Midnight Temptations With a Forbidden Lord

by Tiffany Clare

  “We will be leaving together tomorrow.”

  “But the house party will have concluded by the weekend. Can we not stay as long as that?”

  “Don’t argue with me. I’ve had to push up your engagement to cover the scandal that’s already stirring talk in London. It was too much to ask for Lady Hargrove to keep her mouth shut. She’s told anyone of worth what’s transpired.”

  Her mouth dropped open with his cool announcement. With a ferocity quite unlike her, she suddenly despised the older woman who had taken her under her wing when she was only a child.

  With her anger came a realization to what her father said. “What exactly does pushing up the engagement entail?”

  Her father puffed out his chest, his pride so crystal clear she knew what he was going to say before the words passed his lips, and she silently screamed on the inside. “The banns will be read this coming Sunday. You’ll be married before summer ends.”

  “Papa, it’s too soon. You promised me one season.” Tears threatened to fall, but she swallowed against them. Her father disliked tears more than anything, and crying would have him sending her back to her room without argument.

  “I know, dear, but the circumstances surrounding our family … The scandal arising from this might blacken our name.”

  He shook his head as though he were at a loss for words—well, that made two of them. How could she possibly find a way out of her current circumstance?

  “Papa.” She felt her heart drop in her chest. Marry in four weeks’ time? She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She pressed her fist to her chest, unable to take in a decent breath. This was the very thing she feared he’d come to the countryside to tell her. It was the worst of her imaginings.

  “I’ve already discussed the sordid situation with Mr. Warren. We’ll make preparations for an intimate wedding party—family only,” he clarified with a stern look. “Your grandmamma is eager to make all the preparations and her sister has agreed to stay on to help with the wedding arrangements.”

  She could swear she saw black dots floating across her vision and blurring her sight. Her laces were too tight, and she wanted them off, but she was trapped. Trapped. She felt faint. This was so wrong. This was all wrong. She needed to get word to the marquess. But it wouldn’t be safe to do so now; her father would certainly be watching all the post coming in.

  She’d have to send her maid to the nearest posting inn as soon as she returned to her room.

  “Calm yourself, my darling.”

  He squeezed her shoulder as though it would comfort her. The only thing that could possibly comfort her at the moment was a repeat of yesterday—when everything was still carefree and any unpleasantness in the distant future.

  “The gossips will leave you alone when you are married to such an honored member of society. And when Mr. Warren takes his seat in the House of Lords next to me, you’ll be the talk of Town, my darling girl. Just imagine, you’ll be as respected as the Countess of Carleton.”

  Her father was beaming. How could he be so blind to her panic-stricken state?

  She really did think she might faint, yet what she needed to do was escape this place. Escape her father. Run as fast as she could from Mr. Warren. She could not marry him. Would not. How dare he agree to any such arrangement with her father when he disliked her as much as he did. He was a cruel, stupid, selfish man.

  “You look pale, child.” He stood above her, worry carved in the lines of his aged face. “Do you need water? Should I call in another of the ladies to assist you?”

  She attempted to stand, but her head spun and her vision was so compromised that she was forced to seat herself back on the settee and take a calming breath. She must control her emotions. She must act the perfect daughter—no matter where her thoughts wandered.

  She took in a slow, deep breath and felt marginally better as she reined in her emotions. She would find a way out of the marriage her father had his mind set upon.

  With one final deep breath, she felt her nerves slowly calm. She would make it through today just as she had every other normal day. Her anger and resolve to find a solution slowly replaced the fear that had momentarily crippled her.

  “I’ll be fine, Papa. This has all been such a shock that I can’t think of what to say or do.” Her voice was firm. “I’m sorry if I alarmed you.”

  Her father sat next to her on the settee. “I understand.” He pulled on one of her corkscrew curls at her temple, and let it bounce back up and hit her cheek. “I’m so sorry I ever allowed that woman into our midst. Had I known or even guessed at the scandal that would fall at our feet…”

  She reached for his arm and squeezed it reassuringly. “Don’t apologize.”

  She stood slowly this time and didn’t feel any dizziness. She couldn’t listen to such talk against her cousin a moment longer. Taking her father’s hand once she was finally steady on her feet, she gave him a sad smile.

  “I need to rest, Papa.”

  “We’ll get through this,” he said reassuringly.

  She wasn’t inclined to believe him. “I’ll see you for dinner, Papa. Just think about delaying our departure till the end of the week. There will be gossip surrounding us no matter when we leave; more speculation could arise from leaving the Carletons early. What if the gossips should think I was involved in some wrong-doing if I’m removed from the house before the party ends?”

  Her father shook his head. “I should never have let you come here.”

  “You could not refuse the invitation,” she reminded him, which was the complete truth.

  “Go on up and rest,” he finally said. “I’ll see you down to dinner.”

  She leaned closer to her father so she could kiss his cheek—she was rewarded with a smile. How she hated herself for the betrayal she would deliver to her father. But it must be done. He could withstand a moment of irritation compared to a lifetime of sorrow for her. Couldn’t he?

