Her sister clasped her hands. “Are you ready?”
Cordelia shook a bit, but she straightened her spine. “Ready.”
Her father led her down the path to where Ash waited. She barely glanced at the other guests as her eyes locked with Ash’s. Taking his hands, she barely heard the words of the priest as the melody of their song hummed in her head.
When he leaned down to take her lips, she blinked, realizing the ceremony was over. “We did it,” he whispered softly. “You are now Lady Dashlane.”
She laughed softly, giving his hands a shake. “I am. I’d never thought of it that way.”
He pulled her into his arms and everyone around them cheered. “I can’t wait for our future.”
“Me either,” she breathed, and she kissed him again. When she finally pulled away, her eyes had misted with tears as she looked out at her assembled family and friends.
Bianca wiped at her eyes. “I can’t believe another wedding is over already.”
Cordelia gave her sister an affection glance, happiness rising up into her chest. “Fortunately for us, we’ve a few more weddings to go.” Then she looked to Charlie and winked.
What a day that wedding was going to be…
Who Wants a Brawling Baron
Chapter One
Lady Charlotte Summerset lounged in a velvet settee as conversation swirled about her. She drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the sea air that wafted in from the open French doors all along the music room. They opened onto a series of balconies that overlooked the water and allowed guests to filter in and out of the room.
Normally she’d be at the center of the vortex, at her best in a social situation, but the past few weeks had been anything but normal.
First, her brother had hauled her from London and the Season to the country, for lord knew what purpose. It was supposed to be a quick trip.
But then, her cousin, the Duke of Rathmore, had announced his engagement. And just like that, they’d been travelling the opposite direction of London, heading to the sea and the home of the Moorish family in the quaint little village of Seabridge Gate.
Then, in the strangest turn of events yet, her very serious brother had fallen in love and married all within a week. Not that she objected to her brother’s choice of bride. Juliet Moorish was wonderful, kind, and had literally saved Charlie’s life a few days before. Juliet would make a lovely sister-in-law.
But now, her brother had left on a honeymoon, leaving her in the care of the Moorish family, only a few weeks left before London emptied and the Season ended for good.
And she’d missed the entire affair. Every sparkling, jewel-like moment. Gone. She’d have to wait an entire year for the next one.
Not to mention that she and her brother had been inseparable these past several years. Now, in a blink, he was gone. Off to begin his life with his new bride while she was stuck here…alone.
She took a sip of the light and bubbly beverage someone had handed her as she continued to lounge. The Moorishes were lovely, of course.
Kind, sweet, effervescent ladies who’d welcomed her into their home, but Charlie missed the glitter of London. Truth be told, she missed the array of suitors who’d showered favor upon her.
Dane had told her that she ought to marry one of them. And she would eventually. After a few more seasons. But she wasn’t ready to settle down yet. She liked to be adored. Was that so wrong?
She ignored the little voice that told her she was selfish. That she was using her admirers’ affections to fill the hole in her heart.
Instead, she rose from the settee and smiled at her cousin. “I’m going to step outside for a moment. I’m rather warm.”
He nodded, not breaking from his conversation with his fiancée. Charlie was certain that he thought she meant the balcony. Perfectly safe, completely chaperoned.
But instead she slipped through the door into the hall and headed for the main stairs. Being in this quiet village had allowed her far too much time to think. To remember.
She started down the hall, glass still in hand, and she took a generous swallow. No amount of exercise had quieted her swirling thoughts. How had her brother managed to move past the loss and open up his heart to Juliet?
He’d been older, she supposed, when their life had been forever altered. One day they’d been a happy family and the next…both her parents gone forever. She’d only been thirteen. Already so insecure.
Six years had passed, but she still missed them every day.
A fresh tear dotted her eye, but she refused to let it out. What she needed was a distraction.
The sound of carriage wheels grinding along the gravel path made her head snap up. Who would be arriving at this time of night? It had to be past nine o’clock.
Rather than continue going down the stairs, she ducked into a shadow wanting to know who had arrived.
On schedule, the butler appeared below, making his way to the door as the bell rang throughout the grand entry.
Charlie’s breath caught, excitement making her chest a bit tighter. Somehow, the arrival of another guest seemed almost an answer to the prayer she’d sent up.
She’d wished for a distraction. Who might this be?
Another handsome lord?
Then she shook her head. So foolish. Whoever had arrived was likely nothing more than a merchant. Or a farmer from the village.
But as the door swung open, a massive man entered the foyer.
Charlie started, gazing at the tall, black hessians that were polished to a shine and encased massive calves. She continued looking higher, noting the tightness of his breeches over his muscular thighs.
Charlie trailed her gaze up to his broad chest, broad strong shoulders, and thick neck until finally settling on his jet-black hair, glinting in the candlelight. His stern features were set in serious lines that she’d recognize anywhere.
In front of her stood the Baron of Balstead.
She barely managed to hold in her gasp. She knew the man. She’d even danced with him once. He’d held her waist with a possessive power that had left her breathless. Where other men showered attention on her, he’d captured all hers with a single glance.
