How to Catch a Devilish Duke: The Disreputable Debutantes

by Bennett, Amy Rose

  “Thank you, my lady.” Max slid from his saddle. After he’d tethered Ghost to the low-hanging branch of a nearby beech tree, he approached Charlie. “And now I’d like to claim my prize.”

  “Here? Now?” Charlie pushed a sodden curl away from her cheek. “In the middle of Hyde Park?”

  “Yes, right here. Right now. The park is practically deserted, after all. And the downpour is beginning to ease, so we’re not in any imminent danger of drowning.” Max cocked a brow as he gently grasped Charlie’s waist. “Unless of course you’ve changed your mind about wanting to be kissed passionately in the rain…”

  “Ah, your thoroughly wicked master plan is revealed at last.” Charlie placed her hands on his shoulders.

  “If my memory serves me correctly, it was you, my dear Lady Charlotte, who suggested the precise nature of the prize the winner could claim.” Max lifted her down but didn’t release her from his hold. “But if you’re having second thoughts, our kiss doesn’t have to be remotely passionate at all. It can be quite proper and chaste. In fact, I can always just kiss your gloved hand like a perfect gentleman.”

  Charlie arched a brow. “Well, if that’s enough to satisfy you...” She took a step back, out of his arms, and raised her hand, calling his bluff. “Kiss away, Your Grace.”

  “Minx.” Max backed Charlie up against the trunk of the beech tree, crowding her in with his body. The leafy canopy above their heads protected them from the worst of the drizzling rain. Planting both of his hands beside her head, he leaned in. His breath misted and mingled with hers in the cold, damp air between them. “You know that’s not what I really want, nor what you want either.”

  Her luscious mouth curved with a siren’s smile as she looked up at him. Her long lashes were spiky and shimmering with raindrops as she slid her hands up to his neck. Pressed her magnificent breasts against his chest and curled her fingers into the wet hair at his nape, pulling it ever so gently. The heady scent of her floral perfume teased him, making his mouth water. “Well, what are you going to do about it, Max?”

  “This.” Max tugged off one of his gloves with his teeth, then cupped Charlie’s smooth-as-alabaster cheek with his bare hand. Dragged his thumb across her lower lip. As much as he wanted to kiss her with fervent abandon, he also wanted to savor this moment. Extend the delicious, breath-stealing anticipation of claiming this gorgeous young woman in his arms. A woman he’d wanted forever but had steadfastly stayed away from because of an obligation to his best friend. Until now…

  As Charlie’s gaze dipped to his mouth, he didn’t want to think about the fact he was about to break his promise to Nate. Or that they were in a public place where anyone might stumble upon them.

  All that mattered was Charlie and the tendrils of desire wrapping around them, binding them closer together. The heat surging through his veins. The sharp, searing ache of some emotion akin to longing deep within his chest. The heavy throb of lust in his groin.

  The quickening of her breath when he pushed his hips against hers and she felt how badly he burned for her.

  “Max…” Charlie arched into him. “Please.”

  Her whispered plea was like a spark set to tinder. Max’s mouth crashed down on Charlie’s. Plundering. Ravaging. He lashed her plush, pliant body to his. Gripped her shapely head and tipped it back so he could devour her thoroughly. She tasted heavenly—like spring rain and warm honey but most of all, just Charlie. The most intoxicating manna that he could easily feast upon forever.

  Yet for all its unbridled savagery—the rough, desperate slide of lips and wild tangling of tongues—their kiss was agonizingly sweet. Charlie opened for him, accepted every shameless thing that he did and returned it in kind. Stroked her tongue inside his mouth just as deeply. When he blatantly palmed her breast, she pushed a hand beneath his waistcoat, her fingers twisting in the damp linen of his shirt as though she wanted to rip it away. And when he drew back to suck in a ragged, much-needed breath, she moaned his name as if she couldn’t bear his absence for even a second. Almost immediately, she speared her fingers into his hair, knocking off his hat as she dragged him down for another mind-spinning, bone-melting, blazing-hot kiss.

  Everything about Charlie’s kiss was sublime. It was everything a kiss should be and more.

