The Duchess Diaries: The Bridal Pleasures Series

by Jillian Hunter

  Audrey took in Charlotte’s face and figure. “I’ve a feeling he will not return.”

  Charlotte would make him sorry if he did, especially since she was ordering evening dresses and gauze night rails that only a courtesan would wear. She might not have convinced him not to forgo the duel. But she was determined to keep practicing her ways of persuasion. After all, she studied for years to be a lady. She didn’t expect to put less effort into becoming a wife.

  “Mrs. Watson,” she said, glancing around to make sure no one could hear them, “I am grateful for the information that Jane passed to me from you.”

  “Oh, good. I hope you’ll put it to use.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I already have.”

  Millie woke up screaming the moment that Nick put his hands to her throat. He leaned back, clapping his hands over his ears, and muttered, “Oh, my God, not you, too,” and fell back onto the pallet.

  She stared down into the bodice of the dress she hadn’t bothered to remove for bed. “What are you trying to do to me, Nick Rydell? I ’ad a bad enough time of it last night. Don’t you see these bruises—”

  “Look at it.” He sat up and fished the ornate sapphire necklace out of her cleavage. “I was trying to clasp it on you. I saw the bruises. Gimme his name and I’ll take care of the sod tonight. Can’t you find a better class of clientele?”

  She stared at him suspiciously. “ ’Ow much gin did you drink?”

  “None.”

  “What are we gonna do for money if I keep this thing?”

  He reached behind him for his trousers. “I didn’t say you could keep it. I only wanted to see what it looked like on you.”

  “You woke me up for that?” She thumped back onto her pillow, her arm covering her face.

  He pulled her arm down from her face. “Don’t let no one else see it. I’ll be back.”

  She studied him in curiosity. “You’re gettin’ rid of that book?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thank God. It was unnatural to see you readin’ every night.”

  “Well, it’s over.” He went to the door. “Don’t go to work tonight. I’m taking you to Vauxhall.”

  “I don’t ’ave a clean frock.”

  “I’ll find one.” His gaze strayed to the bruises on her neck. “Go to sleep. You look…I don’t know.”

  “Hey.” She sat up again, grasping the necklace in her hand. “I forgot to tell you. Your old friend Sir Daniel was lookin’ for you last night. I told ’im you was dead.”

  “Good girl.”

  “Threatened to ’ave me carted off if ’e saw me on the corner again.”

  “Time to rest up then.”

  “Rest?” She sank down again. “You shouldn’t read, Nick. I think that book made you go off upstairs.”

  He hesitated. He almost asked her whether what Barney had said was true. Maybe he didn’t want to know yet. But he did know that he couldn’t afford to sit about another day losing himself in a damn diary. Millie was right. It was unnatural. Ever since he’d started to read the thing, he’d slipped from his game. He wanted to be rid of it. He wanted his wrath back because without it someone harder would take his place on the streets.

  Chapter 36

  Charlotte looked at the bridal gown that hung from the wardrobe door. It was so beautifully made that she had fallen asleep last night staring at it. She could not wait to wear it for Gideon tomorrow at the wedding. And then, later that evening, to let him release her from the layers of figured silk and frothy lace.

  She touched the skirt like a talisman as she passed the wardrobe to enter the dressing closet. She had just heard one of the maids come in through the adjoining door, presumably to tidy the chaos that Chloe and Jane had created, bringing various shades of stockings to match the vibrant pink of the gown.

  She pushed open the door, a smile on her lips that vanished as soon as she saw a strange man sifting through the jewels on the chest of drawers. He spun around to face her.

  She gasped in recognition. “You. You’re the one I saw at the window.”

  He clasped his hands together. “Please don’t scream again. I’m not gonna ’urt a hair on your lovely ’ead. Just listen. I’m beggin’ you. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, her heart beating erratically in her throat. “What do you want?”

  “I brought you back your diary. Look. On the desk behind you. There it is. Not a page missing.”