  When she had made her way to her room and locked the door behind her, she went to her writing desk without delay. Could she safely send one final note to the marquess? Her engagement had gone from being announced on her return to London to banns being read this very Sunday.

  What kind of person did it make her that her first thoughts when her father explained the situation had not been of Genny but of the marquess. Genny would weather this incident, whatever it was she’d been caught doing. Charlotte liked to think she’d come to know Lord Barrington during the past few weeks, and there was no question in her mind that the earl would do everything in his power to protect Genny.

  The marquess needed to know everything that had transpired. Would he find a solution to her problem now that her situation was so dire? Or would he walk away knowing there was little he could do to stop her upcoming marriage? There was only one way to find out.

  * * *

  Tristan had grown fond of the letters he and Charlotte exchanged. Though there hadn’t been that many, they were quickly filling up the top drawer of his desk. His little temptress was a witty and amusing woman. But the last few letters had him worried and anxious for more news than she provided. Her most recent letter was more worrisome than ever. He looked down at the parchment that had been sitting on his desk the entire afternoon.

  My friend,

  It’s with great urgency that I write you this letter. Scandal has finally touched the Carleton summer party and my father has come to escort me home earlier than anticipated. I do not know what I can ask of you, but I need your help to stop my marriage in four weeks’ time to Mr. W____.

  I’m at a loss as to how to accomplish my goal in so short a time, so I must turn to you for guidance. In all likelihood, I’ll be home before Saturday. Can we see each other as we have in the past?

  Do not write another letter, for any mail will certainly be intercepted before it finds its way to my morning tea tray. I will come to you soon. Please don’t abandon our plan now that the timeline has shifted and come so soon.

  Yours
,

  Char

  So she was in a bit of a pickle. And he apparently was to be her knight in shining armor. What in bloody hell was he supposed to do? Steal her away from the Carletons? Whisk her out from under her father’s nose when they arrived back in Town? He liked Charlotte; he didn’t want her to have an unpleasant marriage. His original plan was looking more and more appealing, but he wondered how Charlotte felt about that.

  Opening the drawer in front of him, he tossed the newest letter on top of the rest. What if he petitioned for her hand? He nearly snorted. Her father wouldn’t allow him entry into his house. There was no hope in hell he’d be given a fair opportunity to court her.

  Did he want a courtship?

  “What has you thinking so hard?” His sister stood in the doorway. Her gray, high-necked dress with its lace fichu was unflattering, but perfect for a governess, he supposed—although she was not a governess.

  Odd that he hadn’t heard her open the door to the study. Was he so worried about Lady Charlotte’s predicament that the outside world couldn’t penetrate his thoughts?

  “A friend is in difficulty,” he said. “I’m trying to find a solution but I’m not having any luck. Which, you must admit, is highly unusual for me.”

  Bea stepped into the room and walked toward the chairs that flanked his wide mahogany desk. “Is this a female friend or a male?”

  He smiled. His sister knew him too well. “I suppose that would make all the difference to you.”

  She stood before him, fingering the edge of the ornate molding of the desk. “I do sort the mail, you know. I’ve always done so at your request.”

  “So you haven’t failed to notice the letters coming from Hertfordshire.” Why was she fishing for information? It wasn’t like Bea to act coy; she usually asked him outright about anything she wanted to know.

  “She doesn’t write her name on the envelope, which is always a clear sign that she does not want her letters discovered. Is it the same woman I found you with in the kitchen?”

  Tristan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. He realized he should have taken better care to protect his and Charlotte’s correspondence.

  “I’ve also noticed that you haven’t been catting around for some time,” his sister said with a cheeky grin.

  He raised one eyebrow at her comment. Did his sister take note of everything he did? Since she ran the household, in all likelihood there was little she wouldn’t notice. Damn. He should be more careful regarding Lady Charlotte.

  “Yes, it is the same woman you saw in the kitchen. And I don’t cat around.”

  “Do you want to discuss her?” Bea sat in a chair opposite him, clearly not intending to let him say no.

  “You’re exasperating,” he said. “I really wish you wouldn’t meddle in my private affairs.” A frown formed on his face.

  “Is she more than a friend to you? Or just a passing amusement?”

  “You’ll not let this go, will you?”

  “You could marry, you know. Start a family.”

  “I have a family.”

  “I know. But you’ll eventually need an heir.”

  He sat forward, elbows resting on his desk as he stared back at his sister, shocked by her suggestion. “Are you afraid I won’t want you in my life anymore?”

  His sister’s expression became somber. “There will come a time when you marry, brother. And at that point, we three may not be wanted.”

  “That won’t happen, Bea. Don’t think for a moment that I would allow anyone to dictate what I should and shouldn’t do, especially where my family is concerned.”

  “Only time will tell.” Bea stood. “I came here to invite you to the sitting room. Ronnie painted the most beautiful garden scene and you must see it.”

  Tristan walked around the desk, and side by side he and Bea went up to the sitting room the children occupied for their lessons. He had a couple of days to decide what to do about Lady Charlotte. And maybe his sister did have a valid point about marriage.