  As Charlie had so accurately declared beneath her spring kissing bough, just one kiss wouldn’t be enough. Between them they’d started a raging fire that would be practically impossible to contain, let alone put out.

  When they at last drew apart, Charlie’s lips were swollen and glistening. And she was smiling. “Now, that is precisely the sort of kiss I wanted from you on Easter Sunday, Maximilian Devereux.” She poked his chest with a finger and pouted. “And yet you’ve kept me waiting so long. Foolish man.”

  Max felt himself grinning like a moonstruck youth. “I am. The king of fools. Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Perhaps. As much as I adored the fact that you kissed me in the rain just like I’ve always dreamed of, if I’d won the race, I think I might have chosen to kiss you somewhere a little warmer and a little more private. And while your mouth tastes divine”—she trailed a gloved finger down his torso toward the waistband of his buckskin breeches, where his cock still strained against the tight confines of leather and laces—“I can think of other places I’d like to kiss you as well. If you’d let me…”

  What? Did Charlie really mean that? Did she understand the full import of her words? Max swallowed hard as the wonderfully lewd image of Charlie on her knees before him filled his head and made his blood pound anew. Dear God, he couldn’t think about Charlie doing that to him. Could he?

  He caught her tormenting hand with his. When he spoke, his voice was rough and thick with lust. “Now I’m intrigued. How much do you actually know about bed sport, Lady Charlotte Hastings?”

  She lifted her chin, her gaze bright with challenge. “I’ll put it this way—somewhere between much more than a proper young lady should know, and nowhere near as much as I’d like to. Are you shocked?”

  “No. I mean yes. Perhaps a little. But not in a bad way. Rather, in a pleasant way. And I shouldn’t be shocked at all, considering you admitted you knew more than the average tonnish miss when we were at the Rouge et Noir Club.”

  She laughed at that. “Pleasantly shocked. I suppose your reaction could be worse. At least you’re not condemning me for being a wicked, brazen hussy.”

  “I would never do that. I adore how bold and fearless you are. How much you embrace life with both hands. I wish that I could give you more than—”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s all right, Max. I don’t expect more than you’ve already given me. Moments like this are enough.”

  Oh, God. The tenderness and understanding in her eyes and her touch, it was almost too much. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He couldn’t put into words what he wished for. He couldn’t even think it because if he did, he’d come undone, just like he did a few nights before at Heathcote Hall. Even now, the cold was creeping into his bones. Freezing the air in his lungs. Making his heart thump uncomfortably against his ribs.

  They really needed to head back to Berkeley Square.

  Passion. This is just about passion and attraction, he reminded himself. Brazen, wicked lust. Fulfilling the physical needs Charlie and I both have. That’s all.

  Drawing a deep breath, he said, “Thank you for understanding. And I do want to give you more moments like this. I have some parliamentary legislation I need to go over today—a draft bill that Prinny wants my opinion on—so I apologize in advance if it seems like I’m neglecting you yet again. But tomorrow evening, if you are not otherwise engaged, I’d like to take you somewhere. Some place that’s special. When it’s all arranged, I’ll send word about the specific details.”

  Charlie’s eyes glowed. “Of course I’ll be available. I can’t wait.”

  “Excellent. Now let’s get you home. I don’t want you to catch cold.”

&nb
sp; As for himself, after that incendiary kiss, Max doubted he’d ever feel cold again. Not unless he dwelled on the emotions threatening to unfurl inside his chest. Emotions that terrified him. Feelings that once upon a time, he would have immediately ripped out and stomped upon. But not today. Today he would let them linger for a little while. For Charlie, he would bear the bittersweet agony of tenderness taking root in his blight-ridden heart.

  Because she was worth it.

  Chapter 19

  Today’s article on ‘Essential Style’ features general reflections on the fashions recommended for well-bred young ladies for all daily occasions—from indoor morning dress to walking dress styles suitable for wearing about Town, we will ensure you look nothing less than your best…

  The Beau Monde Mirror: The Essential Style & Etiquette Guide

  Gunter’s Tea Shop, Berkeley Square

  April 21, 1819

  “He…he kissed you? In the m-middle of Hyde Park in the rain?” Olivia MacQueen, the Marchioness of Sleat—formerly Olivia de Vere and a fellow disreputable debutante—looked at Charlie with wide brown eyes across the linen-draped tea table. “That’s so wonderfully romantic.”