  Her eyes lifted in disbelief. “You took my diary? You were the face in the window. But why? I don’t know you. Who are you? What could have possessed you?”

  “You ’ave a rival. She paid me to do a job, but I don’t like ’er. I like you.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her wits. “You shouldn’t like me. I have caused more trouble than you can believe.”

  He laughed. “Me, too. I never knew a lady had thoughts like you. I never looked at love like you do, if you know what I mean. All these things men and women do together, well, you made ’em sound pretty.”

  “No.” She felt a lightness spreading through her. “Yes, I do know, actually. And you’re not going to do anything horrible to me? I’m about to be married to the duke of my dreams, and even though he doesn’t love me, I have loved him since the day I first saw him.”

  “The duke’s a fortunate man.”

  “He won’t be if he finds me dead.”

  “Dead? Oh, love, you don’t understand. All I want is a dress and a token of your esteem given without a fuss.”

  “A token? What sort of token? Wait, don’t answer that. Did you just say that a lady paid you to steal the diary?”

  “That’s right. I can’t give you ’er name. But I started to read it, and I was moved by your passionate confessions.”

  Charlotte sensed he was omitting a crucial part of this story, but as long as he gave her the diary and didn’t hurt her, she would play along and make sense of it later. “You…were moved?” She lowered the fan she had covertly pulled from a half-closed drawer to protect herself if he laid a hand on her. “You mean someone paid you to steal my diary and you’re returning it because—”

  “Yeah. I’m losin’ money on this transaction. If anybody on the street ’ears what I’ve done, I’ll be laughed out of St. Giles.”

  She forced herself to look deeper than his scarred face and long hair and mouse gray coat. If he washed up, combed his hair, and put on a suit that fit, he could be presentable. He— Her thoughts froze. In the doorway that led into another bedroom was the new chambermaid who had passed Weed’s inspection. Their eyes met. She willed the girl to keep hidden.

  “You did the right thing,” she said, looking away from the door. He hadn’t seen the maid. Charlotte was afraid to upset him. Who knew how he might react? He made her so nervous that her mouth went dry. Perhaps if she was nice to him, he would go away. “I am proud that you listened to the voice of your conscience.”

  “Yeah, whatever that is. But I gotta go. All I want is a dress for my girl. Something pretty and frilly and light to wear out.”

  “I don’t know what would fit her,” Charlotte said, lowering the fan she had poised to attack. “Come with me to the wardrobe and pick, but please don’t touch my wedding dress.”

  So they went into the other room together to the French gilt armoire, and Charlotte managed to talk him into choosing a turquoise silk with beribboned sleeves and an embroidered hem. “I haven’t worn it. There’s room if she needs it. Just help her adjust the laces, and, of course, a good corset helps. Does she have anything to support her?”

  He frowned. “She goes to the Female Penitentiary Society from time to time and they give ’er some grub once in a while. But other than that, I pay for what she needs.”

  “No. I mean does she have a good corset? A garment designed to shape her unmentionable parts into— Oh, never mind. Is that all you want?”

  “I’ll take that ruby necklace on your dressing table as recompense for my time.”

 
; “It isn’t—” She nodded. It was worth a fortune. And yet Jane would have to understand.

  “So even young ladies like yourself want a man to whisper rude words while they’re making the two-backed beast?” Nick asked Charlotte, grinning at her.

  “I highly disapprove of this conversation.”

  “You’re the one who wrote about it.”

  “And look at all the trouble I have drawn upon myself and those I care about. Besides, writing about a private matters is not the same as discussing it. Don’t you understand the difference?”

  “Yeah.” He chuckled. “Ain’t the same as doin’ it, either. But you know all about that.”

  “I don’t, actually.”

  He winked, looking her over. “I’ll keep it secret.”

  “I would appreciate it.” She drew in a slow breath. “Do you have a name?”

  “It’s Nick. She’ll look nice in this,” he said, holding the dress Charlotte had chosen to his chest. “Not as nice as you, though.”

