How to Catch a Devilish Duke: The Disreputable Debutantes

by Bennett, Amy Rose

  His mother’s mouth flattened into a mutinous line. But then she inclined her head. “Crystal.”

  “Good.”

  When Max returned to Exmoor House, the first thing he did was dash off a note to his inquiry agent. As much as he didn’t like the idea of having his mother watched, he was highly suspicious of her reason for seeing Rochfort. If the baron had somehow got his claws into her, or if she had some sort of sick romantic tie with the cur… Max’s gut roiled. Surely not.

  But then Charlie had been tempted by the man’s dark and dangerous aura…

  In any event, he would not let his guard down. Rochfort’s health might be ailing, but that didn’t mean the viper wouldn’t strike again. Max was quite certain that vengeance, not blood, ran through the man’s veins.

  Chapter 11

  “In April's bower thy sweets are breathed…”

  Read an exclusive preview of John Anster’s poem, The Everlasting Rose.

  The Beau Monde Mirror: The Literary Arts

  Hastings House, Berkeley Square

  Easter Sunday, 1819

  “Gah, Benjamin and Daniel,” grumbled Charlie as she balanced her overflowing basket of flowers on her hip and bent down to scoop up a discarded, cracked Easter egg at the bottom of the main stairs. “Indoor pace egging is all well and good, but you need to be more careful. Someone—me, for instance, or dear Sophie here—could have broken her neck.”

  “Sorry, sis,” called Benjamin over his shoulder as he bolted into the library with his twin brother at his heels. “Daniel missed one.”

  “It doesn’t matter who missed—”

  The library door slammed, and Charlie rolled her eyes. While she loved having her three younger brothers—Jonathon, aged eighteen, and the twins Benjamin and Daniel, aged fifteen—home for Easter, she certainly didn’t love the chaos they invariably created. After the entire family had all trooped back from church that morning, it had started pouring with rain, so Daniel and Benjamin, clearly bored, had decided to challenge each other to an Easter egg rolling contest around the house like a pair of restless eight-year-olds. Charlie swore adolescent boys could turn just about anything into “sport” especially if wagers were involved.

  “Is Jonathon about?” asked Sophie. She transferred her flower basket to one hand and picked up her skirts with the other before gingerly negotiating the last few steps; no doubt she was looking for any stray Easter eggs that might trip her up. After the church service, she had offered to help with preparations for the rest of the Easter celebrations at Hastings House, and Charlie was grateful indeed.

  “He’s reading. In the library.” There was a shout and Charlie winced. “Well, he was reading.” She shook her head. “I just pray that the three of them don’t break anything before tonight’s dinner party. Their horseplay is”—there was a crash, then a whoop of laughter. She sighed— “rather exuberant. But I suppose I can’t blame them. Not when they’ve been cooped up at Eton for weeks on end. And they’ll have to return after Easter.”

  “I rather suspect Daniel and Benjamin take after Nate,” observed Sophie. “He doesn’t take well to being cooped up either. Which reminds me…” Sophie glanced at the longcase clock by the stairs. It was almost two o’clock. “He should be back from his ride in Hyde Park soon. He wanted to escort me back to Westhampton House.”

  Come rain or shine or Easter Sunday, Nate would never miss a ride. Charlie idly wondered if Max had joined him. Her missing-in-action fiancé had been invited to dinner tonight, and while he had accepted the invitation, she was also rather hoping that he would drop by Hastings House a bit earlier. Which he might do, if he’d gone riding with her brother…

  In any event, she really should get on with her preparations. She had a romantic battle plan to execute, and there was no better time than the present to lay the groundwork.

  “I’m sure this will work, Charlie. You’re ingenious,” remarked Sophie as they watched Edwards and another footman stringing up an elaborate garland of flowers above the drawing room door; the roses, peonies, hyacinths, and tulips had been threaded with pink satin ribbon and tendrils of ivy, and Charlie thought they were as pretty as could be.

  “I certainly hope it does,” replied Charlie. “But you might have to distract Nate at some point if Max doesn’t put in an appearance before dinner. I dare not put my plan into action if my brother is about. The last thing we need is blood on the Aubusson rug on Easter Sunday.”