  When Charlie received word that Olivia and her husband, Hamish, had returned to London the day before, she’d immediately suggested that all four members of the Society for Enlightened Young Women gather for a reunion at their favorite tea shop. Charlie was thrilled that Olivia, Arabella, and Sophie had all readily agreed.

  “Yes, it is wonderfully romantic,” said Sophie, placing her silver spoon beside her now empty ice-cream bowl. “It’s about time Max stopped treating you like his best friend’s bothersome little sister.”

  “Aye.” Arabella smiled her approval over her cup of tea. “I’m so happy for you, Charlie. The fact that he chose to help you fulfill some of your dreams speaks volumes.”

  “Thank you. And I think you’re right.” Charlie felt herself flushing with pleasure. “My only concern is that Nate will find out, so all of you must promise not to breathe a word about our Hyde Park tryst. Thank heavens that hasn’t appeared in the papers. My meddlesome brother will be sure to do something completely ridiculous if he suspects Max and I are...” The heat in her cheeks spread across her entire face. “Well, you know.”

  Olivia frowned. “You don’t really believe that Nate would c-call Max out, do you?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Charlie. “My brother means well—he doesn’t want to see me heartbroken. I’d certainly hate to think their friendship might be ruined if Nate learns that Max hasn’t kept his word about keeping his distance.”

  Sophie reached out and touched Charlie’s arm. “You know my thoughts on the subject. My husband has no business insisting your engagement to Max is in name only. Especially when all of us can see that Max cares for you. Deeply. And he always has.”

  Charlie sighed. “I wish Max would recognize how he feels about me. He’s such a dunderhead. Why do men have to be so daft when it comes to matters of the heart?”

  “I agree. They are daft,” said Arabella. “But he’ll come to his senses soon enough. Gabriel certainly did.”

  “Yes, and so did Hamish,” added Olivia. “Despite the fact he’s as stubborn as a Highland bullock on occasion.”

  “And Nate too,” said Sophie. “As we all now know from experience, some men find it easier to express their feelings in other ways—through thoughtful acts and in a physical sense—before they can give voice to them.”

  “I wish there was a guidebook for women on how to manage men,” said Charlie.

  Arabella laughed. “I’m sure most men wish they had a guidebook that gave them advice on how to manage us.”

  Talk turned to baby-related matters—Thomas, whose bout of teething had passed, and Arabella’s due date, which she estimated to be in early December—and then onto Arabella’s charity work. Her mother-in-law, Caroline, had offered to take on a greater role in managing Arabella’s newly established orphanage in Edinburgh, and Arabella was most grateful. “It will leave me more time to focus on the setting up of more dispensaries for the poor here in London. And of course, this wee project in here.” She rested a hand upon her still-flat belly and smiled. “I’m pleased to report that Gabriel couldn’t be more supportive. Once upon a time, he would’ve wanted to coddle me just like a defenseless bairn who needed protecting from the world, but he’s quickly come to realize this Scottish lass is made of sterner stuff.”

  “That’s wonderful, Arabella,” remarked Charlie. “You know, lately I’ve been thinking about my lot in life as an earl’s daughter, and how I really should make myself more useful. Thanks to Max’s intervention, my reputation is beginning to lose its tarnished edge, so I’ve been wondering about charitable concerns that I could make a significant contribution to. Olivia, you mentioned before that you’ve been helping Hamish’s sister, Lady Isobel, and the local minister’s wife with establishing a village parish school on the Isle of Skye. And Arabella, I recall how you once told me about the plight of poor, unwed mothers here in London and elsewhere and how that, in part, drives you to do what you do. There are so many things I could be doing with my time instead of fretting about Max or worrying about being spied upon by his mother or someone in her employ.” Charlie had already told Sophie, Arabella, and Olivia about how the Beau Monde Mirror had reported on her set-to with Lord Mowbray at the betrothal ball and how the Mayfair Bluestocking Society had been disparaged after she’d chatted about the group’s activities with Cressida and Diana. “I need a greater purpose. I want to make a difference in someone else’s life.”

