An Heir of Deception (The Elusive Lords)

by Beverley Kendall

  “Mine.”

  “Yours.” She regarded him through half-closed eyes, tilting her hips to encourage his hand to venture lower.

  Alex needed no further encouragement, his fingers finding her wet and welcoming. Her legs fell open to his touch as he tested her readiness.

  She was ready. And hot.

  He was inside her within seconds and groaned at the snug, wet heat. Somewhere in the back of Alex’s mind, he knew he should take it slow given her condition. But being inside her felt too good, too right. So while his mind told him to be gentle with her, his body urged him to take her hard and fast. His body won.

  And Charlotte wasn’t content to merely be on the receiving end of his hard thrusts and deep strokes. No, she gave fully in return, her hips thrusting back with just as much rigor to meet his thrusts dead-on.

  The pressure in his cock grew and the pleasure became nigh on intolerable until she shuddered in release beneath him, her sex pulsating around his. An orgasm wracked his body with an intensity that wiped his mind blank of everything but sensation.

  The next thing he knew, he was on his back trying to catch his breath. God, had he actually passed out?

  “I love you.”

  Alex turned his head at the throaty declaration. She looked well-loved and sated. Naked and flushed, just the way he liked her—and on her back.

  “Not nearly as much as I love you,” he replied pulling her to him for a soft, lingering kiss.

  Charlotte could have lain like this with him forever, aglow in the aftermath of their exquisite lovemaking. She was certain it couldn’t get better than this.

  “Catherine is hurting.”

  Why must he bring that up now? “She hurt me,” Charlotte countered.

  “She deeply regrets what she did.”

  “How quickly you are able to forgive her,” she groused, only slightly aggravated by the fact.

  “That’s because I’m not in love with her. Had I felt like she’d ripped my heart from my chest and left me a broken man, believe me I wouldn’t be so kind.” He tweaked her nipple with his thumb.

  She gave a low moan. The surge of heat between her legs was positively shameless. Had he not just pleasured her unconscious?

  “You know I cannot remain upset with her forever. Though I can’t find it in my heart to forgive her just yet. What she did wa-was so very wrong. I never imagined she’d be capable of something like that.”

  “I don’t imagine she did either,” he said, stroking the under curve of her breast.

  It was damnably difficult to think when he insisted on touching her like that. Still she angled toward him in hopes of encouraging him more.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Alex sat in the drawing room of his parents’ cottage, River Court, and cursed the day he’d listened to his mother. When his father had summoned him, Alex had remembered the promise he’d made to his mother. And since, according to Charlotte, his mother’s attitude toward her was ten degrees warmer than civility, he’d acquiesced without a fuss.

  But she’d assured him she would be in residence when he arrived. That had been a barefaced lie. The duke was his only parent in attendance. Alex had almost climbed back into the carriage once he realized there’d be no buffer between them as there’d always been in the past.

  It had been the look in the duke’s eyes that had stopped him. For the first time in his memory, the duke hadn’t looked as if he couldn’t wait to see the back of him. His neutral expression may very well have been taken for unadulterated giddiness so severe was it usually.

  With a tumbler of rum in hand, the duke crossed the dark planked floors to recline in the armchair closest to where Alex sat on the sofa.

  “How’s the boy?” the duke asked and took a drink from the glass.

  “Nicholas is adjusting well.”

  Pleasantries. This was uncharted territory and Alex wasn’t quite certain how to maneuver these unfamiliar roads.

  The duke gave a grunt and nodded. “Your cousin will let the matter of your marriage papers die if I give him five thousand pounds.”

  Alex wasn’t the least surprised at his cousin’s demand. Henry had always been a money-grasping little worm.

  “I hope you don’t intend to pay him one shilling.”

  “If I believed it would save us the ordeal of a public trial and my grandson his future title, I would. But I know my nephew. He’d never be satisfied with that. He’d only come back for more. So I am prepared to do whatever else I must to ensure your marriage is upheld and your son remains your heir. Mr. Graham is a decent chap and very ambitious. I’ve had him over for supper several times. ”

  Ah! So his father had befriended the register general, the man in charge of the registration of births, deaths and marriages in England and Wales. That explained why, thus far, there didn’t appear to be any problems with his marriage papers. This kind of support from the duke was rarer than a solar eclipse, the last which occurred some thirteen years ago. Alex couldn’t remember once in his thirty-four years ever being offered it. But, he reminded himself, this had more to do with his brother than even Nicholas or himself.

  Alex shifted in his seat, unaccustomed to going this long in his father’s company without anger and animosity overtaking the discussion.

  “I pray that also means better treatment of my wife.” For her, he’d risk breaking the tenuous cease fire that currently existed between himself and the duke.

  However, his father was intent on surprising him on all fronts today, merely grunting before taking another drink of his rum. As it wasn’t an out and out refusal, that meant he’d agreed. Had Alex not been sitting, he might have fallen over.