  Charlotte nodded. She would have pulled out every dress she owned and offered to make alterations if it kept him from hurting her. “She’ll look like a lady.”

  “Nah. It would take more than that, but maybe she’ll feel like a lady.”

  Charlotte lifted her gaze. The chambermaid hadn’t moved from the door. It was clear she realized Nick had broken in and didn’t belong. She looked petrified. Charlotte prayed she would stay calm and not do or say anything to set the thief off.

  It was all she could manage to encourage this alarming character to leave without making it obvious that he was deplorable company. Only then could she release her breath and take time to examine her diary and check for missing pages. “How are you leaving?” she asked, trying to keep her anxiety from her voice.

  “Out the window, closest to the tree,” he said.

  “Well, good luck,” she said, swallowing hard.

  “Yeah. Same to you. That duke had better do right by you.”

  “Yes. He’d better.”

  “Send Nick after ’im if he don’t.”

  How Charlotte managed to nod graciously at this disconcerting offer she did not know. She hadn’t the smallest doubt that Gideon would have challenged him on the spot.

  “Where is Charlotte?” Jane asked Weed, who had arrived before she had released the bell cord. “We were supposed to review the guest list together so she could help me to remember the correct titles.”

  Chloe breezed into the room, stunning in ice blue satin. “I just saw a footman go up to her room. Or he could have been on his way to Emma’s. She was supposed to be looking over the list with Charlotte, too.”

  Gideon turned from the window where he stood with Grayson watching Sir Christopher in the garden instructing Lord Rowan how to lunge.

  “I don’t mind going up to fetch her,” he said, hoping to take advantage of the fact that no one was paying more than token attention to anyone else. “No one objects?”

  “I do,” said Jane slyly. “And I’ve got my eye on you. This is the one time that we must exercise restraint and follow the rules.”

  Weed frowned. “There is no footman in her room. I have just finished a last-minute inspection of the livery of each servant for the wedding. The footmen have each been instructed to repowder their periwigs and brush off their coats.”

  Chloe’s forehead creased. “This footman was wearing street clothes, now that you mention it. He carried something in his hand. He seemed to be in a great hurry. I assumed someone had instructed him to go upstairs.”

  Gideon stared across the room. “Then who is he?”

  “Didn’t you have a present sent to her?” Chloe asked.

  “Yes. But Weed had it put away. I’m giving it to Charlotte on our wedding night.”

  “Thank you for bringing back the diary,” Charlotte whispered, her nerves frayed.

  “Thank you for writing it—and for the dress.” He doffed his cap.

  And at last he hurried to the window, the turquoise dress billowing like a parasol as he leaped onto the tree branch that grew under the window.

  “My stars!” Charlotte exclaimed, swinging around to face the maid. “Did he have to escape in full view of the drawing room windows?”

  “I’ll warn them,” the maid offered, and eagerly took off before Charlotte could explain that warning anyone in this house might do more harm than good.

  “Tell them to let him go! Oh, bother. I might as well go down and tell them myself.”

  The maid had already run to the top of the stairs and grabbed the valet, who was on his way up to lay out a change of clothes in Master Rowan’s room. “Hurry!” she said. “There was a strange man in Miss Boscastle’s room and he’s taken one of her dresses with him out the window!”

  “My God!”

  The valet ran downstairs and narrowly escaped colliding with the butler, who was carrying a tea tray to the drawing room. “Hurry! Get help! A thief broke into Miss Boscastle’s room. He’s stolen the dress she was wearing and escaped out the window!”

  The butler’s mouth dropped. “The dirty bugger! I’ll put Weed on it this minute.”

  And the butler bustled into the drawing room, where everyone was waiting for tea, and shouted at Weed, “Sir! Sir! A thief has broken into Miss Boscastle’s bedroom and jumped out the window wearing her wedding dress!”

  “What?” Gideon said, moving to the door. “Which window? Where is he going?”

  Jane grabbed his arm. “Go out into the garden to catch him.”