  “Well, what do you feel passionate about, dear Charlie?” asked Sophie. “That should answer your question.”

  Charlie tapped her cup of tea with a fingernail. “You know, I often think about society’s hypocrisy when it comes to the sexes and how we’re treated differently. How men can do as they please, yet we are bound by strict rules controlling every aspect of our behavior. When I suggested we formulate the Society for Enlightened Young Women, I wanted all of us to gain knowledge of the opposite sex and sexual congress, because knowledge is power. Young women, debutantes, should know what they can expect when they wed. Being kept in the dark about such matters is entirely unfair and indeed, dangerous. For instance, if one encounters an unscrupulous rakehell set on seduction and one hasn’t the slightest idea about what’s going on, let alone how to prevent conception…” She shuddered. “Of course, there’s no way I can possibly launch a public campaign to educate women about sexual congress. I’d probably be locked up in Bedlam for doing something that would undoubtedly be deemed outrageous. But I also keep thinking about women who find themselves in situations they don’t wish to be in as a result of sexual intercourse. The women society unfairly labels as fallen.” Her mind drifted back to the courtesans she saw at the Rouge et Noir Club. Max asserted they were all well-paid and wished to be there, but what if some of them didn’t? What happened when they fell pregnant or contracted some awful venereal disease? Or some horrible man like Lord Rochfort treated them badly? “I wish I could help those women in some way.”

  “Your idea has some merit, Charlie,” said Arabella. “Perhaps when the Mayfair Bluestocking Society next meets, we can discuss establishing a charity that would provide support for unwed mothers, or any woman in need. Though, I imagine overtly promoting such a cause will create a good deal of controversy among the politer members of society.”

  Charlie grinned. “But when has that ever stopped us from doing anything?”

  “Exactly,” said Olivia.

  “I, for one, think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” added Sophie. “It’s exactly the sort of charity enlightened women like us should be involved with. You can count on my unqualified support too.”

  “Let’s drink to that,” proposed Charlie, and they all raised their teacups and clinked them together. “Here’s to friendship and supporting fellow women.”

  After placing an order for a fresh pot of tea, Charli
e’s gaze wandered out of the bow window beside their table. The day was fine, the sky a glorious azure blue, and a fresh wind tossed the branches of the plane trees in the private park in the center of Berkeley Square. A sense of contentment settled over her like a soft cashmere rug. She was with all her best friends. She and Max were growing closer. For the first time in a long time, she had so many things to look forward to. The fire in her soul had been revived.

  Then her heart stuttered, and her breath caught in her throat. A shiver raced over her skin, raising gooseflesh. She gripped her almost empty teacup so hard, it was a miracle she didn’t snap off the porcelain handle.

  Lord Rochfort was right outside Gunter’s. Clothed all in black—even the sling that supported his injured shoulder was fashioned from black silk—he was conversing with another bespectacled gentleman, a man who also seemed vaguely familiar. Charlie searched her memory, trying to place him, but her mind drew a complete blank.

  And then to her horror, Rochfort caught sight of her staring at him. He bared his teeth in a grin, tipped his top hat in a mocking salute, and then after farewelling the other gentleman, turned on his heel and strode away.

  “Charlie, are you all right? You’ve gone as white as the tablecloth.”

  Charlie tore her attention away from the window and met Sophie’s concerned gaze. “I… Lord Rochfort is outside. In the square,” she whispered. “It… Seeing him here, so close to Hastings House, it took me by surprise.”

  “You don’t think he’s spying on you, do you?” asked Arabella. Her finely drawn brows had arrowed into a frown.

  Charlie swallowed. Her mouth was so dry, it felt like it was filled with ashes. “I shouldn’t think so. But he’s such a horrible, devious man. Who knows what motivates him?”

  “From what you’ve t-told me about him, Charlie, it’s only natural that you’d be shaken by the mere sight of him,” said Olivia. “But if you’re worried, you should tell Max. You said he was keeping an eye on the blackguard.”