  The next ten minutes were the most excruciating Alex had ever experienced. Their conversation went in fits and starts like a rail train that hadn’t enough steam to propel it along. They spoke of nothing of consequence: the duke’s seat in Yorkshire, how the cost of upkeep on his various properties had almost doubled in the last ten years. As he could find little in the way of adding to the conversation, Alex remained silent much of the time.

  Finally, his father, who too appeared fatigued from the effort, rose to his feet to signal the end of the visit.

  Relieved, Alex stood. His father stuck out his hand. For a brief moment Alex stared at it, so unexpected a gesture was it. He couldn’t remember ever voluntarily touching his father much less shaking his hand. But he did and in two short pumps, the contact was over.

  His father’s hand wasn’t as soft and clammy as he’d always thought it would be.

  “Good day, Father,” Alex said with a curt nod.

  His father nodded in response and Alex started toward the door.

  “Next time you come, bring the boy.”

  “Make sure you have toys for him to play with. He likes trains,” Alex tossed over his shoulder as he exited the room.

  The following week, Charlotte, unable to sit, stood in her brother’s drawing room. She would admit to being nervous—an unheard of occurrence when pertaining to calling on her own twin sister. But they had been at an impasse the past week.

  Katie had called upon her three times after sending two letters begging an audience. Charlotte hadn’t been prepared to speak with or see her. Her betrayal had more than wounded her, it had crippled her.

  But with the wedding two weeks away, she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of her marrying with the two of them estranged.

  The last word she’d ever use to describe Katie was timorous but that was precisely how she would describe the manner in which her sister entered the drawing room. Anxious and looking as woebegone as a child newly orphaned. She offered a tentative smile as if terrified anything broader would be rejected out of hand.

  “Hello, Lottie. I’ve missed you.”

  Charlotte felt a pinch in her heart. She hated to see her sister so heartbroken knowing the strife between them was the cause. Which was silly since it was Katie who had set the whole thing in motion.

  �
��I do not want to fight with you. I shall be getting married in two weeks and being away from you for five years is long enough.”

  As if she’d been thrown a life boat, a relieved smile spread across her sister’s face. “I hate it when we aren’t speaking.”

  “I love you dearly, but I’m still angry with you. I don’t know when I shall be able to forgive you.”

  “I understand.” Katie spoke softly, glancing down at the floor. “I’m more than a little ashamed of myself and have lived with the guilt and regret since that day. I don’t know that I shall ever be able to forgive myself.”

  “Oh Katie.” Charlotte’s heart softened completely, unable to steel herself against her sister’s anguish. She closed the distance between them—literally and figuratively—and hugged her.

  “As Alex said, we cannot go back and it won’t do us any good to live in the past. Let us move on from that unfortunate time. We were both young and reacted too rashly. I must shoulder at least a portion of the blame. I should never have run or remained gone so long.”

  “You were doing what you thought best for all of us. I shan’t fault you for that and neither should you.” Katie had always been her staunchest defender.

  “Miss Foster has come by the house twice this week. She’s shared many stories about our mother.” Charlotte was trying to get her to come around more. She desperately wanted to get to know her better.

  “Yes, she told me. I called on her at her shop yesterday. I’m trying to convince her to move in here with us—tell everyone we loved her designs so much, we decided to keep a modiste as part of the staff. She simply will not have it. She claims to love her dress shop and her independence too much.”

  “You know she will never let us claim her.”

  “I know,” Katie replied. “I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

  “She is doing what she believes is right for us, which I understand.”

  Her sister nodded.

  A beat passed before a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Katie, I returned to England because Lucas told me you were failing. At one time I thought the person who wrote the letter also fabricated that story to get me home. But if it was you who wrote the letter….”

  Her sister lowered her gaze and her cheeks flushed a crimson red. She opened her mouth and a confession emerged in halting tones. Charlotte learned how Katie and Lucas had conspired together to get her to return to England.

  “I was extremely fortunate to have met Mr. Beaumont when I did. I was quite terrified that Alex would marry Lady Mary and all would be lost. I had to get you home. I think I would have done anything shy of murder to give you and Alex what I’d selfishly stolen from you. A chance to be together.” Katie held her gaze and Charlotte could see the guilt and despair, and the love in her eyes.

  “In this instance, I shall forever be grateful for your scheming and interference,” Charlotte said softly. She hadn’t slept properly those weeks she’d feared she’d lose her sister and had cried until not another tear could be wrung from her. But Charlotte would gladly go through it all again to have the life she presently had. A life with Alex and their son.

  Katie blinked rapidly and gave a delicate sniff. “It is the very least I could do. All I want is for you to be happy.”

  “I want you to be happy too. Oh Katie, I do worry about you,” Charlotte admitted, hesitant to broach the subject.