  “Rest assured, when you give me the signal, I’ll make sure my husband is occupied.” Sophie glanced about the vestibule of Hastings House. “So how many of these spring kissing boughs are you going to put up?”

  Charlie laughed. “As many as I can. But in all seriousness, I asked the florist to create ten arrangements. Aside from this garland here, I plan on hanging a kissing bough above the doors leading to the dining room, library, morning room, and the terrace. And then these”—she lifted her basket that contained smaller balls of blooms—“will be suspended from the chandeliers, including this one here in the entry hall.”

  Sophie gave Charlie a little nudge. “The poor man doesn’t stand a chance.”

  “I hope not,” agreed Charlie. “Because if this doesn’t work, I have no idea what to do.”

  “If what doesn’t work?”

  Charlie turned around to find her father standing behind her and Sophie. Oh, dear. How much had he heard? With any luck, nothing about kissing.

  “Oh, Papa, I was just remarking to Sophie that if these blooms don’t brighten up the house enough, I don’t know what I shall do at this late stage,” she said, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the blush heating her cheeks. “We have so many guests for dinner tonight. And I’m sure you’re keen to impress Lord and Lady Wycliff and their daughter, Lady Tilbury, just as much as I am.”

  “The house already looks wonderful,” replied her father, moving forward a pace to stand on her other side. “And the menu you’ve chosen for this evening is sure to be a triumph. But I appreciate the extra effort you’re going to.” He gave her elbow a little nudge. “No doubt you’re keen to impress your fiancé.”

  “Well, perhaps a little,” confessed Charlie. But she doubted it was in the manner her father was thinking of. “Although, after observing how much Daniel and Benjamin now eat, I am beginning to worry that I haven’t ordered in enough food. I’m sure they could devour a leg of lamb and a Simnel cake each.”

  Her father smiled. “I’m sure everything will be perfect.” A resounding bang, a thud, and a chorus of raucous laughter emanated from the library, and he swung around, frowning. “Egads, Charlie, I swear Daniel, Benjamin, and Jonathon are going to be more of a handful than Nate. And that’s saying something,” he muttered. “I’d best intervene before they bring the house down around our ears.”

  “Good luck,” called Charlie after him as he marched across the vestibule.

  “Boys,” her father began as he threw open the library door. “What the devil—”

  The door slammed behind him, and Sophie gave her a sympathetic smile. “I suppose we should leave the library until last.”

  “Yes,” agreed Charlie. “Lord knows what they’ve done in there.”

  The footmen had just finished hanging the last kissing bough from the chandelier in the entry hall when Hastings House’s butler, Mr. Abbott, approached. “My apologies for interrupting, my lady…”

  “That’s quite all right, Abbott,” Charlie replied, but her eyebrows shot up as she took in the sizable bundle the butler held in his arms—two enormous boxes with another round bandbox balanced on top. “What on earth have you got there?”

  “It’s for you, my lady. A gift from the Duke of Exmoor. I believe there’s a note tucked into the ribbon of the bandbox.”

  “Oh…” Charlie took it and examined the wax seal on the back. “It is from Max. How wonderful.”

  “And romantic,” sighed Sophie. “You must open it at once.”

  “Yes.” After Charlie directed Edwards to he
lp Abbott take the parcels upstairs to her sitting room, she cracked the seal and unfolded the small sheet of parchment.

  Dearest Charlotte,

  I hope you’ll accept this small token of my esteem and affection.

  I’ve missed you, and I look forward to seeing you very soon.

  Yours,

  M

  Charlie showed the note to Sophie, and her friend smiled. “Well, that’s encouraging. He says he misses you.”

  “Yes…” Charlie wasn’t sure whether she believed Max or not, but she was touched all the same. “Shall we go and see what’s in the boxes?”

  “Of course.” Sophie clapped her hands together. “One thing is certain—you cannot fault Max’s generosity.”

  Indeed, Charlie was in complete agreeance with Sophie as she opened the largest box. “Good heavens,” she breathed as she lifted the most exquisite promenade gown she’d ever seen from its tissue paper wrapping. The dusky pink silk muslin was trimmed with chocolate brown ribbon. “Max must have spent a small fortune.”