  * * *

  The last thing Charlotte wanted to do on her return home was face Mr. Warren. Her father had given her no warning that her affianced expected to see her the moment she returned, and that betrayal was like a heavy weight around her heart.

  Once her valises were brought up to her room, her maid helped her change out of her travel-worn clothes. She took her time readying herself, even after another maid had come to inform her that Mr. Warren had arrived, was speaking with her father, and had requested an audience with her in ten minutes. He wished to discuss appearances that they were to make together about Town in the coming weeks. She took thirty minutes to have her hair redone and had a cup of chamomile tea to settle her nerves.

  Finally ready to face her foe, she all but glided into the parlor where Mr. Warren and her father sat. They both stood on her entry.

  “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Traveling does not agree with me, and my dress did not fare well in the carriage back from Hertfordshire.”

  She approached her father and kissed his cheek. “Dearest,” he said. “You cannot keep your guests waiting so long.”

  “I apologize, I know it was dreadful of me, but the last few days have been arduous.” She nodded to Mr. Warren.

  “My lady,” he said coolly.

  She’d angered him with her tardiness once again. Good.

  “I’ll leave you two for a moment to discuss your nuptials.” Her father took Mr. Warren’s hand, and offered a nod of farewell. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the club.”

  “At the scheduled time.” Mr. Warren bowed cordially to her father before he left the parlor. Charlotte didn’t like being alone with Mr. Warren. Her father served as a barrier; it was as though his presence offered a bit of protection.

  “I’ve already said that unnecessary delay is one of the great faults that I disapprove of in anyone.”

  Of course he wouldn’t offer her a civil word or ask how her trip had been. He disapproved of the Carletons as much as her father did.

  “You’ll have to get used to it, Mr. Warren. I find it difficult to work up any sort of courage to sit with you.”

  “So you insist on making our marriage miserable?”

  “I think that is your preference, sir.”

  “I could care less.” He waved away the harsh words as though her opinion mattered not. “I’ll soon have the Fallon estates at my disposal and will require a wife to run those households. It won’t be difficult to see very little of each other.”

  “You should wait till the seat is rightfully yours to take.”

  “You know what has precipitated our marriage. And waiting makes me wonder if I will have a wife tainted by scandal—that would be unacceptable to me.”

  “You don’t think I’m tainted by my cousin’s recent actions? She was my chaperone and she was thoroughly compromised. And as distracted as she was, who was to say I didn’t find trouble of my own?”

  He came forward and grabbed her upper arms in a strong grip, a look of rage filling his storm-ridden gray eyes. His grasp was firm, but it did not hurt—he was proving his superiority, that he had the control in their current situation. Without a doubt he had only to release a little more pressure to cause her a great deal of pain. His actions were meant to intimidate her. She was not easily cowed and glared back at him, daring him to do his worst.

  “Are you suggesting you are not pure, Lady Charlotte?”

  She shrugged. “I’m merely pointing out that there are so many things that can taint a lady’s view on life.”

  He released her and paced angrily away.

  “There are so many young women you could marry. You haven’t given me an adequate reason for why I have to be that unfortunate woman.”

  He stormed back toward her, his face only a few inches away from hers. He was clearly seething. “Because I prefer to marry a woman I despise.”

  She gasped, taken off guard by the honesty. Who in their right mind would ever wa
nt such a thing? “I think you mad, sir.”

  “No more than you. It won’t matter once we’re married. After we make the obligatory appearances around Town, you’ll be sent to my cottage in Yorkshire.”

  “I will not be shipped off.” She was shouting now and stopped to take a calming breath. She could not allow him to get under her skin. He wouldn’t matter, and her marriage would be a moot point once she paid a visit to the marquess. She had to remember that.

  Mr. Warren gave her a dispassionate smile. “You’ll do exactly as I bid.”

  “Would you even try to like me as a friend?” She wanted to know for the sake of curiosity. Surely there was some redeemable quality in this man.

  “You are not a friend, madam, you are to be my wife; they are two very different things. I do not care to have a loving relationship with the woman who only needs to bear children for the sake of the title.”

  “You’re a callous, cold man.”

  “I’ve been called worse,” he said matter-of-factly. “There is nothing you can say to change this outcome.”

  “You’re right, of course.” She’d not let him believe she had a plan to change that. An ill-formed plan, but at this point it was better than nothing.

  Mr. Warren seemed taken aback by her assent. He gave her a sharp look. Was he looking through the lie and seeing her deceit? Her stomach balled up into a knot as she waited for him to say something.

  “Finally, we agree on something.”

  She released the breath she’d been holding.

  “Then there’s nothing else to be said. Shall I bid you a good day, Mr. Warren?”

  “I will pick you up at precisely ten on Sunday. I’ll be in an open carriage, so we can ride to church together.”

  “I always attend with my grandmother.”

  He raised a hand to stop her complaint. “She’ll arrive with your father. This will be an important day and also the first day the banns will be read for our upcoming wedding.”

  No, the banns would not be read.

  She ducked her head, afraid her expression would give away her intended deception. “Until Sunday, then.”