  “Do you fear I will be the maiden aunt with no husband or children of my own?” she replied lightly.

  “I want you to be happy. The men in Society are obviously blind.”

  “I have a confession to make.”

  Charlotte stared fixedly at her sister, a sinking sensation in her stomach. What would she tell her now?

  “I actually haven’t been the pariah I made myself out to be. I have had my share of suitors but I have done my best—and was very successful at it I might add—in discouraging them.” Her sister then listed three eligible lords most mothers would do a jig and kick their heels up to have them courting their daughters, who had courted her.

  “But why would you discourage their suit?” Charlotte’s mind boggled.

  “How could I marry and have a family when I denied you yours because of my childish jealousy? After what I did, I didn’t deserve to be happy.”

  A swell of love so big her heart could hardly contain it flooded her. It was just the sort of logic her sister would employ. And the sort of punishment she would deal herself.

  “Well, I am home and I have everything I ever wanted and more so you can stop punishing yourself and finally get the happiness you deserve.”

  Charlotte could tell by her sister’s faint smile that still she didn’t believe she deserved it, but Charlotte was determined that in time she would—no matter how long it took.

  Alex stood at the altar of St. George’s in Hanover Square waiting for the wedding march to commence. His new valet, whom Charlotte had insisted he hire now that the household had grown and Alfred had additional duties to manage, had tied his necktie too tight.

  Armstrong stood at his side, he swore, wearing the exact clothes he’d worn five years ago. Nicholas sat in the front pew flanked by Missy, Amelia, Elizabeth and Creswell. His parents, Rutherford’s younger brother, Christopher and Armstrong’s younger sisters, Sarah and Emily sat in the pew directly across. Jillian and Miss Foster hovered in the wings of the church, both refusing to join the guests fearing the scandal it may cause. Charlotte insisted they would attend a more intimate wedding breakfast at Gretchen Manor when they returned home. All parties had agreed on that.

  The music commenced and Alex saw only Charlotte walking toward him, as beautiful as he’d ever seen her in a cream silk wedding gown, on her head a veil artfully attached to a flowered bonnet. He took scant notice of Rutherford, who escorted her, or Catherine, who followed behind.

  Whispers immediately abounded in the boxed pews as guests murmured, nodded and smiled their appreciation. Absolutely stunning. What a beautiful duchess she will make. Is it true she is with child?

  Some needed to master the art of the whisper.

  Alex didn’t care, all he cared was that today he’d marry the woman of his heart, the woman of his dreams, the woman who would bear all his children. Today he would marry the woman he’d love for the rest of his life.

  Ten minutes later as he looked into her beautiful blue eyes, held her trembling hands in his and after they’d both recited their vows, he did.

  Epilogue

  “I suppose you’ll have to try for another.” Elizabeth smiled down at the latest addition to the Cartwright family curled up in her arms. “She’s breathtaking. And doesn’t look a thing like you.”

  Charlotte gazed lovingly at her two-month-old daughter, Rose, taking in her inky-black hair, pink cheeks and silver gray eyes. “No, she looks exactly like her papa. And don’t think he doesn’t crow over the fact.

  Already three months pregnant with their third child, Elizabeth hadn’t been able to come see Rose sooner until her morning sickness had abated sufficiently for her to travel. She and Derek had arrived earlier that day, braving the icy February winds of Reading.

  The men had recently adjourned to the billiard’s room, Nicholas was playing upstairs with Elizabeth’s children, and she and Elizabeth sat on the flowered chintz sofa with the winter sun flooding the morning room.

  “And the duke and the duchess, have they gotten over the disappointment of a granddaughter?”

  “For the duke, it may take a bit more time, although he’s happy Mr. Graham has authenticated our original marriage papers. Mr. Wentworth will not be filing a claim in court to challenge its validity, so Nicholas will inherit.”

  There had been much joy in the house when the duke had delivered the good news in person.

  “The duchess believes she now has the girl she’d always hoped for. I fear she’ll spoil the children dreadfully.”

  Charlotte smiled, still amazed how hers and the duchess’s relationship had chan
ged over the course of the year. They would never be the best of friends, but they rubbed along well enough. The duke still held himself aloof from her and it appeared that wouldn’t change but his relationship with Alex had vastly improved and for that she was grateful.

  Charlotte reached for an empty cup on the tea cart and noticed the letters Alfred had delivered earlier sitting on the side table. She’d put them aside with the intention of sorting through the various invitations that arrived daily at a later time. But the handwriting on the envelope on top caught her eye. She recognized it instantly.

  Lucas!

  It had been so long.

  With anxious fingers, she peeled the envelope open and drew out the letter. She read it quickly and gave a small gasp upon reading what he’d written in closing.

  Elizabeth raised one finely arched brow. “What is it?”

  “It’s Lucas. He’s returning to London next week.”

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