  Sophie reached out and reverently stroked one of the sleeves. “It’s divine, Charlie. And it looks like it will be a perfect fit. I wonder if he’s had a word with your modiste.”

  “Yes, I suspect he might have done that too. It looks very much like Madame Boucher’s work.” Charlie tore open the next package to reveal a matching spencer in chocolate brown velvet and a pair of buttery soft gloves in fawn kid leather. The band box contained a beautiful poke bonnet adorned with an abundance of brown satin bows and silk roses in shades of soft pink and ivory.

  “I think the Duke of Exmoor wants to take his gorgeous fiancée promenading about Town this afternoon,” said Sophie with a knowing smile. “It’s a good thing it’s stopped raining.”

  “Yes.” Charlie couldn’t hide her own excitement as she hugged the gown to her chest. “I think you might be right. I must try all of this on.”

  “Yes, you must,” agreed Sophie. “At once.”

  Sophie’s pronouncement that the attire would be a perfect fit was correct. As Charlie admired her reflection in the long oval looking glass in her dressing room, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Do you think I should wear a chemisette?” Charlie caught her friend’s eye in the mirror. “The neckline of the gown is a little daring.” Indeed, there was a good deal of the tops of her breasts on display… Although, it might work to her advantage if she managed to entice Max beneath one of her strategically placed spring kissing boughs. He might steadfastly pretend that he didn’t notice her bust, but she rather suspected he would.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” said Sophie, drawing behind her. “There’s nothing wrong with a daring neckline. I think the cut of the bodice is simply perfect. And the spencer should keep you sufficiently warm when you are outside. This afternoon you’ll be the belle of Hyde Park. Just you wait and see.”

  Charlie smoothed her hand along one of the spencer’s sleeves. “You know, this will be the first time I’ve been out in public since that horrible Beau Monde Mirror article came out,” she murmured. “Or since my engagement to Max was announced. I’m not sure…” She met Sophie’s reflected gaze. “I’m not sure how I will be received. What if…” She swallowed, unable to voice her fears. Dread curled through her at the thought that she might be snubbed or openly laughed at or labeled something even worse than “disreputable debutante”. Names that made her feel both angry and ashamed.

  Sophie wrapped her arms about Charlie’s middle and rested her chin on her velvet-clad shoulder. “I understand you’re nervous, my darling friend. But Max will be with you. No one will dare to insult you or give you the cut direct with the Duke of Exmoor by your side. I’m sure of it.”

  Charlie squeezed one of Sophie’s hands. “Let’s hope so. In any case, I suppose this will be a good way of testing the waters before Max and I attend any larger social events together.”

  An hour later, Charlie was impatiently idling about on the terrace in her new gown and spencer. Her Easter bonnet and fawn kid gloves sat on the wrought-iron table along with a small tea tray. Whenever Max arrived, she would be ready.

  If he arrived…

  She released a small sigh and tapped her booted toe on the stone flags. Patience was not one of her virtues. At least the weather held fair, so if Max did happen to show up and invite her to promenade during the “fashionable hour” in Hyde Park, her new ensemble wouldn’t be ruined.

  A light breeze pushed pale gray clouds across the powder-blue sky and lifted the pages of the novel Charlie had tried to peruse. Sophie had departed a little while before in Nate’s company. To Charlie’s disappointment, her brother had returned from his ride alone and had been infuriatingly vague when she’d questioned him about Max’s movements for the rest of the day.

  After Charlie had consulted with both the cook and housekeeper about that night’s elaborate dinner preparations—all seemed to be well in hand—she’d decided to take tea without cake or sweetmeats. For once she was too on edge to eat anything. All she could think about was Max and whether her spring kissing bough contrivance would work.

  In all of history, had there ever been a more elusive, kiss-shy rake than Max Devereux?

  Charlie twisted her diamond betrothal ring about her finger and scowled into the dregs of her cold cup of tea. She seriously doubted it.

  The garland hanging above the nearby French doors shivered in a gust of wind, and a soft, fragrant shower of flower petals floated to the ground and drifted along the terrace. Another disgruntled sigh escaped Charlie. At this rate, this particular kissing bough would be completely denuded before this evening.