But their dance had never been repeated. And he’d never so much as looked at her again.
“Good evening,” the butler said, giving a stiff bow.
“Good evening,” the Baron replied, handing the man a card. “I apologize for the lateness of my arrival but I need you to deliver this to the man of the house.”
With a curt nod, the butler turned and headed back up the stairs. Charlie ducked deeper into the shadows until he’d passed and then she hurried into the light, stopping at the top of the stairs.
Looking down, her gaze clashed with Balstead’s. “It’s you,” she uttered quite without meaning to.
His eyes were dark and unreadable, and his lips turned down into a marked frown. “It’s me.”
Her insides skittered with nerves as his gaze held hers. He had that same power as their first meeting. Effortlessly, he captured her attention and held her breath in the palm of his hand.
Damn it all to bloody hell, Raithe muttered under his breath as he looked at none other than Lady Charlotte Summerset. The little brunette minx had played a starring role in more than one of his dreams of late, not that he was happy to see her tonight.
There was no place in his life for such a woman. Not anymore.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, standing on the last step of the grand stair, a glass of bubbling champagne resting delicately in her tapered fingers.
He took in the silky mass of hair piled on top of her head, her grey-green hazel eyes, large and fringed with long, dark lashes. Her pert little nose accentuated by a flush of pink cheeks and those lips… So lush and full they made a man ache.
His dreams hadn’t done her justice.
Charlie, as her brother called her, was the sort of woman who shined wherever she went. Droves of people followed her abo
ut just to bask in her glow. He wasn’t one of them. Sure, his body throbbed in the most inappropriate places, but he knew better than to give in to a woman like Charlie.
“I came,” he drawled, “because I was hosting a party and the majority of my guest list failed to attend.”
Her brows arched as she cocked her head to the side, stepping off the final step. Which brought his gaze sliding down her body. Petite, certainly, but still lush. Her hips swayed as she walked, practically hypnotizing him.
“A party? And I wasn’t invited?” She stuck out her bottom lip even as a teasing smile played about her lips.
She slid closer and he straightened, preparing for the onslaught of her nearness. He’d been this close to her once before as he’d held her tiny waist in his hand.
She’d made him feel…well, the sort of feelings he’d thought long dead. “It’s not a party for the likes of you.”
She stopped, one of her shoulders rising. “Not a party for me? I like all sorts of parties.”
Raithe narrowed his gaze. He should have known that Charlie might be here. He’d attempted to lure several lords out to his country estate with the promise of delightful debauchery.
It wasn’t the best idea. First because that wasn’t the actual reason he’d wanted them to attend, and second they’d had some change of plans and failed to arrive. Which was why he’d come to collect them. “Not this sort.”
“Is it a hunting party?” she asked, once again moving closer. He caught her scent of lilac and sage. Without meaning to, he drew in a deep breath.
“No,” he answered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should find the master of the house and request an audience.”
She shook her head. “In a moment.”
Raithe looked up at the ceiling. His fist clenched against his thigh. She was so used to getting her way. “Lady Charlotte,” he started, leaning closer, his voice dropping low. “It’s the sort of party where men do things they don’t want respectable ladies to see. Which is why you are most definitely not invited.”
One of her brows rose. “You don’t like respectable ladies?”
“Not particularly,” he answered. Which was partially the truth. He had once been married, after all, so he’d liked at least one respectable woman, loved her, in fact. But that was a situation he hoped never to find himself in again.
Her lips parted as she assessed him and his breeches tightened. Did she realize what sort of invitation she’d given him? She likely did. Charlie was a practiced flirt. That much had been clear from their one dance together. He’d watched her on several other occasions, which had only confirmed his suspicions.
What had been surprising was how much he longed to let her practice the art on him.
“Is that why you never asked me to dance again?” She shifted closer, the warmth of her body radiating through his jacket.
“Precisely,” he said, resisting the urge to step away. That would look weak. But then again, he was fighting an even stronger urge to pull her against his body.
She lifted her hand, the one not holding champagne, and brushed it along the lapel of his jacket. A light touch that danced over his skin, making his skin tighten underneath his clothing. “But I’m really quite lovely. Everyone thinks so.”
“I am not everyone,” he said through gritted teeth. The truth was, he was everyone. At least in this regard. He’d fallen instantly under her spell.
She gave him a knowing smile. “No you’re not. Even I know that. And I’ve heard that girls like me should stay far away from men like you.” Her hand flattened on his chest, her palm brushing his nipple. Desire made his limbs heavy as the damn treacherous flesh tightened in response, giving him away.
He gave his head a small shake as he reached for her gloved hand resting on the lapel of his coat and carefully removed it.
Except, now that her hand was in his, he could see how much smaller her fingers and palm were compared to his. He found himself holding onto the hand. “They’re right.”
“What makes you bad?” she asked, her voice dropping to a tempting whisper. As though they were lovers sharing a secret. The words actually rose to his lips because, if he shared them, she sounded as though she’d join him in the debauchery.
