled you.”

  Charlotte let out a highly amused laugh. “You are incorrigible.” Contrarily, her sister blushed the hot pink of desert flowers. Katie rarely blushed.

  Interesting.

  “How long will you be staying in England? Where are you staying?” Charlotte asked, motioning them to sit.

  Just then the door to the morning room banged open and one golden-haired bundle of energy charged in.

  “Mama, Papa let me ride the big horse by mysef.” He came to a halt with an almost comical abruptness. The excitement in his blue eyes reached near fever pitch when he spotted Lucas.

  “Unca Lucas.” With the ease of a spinning top, he changed direction and ran full tilt into Lucas’s arms, which were held outstretched in welcome. Nicholas was soon up high against Lucas’s chest, his small arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Mama didn’t tell me you was coming.”

  It was at that moment that Alex entered the room. Charlotte felt his presence before she actually saw him. More than that, she felt his disapproval and his anger before she saw it in his severe square-jawed countenance, the dimple in his chin doing little to lessen the effect.

  Nicholas looked over at his father, too excited to notice anything was amiss. “Papa, Unca Lucas is here.”

  Alex eyed the man holding his son and disliked him on sight. Never had he felt the physical urge to do a person such bodily harm. Had he been raised in the environs of St. Giles, no doubt he would have. Or ripped his son from his arms.

  “So I see,” he said coolly.

  Charlotte stepped forward and laid a hand on his chest as if attempting to placate him. That she saw the need for that told him much about her relationship with Uncle Lucas.

  “Alex, this is Lucas Beaumont, a friend from America. He has business in London and has called on us to make sure we arrived safely. Lucas, this is my-my husband, the Marquess of Avondale.”

  “It appears he is a good friend.” Alex barely acknowledged the man.

  And Mr. Beaumont, who would have to have been brain dead to sense Alex would have more welcomed the plague than his presence in his house, slowly lowered Nicholas to the floor then approached him, hand extended in greeting. More fool he.

  “Lord Avondale.” He gave a brisk nod and let his hand hover another moment before dropping it to his side when it became obvious it would not be accepted.

  Both sisters emitted identical sounds of horror. The joy on his son’s face quickly faded. Nicholas knew something wasn’t right and could feel the tension in the room. Alex felt a pinch of guilt at that. His son’s happiness was paramount but this man….

  “Well as you can see, Mr. Beaumont, my wife and son are well.” Now he hoped the man would take the hint and go back from whence he came.

  “Er, yes, it would appear I have worried for nothing.”

  “And when will you be returning to America?” Alex asked baldly.

  Charlotte eyes widened. “Alex!”

  No one breathed and no one spoke. Even his talkative son was mute and wide-eyed.

  Alex stared hard at Mr. Beaumont. He may have had their company these last five years but they were with him now. Moreover, Alex detested this practice of his son calling the man uncle as he was no relation to either Charlotte or himself.

  With a delicate clearing of her throat, Charlotte said, “Alex, may I have a private word with you?” But she wasn’t issuing a request, it was a steely demand sugar-coated in a soft, feminine voice.

  Well that was fine with him. He had some things he needed to say to her, which didn’t require an audience. They departed the room together and didn’t speak until she’d closed the door of the library.

  “Alex, you were unbelievably rude to Lucas,” she said sharply. “He is a dear friend who has, at considerable effort and, dare I say, inconvenience, come to ensure mine and your son’s safety. At the very least, I expect you to be civil to him.”

  “If he’s such a dear friend, why have you not mentioned him before? Why was he not mentioned once when we’ve conversed about your life in America? You cannot possibly claim you hadn’t ample opportunity to do so. We’ve been spending at least half the day in each other’s company and every single night in your bed.”

  Charlotte opened her mout
h as if to protest but after a moment snapped her mouth closed.

  Her silence only served to fuel his anger, his sense of betrayal. “Was it because he was your lover in America?” Even had they still been estranged, their relationship not as warm as it currently was—or had been—no man would countenance his wife’s lover calling on her at his own home. He would not tolerate such staggering degrees of audacity.

  “Lucas is my friend. He has never been nor will ever be my lover.”

  And she addressed him as Lucas, not Mr. Beaumont. Another emotion he refused to identify seethed green and hot. Did she truly expect him to believe her? Despite the man being an American, Alex knew he was just the type of man ladies swooned over. He had a cocky air about him that some may mistake as charm and women fell like stones over his kind of looks. And as for Charlotte, there wasn’t a chance the man hadn’t found her desirable, hadn’t tried to lure her into his bed. Not a chance in this world. He’d wager his entire fortune on that.

  “Then let me phrase it differently. Is he interested in you or has he ever been?”

  Her mouth opened and closed several times but no sound emerged. After more time elapsed with her stumbling about trying to find just the right thing to say, she said, “It is not like that a’tall.”

  “Then please do enlighten me,” he invited on a mocking drawl.

  “He may have been interested when we first met, but very soon after he realized we were meant to be friends and nothing more.”

  “And he came to this realization on his own?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest and widening his stance.

  She averted her gaze and swallowed. “Perhaps my response may have had something to do with it.”

  “Not surprising,” he murmured. He couldn’t deny the feeling of relief that washed over him. He believed her when she said she’d never slept with the man. Not that it should matter to him, what she did and with whom when they were apart. But he wouldn’t deny that it did. It mattered to him greatly no matter how irrational it may sound.