  “What about Charlotte? I ought to check on her.”

  “I’ll do it,” Jane said. “Grayson, put down that biscuit and go with Gideon.”

  But by the time Gideon and Grayson ran out into the garden with Weed and three other footmen, the thief had dropped from the tree to the wall and taken off pell-mell for the secret route to the stews. From the garden gate all one could make out of him was a billowing skirt in a lovely shade of turquoise blue.

  “I’m going to hunt him down,” Gideon said, unbuttoning his coat. “I want to strangle him.”

  Grayson shook his head. “You’ll have to wait until after the wedding, unless you wish to upset every woman in this house. You might not even have a wedding if you get into a brawl with a gang of thugs. We can hunt them down another time.”

  “But he’s wearing her bridal gown. How’s the wedding going to take place without it?”

  “He is not wearing her wedding dress,” Grayson said. “That’s a promenade dress, which he is holding under his arm, by the way.”

  “You’re right,” Gideon said, impressed by Grayson’s knowledge of female costume. “Look, I don’t care about protocol. I need to see Charlotte with my own eyes. If only for a few moments, and I swear I’ll be good.”

  A firm but gentle voice entered the conversation. “You cannot see her now,” Emma said. “However, I have just intercepted her in the hall. She is preparing for a bath to calm her nerves. She is shaken but otherwise perfectly fine and in good spirits.”

  He frowned. “Then I should have followed my instincts and chased after him. What did he want with her to begin with?”

  “He returned the diary,” Emma said with a sigh of relief. “Now it is onward to the wedding, and may it please heaven that nothing else threatens that event.”

  Gideon stared at the garden wall. “The diary was brought back by the man who escaped with a dress? There has to be more to this story. I wonder—it probably has nothing to do with this—but what do you know of a Lady Clipstone?”

  Emma’s brow lifted. “She has sworn to ruin the academy. Why do you mention her?”

  “Do you think she is capable of theft?”

  “I doubt—”

  “Or of hiring a thief?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “She has held a grudge against me for years, but it never occurred to me that she would act upon it.” She shook her head as realization dawned. “She had the diary stolen. What a spiteful witch. Oh—I could shout at her
.”

  “Shout at her? Grayson said. “That’s an ominous form of revenge if I’ve ever heard one. That woman has brought us inexcusable woe. I don’t think a mere shout is suitable punishment.”

  Emma’s hand slipped to her rounded stomach. “A lady does not seek revenge. She rises above it, and, if she is a person of strong character, she forgives.”

  “Forgives?” Grayson shook his head. “Why?”

  “Her scheme might have brought us a bit of woe,” Emma replied, her calm demeanor restored once again. “But it has brought our family together for another wedding. Consider that the primary objective of the academy is for our pupils to marry well. We might suffer the lamentable scandal now and then. But in the end we are still considered a cut above the rest. Despite Lady Clipstone’s nefarious efforts, she has ruined neither Charlotte’s reputation nor the academy’s.”

  Chapter 37

  Charlotte had dreamed of her wedding day for years. She had described it in her old diary to the last detail. And the next time she had a moment to herself she would record the actual events of the day in the new one Gideon had given her, along with the silver inkstand and a heavy sapphire-and-diamond ring that he said had reminded him of her blue eyes and the starlight in their depths. The first page of her diary would be marked with one of the red roses he had sent to her right before she met him at the chapel.

  The dream had become real; the vows had been spoken by a husband and wife who were too overcome to do anything but smile at the mayhem that erupted from the pews filled with Boscastle family members. She felt herself torn from his side, embraced and congratulated by friends and family. She cast a look for Gideon in the crowd, and their eyes connected. Neither of them had to say a word.

  That evening a small article in the broadsheets mentioned that a mysterious intruder had broken into the Marquess of Sedgecroft’s mansion. There were no witnesses to the crime, although a bystander who had been standing outside the mansion’s gates had seen a suspicious-looking young man earlier with a package in his hands. Speculation over its contents swirled about London.