He needed to end this and he needed to do so quickly. Charlie felt too nice this close, her hand in his, and she’d haunt his dreams again tonight for certain. And likely tomorrow too. The day after and the day after that. “Well, for starters…” He lowered his head to just a few inches from hers and could see the specks of green in her hazel eyes, smell the champagne on her breath. “I pay lots of women to share my bed.” He knew his revelation was the exact sort of thing that would scandalize her and his words hit their mark.
She gasped in a breath as she took a step back and then another, one hand covering her mouth. Her fingers dropped a fraction of an inch. “Beast,” she accused, her eyes crinkling in hurt or accusation. He couldn’t be certain.
“My parties aren’t for you. I am not for you,” he said, crossing his arms again. “Stay away from me, Lady Charlotte.”
Chapter Two
Charlie stared at the Baron of Balstead, wanting to give him a good slap in the face. She’d only wanted a bit of fun. A diversion from the monotony of life in the country and he’d been rude.
She spun about and started back up the stairs. She could confess to herself that this man in particular was not just an idle diversion. Several men had pressed their favor in London, but none had made her heartbeat quicken like Balstead. Something about his large frame, the almost dangerous glint to his eyes set her pulse racing through her veins.
When she’d first seen him standing below her in the entry, she’d had a moment where she was certain fate had brought them together again.
Not that she wanted to fall in love. Even she knew that Balstead wasn’t the sort of man a woman like her married. But she did wish to test the flutter he so effortlessly caused in her stomach. Was that sort of excitement the answer to her constant need for action and attention?
She slipped back into the music room, taking her seat on the settee once again. Whatever the answer to her boredom was, Balstead couldn’t provide it. The man had been positively dreadful. She ignored the other thought that popped into her mind. The one that said he was also delightfully masculine. She thought to the feel of his bulging muscles under her hand and shivered.
Her fingers shook a bit as she took another healthy swallow of her beverage. She had little experience with the bubbly concoction sliding down her throat but the liquid seemed to quiet her thoughts as the butler appeared in the doorway once again.
“May I present the Baron of Balstead.”
The room went silent.
Charlie, rather than rise, lay back on the settee propping her head up on her hand and sliding her feet onto the lush cushions.
She had no intention of rising and curtsying for him.
“Charlie,” Cordelia murmured from just behind her. “Do get up.”
Charlie let out a soft breath. Cordelia was one of her favorite Moorish sisters, though she liked them all and for her host’s sake, she rose.
Balstead glared at her from the doorway, but she refused to meet his gaze, instead staring at the wall just to his left.
Mr. Moorish stepped forward, shaking the man’s hand, and inviting him to join them. “You are just in time, my lord. Dinner will be served soon.”
“Most gracious,” Balstead said, his voice rumbling low and deep. “I shouldn’t stay. I’ve yet to secure a room.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Moorish returned. “You’re free to stay here. Tell me, what brings you to Seabridge Gate?”
“Do tell,” Charlie murmured, though several others heard and turned a curious eye to first her and then Balstead.
He cleared his throat, glancing about the room. “I am well acquainted with some of your other guests. Lord Crestwood, Lord Craven, and Lord Dashlane are personal friends of mine.”
Charlie looked
over at the three men who were also guests in the Moorish home. Lord Crestwood was engaged to Adrianna and Lord Craven to Bianca. Were they once debauchers too?
Mr. Moorish gave Balstead a glowing smile. “You know my future sons-in-law?”
Balstead paused. “Sons-in-law?”
Mr. Moorish waved. “That’s right. Were they about to visit you, my good fellow? The storm last week washed out the bridge north of town. We’ve only just gotten it repaired.”
“The storm?”
The baron’s voice had grown rock hard and Charlie found herself drifting closer once again.
Mr. Moorish nodded, a pleasant smile playing about his lips. “Fortunate for us, wouldn’t you say?”
“Very,” Balstead answered. “And I would happily accept your invitation, Mr. Moorish. Thank you.”
Charlie squinted her eyes, assessing him. He’d changed his attitude very quickly.
“Excellent.” Mr. Moorish clapped as he began the introductions. “These are my daughters, Ophelia, Cordelia, Adrianna, and Bianca.” Then he pointed to Charlie. “And our lovely guest, Lady Charlotte. My daughter, Juliet, is away on her honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon?” One of the baron’s eyebrows quirked. “With whom? The only man I see missing is the Marquess of Hartwell…” And then his eyes slid to Charlie again. “Is that why you’re here without your brother? He’s gone and gotten married?”
She didn’t answer, looking away again. She’d learned her lesson in the foyer. He wasn’t a man to try and verbally spar with. His experience far outweighed hers.
“Precisely,” His Grace called from next to Ophelia. “And you’ll have to forgive us for not attending your party. We were waylaid.”
Charlie stared at the other men. All three of those lords, who now stood attentively next to a lady, had been going to Balstead’s party. What was it he’d said? His parties were where men do things they don’t want respectable ladies to see. Were all lords like that?
Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances Page 47