  And then the gauze curtains in in the doorway parted and Max appeared. Attired in buff pantaloons, gleaming black Hessians, and a swallowtail coat of navy blue, he was, as always, heart-stoppingly handsome.

  As soon as his gaze connected with hers, he shot her a dazzling smile.

  “Charlotte.” His voice was filled with warmth as he crossed the terrace toward her in a few swift strides. “You look wonderful. Simply breathtaking.”

  “Do…do you really think so?” she asked as he took her hands in his and helped her to her feet. Her pulse was racing so fast, she almost couldn’t draw enough breath to speak.

  In all the years she’d known Max, he’d never once made a comment about her appearance. Well, unless it was to tease her about something that was amiss like her messy hair or mismatched shoes or a dusting of powdered sugar upon her nose.

  “Of course I do.” His appreciative gaze traveled over her gown and spencer, and Charlie felt her cheeks grow warm with pleasure. “The colors suit you well.”

  “Thank you. I certainly wasn’t expecting such an extravagant gift, and I’m most grateful,” she murmured, suddenly as bashful as a giddy chit about to attend her first assembly. “And I feel thoroughly spoiled.”

  “And so you should be. Spoiled, that is. And often…” His expression changed, and a shadow of remorse crossed his features. “I must apologize for being absent for so long. Life has been rather hectic of late. But this afternoon and this evening, you shall have my undivided attention, my lady.”

  “Oh, I like the sound of that. What did you have in mind”—Charlie looked up through her eyelashes at him—“for this afternoon?”

  “Well, I rather think it’s time to show off your new Easter bonnet. So, if you agree, I’d like to take you for a ride about Hyde Park in my new high-perch phaeton. It’s waiting outside in the square.”

  “I would love to.” Charlie tugged on her gloves, scooped up her bonnet, and took the arm Max offered. They crossed the terrace, but as he began to draw back the curtains, shielding the doorway, Charlie hesitated. Butterflies began to dance about in her belly.

  “What is it?” he asked, raising a quizzical brow.

  “Oh… It’s just that…” Charlie inhaled a deep breath. They were alone. Max was being as attentive as could be. Come what may, this was the moment to ask for a kiss. “It’s just that w
e’ve stopped beneath the spring kissing bough.”

  “Spring kissing bough?” A slight frown knitted Max’s brow. He looked up. “You mean to say this garland of roses and whatnot is akin to a ball of mistletoe?”

  “Yes. Exactly. This year the Hastings household is instituting a new family tradition. Because why should kissing boughs be confined to the Yuletide season? It’s spring. A time for rejoicing. A time for celebrating new beginnings.”

  Max lowered his gaze and his frown deepened. “I don’t think you can just create a new tradition out of thin air and expect everyone to go along with it, Charlie.”

  “Well, I don’t see any harm in it,” she added defensively. Her mouth was suddenly as dry as could be. If Max rejected her… No, she didn’t want to think about that. Ignoring the tripping of her heart, she drew another bracing breath and lifted her chin. “I mean, Nate isn’t here. Or my father. And we are engaged. So, why not? After all, there has to be a first time for anything that is to become a tradition, even one that involves the exchange of a simple kiss.” She bit her lip, deliberately playing the coquette because at this point, what did she have to lose? “What harm could it do?”

  A muscle worked in Max’s jaw, but amusement and something hotter gleamed in his deep blue eyes. “Well, when you put it like that, my dear Lady Charlotte…” He raised a hand and cupped her face ever so gently. Tilted her head a fraction and leaned in. His breath fanned across her lips as he murmured, “Who am I to stand in the way of tradition?”

  He pressed his mouth to hers, and Charlie’s insides melted like a lump of sugar in her hot chocolate.

  Yes, Max. Yes…

  Her bonnet fell to the ground unheeded as her fists gripped his lapels and everything else that wasn’t Max faded away. All she was aware of was the gentle press of his firm lips. Their silken, sinuous, languid glide. Her own lips parted on a sigh, and his tongue swept into her mouth, the intimate caress as soft as warm velvet. His mouth gently brushed against hers again…and then, to her disappointment, it was over.