How to Catch a Devilish Duke: The Disreputable Debutantes

by Bennett, Amy Rose

  Charlie sighed. “I really have no idea how she learned about the painting’s existence to begin with. While I’d mentioned my desire to sit for one on my not-so-secret list, that didn’t mean I had actually gone through with it.”

  Even though he didn’t want to think his mother would stoop so low, it was clear that she had. “Perhaps she’s been having you followed, Charlie. You would have visited the artist’s studio on more than one occasion, no? And I suspect she either bribed or coerced Madame de Beauvoir into handing over your portrait. The fact that there was a gilt plaque inscribed with something other than Portrait of a Young Lady indicates this abominable scheme to denigrate you was definitely—and quite cold-bloodedly—premeditated.”

  Charlie’s frown was back. “Last time I visited Madame de Beauvoir—five days ago—I did notice a man in Half Moon Street who made me feel odd. He didn’t do anything that was overtly sinister. There was just something about him… I thought I was being fanciful, but perhaps I wasn’t.”

  “You should always trust your instincts. In any case, I intend to find out exactly what my mother has done. And there will be a full accounting for her actions. If she is indeed responsible, she will not get away with this. This time, she’s gone too far.”

  They lapsed into silence for a short time with Charlie still snuggled against Max’s chest. Indeed, Max had begun to suspect she’d fallen asleep until she suddenly stiffened and sat bolt upright. “Oh, God. My portrait will be talked about in the Beau Monde Mirror, won’t it?”

  “No, it won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because right before I spirited you away in my carriage, your brother, Gabriel, and Hamish decided that they would visit the offices of Juno Press to have a word with Mr. Erasmus Silver. I’m certain the sight of three fuming noblemen and the threat of being sued within an inch of his life will be enough to ensure the editor doesn’t print one word about your painting.”

  “I can’t say I feel sorry for Mr. Silver,” said Charlie. “And words cannot express how relieved I am, even though I’m still hideously embarrassed. Thank heavens my father wasn’t there.” Charlie’s gaze shifted to the carriage window and the snarls of traffic beyond. “Where are we going, by the way?”

  “Exmoor House.” Max held his breath as he waited for her reaction.

  “Oh…” Charlie’s cheeks pinkened, and she bit her lip.

  “If you’d rather not, I’m quite happy to take you back to Hastings House, or wherever you want to go, in fact. I presumed… Actually, if I’m being perfectly honest, my first instinct was to take you somewhere safe. My home seemed like the logical choice.”

  Charlie lifted her gaze. A shy smile lit her eyes. “Of course I want to spend time alone with you at Exmoor House—and I would feel safe there—only…” A small line appeared between her brows. “What will Nate say? And everybody else if they find out?”

  “At this point, I don’t give a jot about anyone else’s views, and that includes your brother’s,” said Max, perhaps a little too gruffly. With an effort, he gentled his tone. “However, I will send word to your family that you will be staying with me this evening and that my sister-in-law will be chaperoning. They can hardly take issue with that.”

  “No.” Charlie arched a brow. “But Diana won’t be chaperoning, will she?”

  “No, she won’t, but they won’t know that. And I’m certain Diana will lie for us if anyone asks. I’m not sure what her role in this whole mess is, but I would be very surprised if she was my mother’s co-conspirator. She doesn’t strike me as the duplicitous type.”

  “Yes, I agree. In fact, I’ve always thought that she quite liked me. And this afternoon, she did try to steer us away from the end of the gallery where my portrait was on display. Perhaps in her mind, she was trying to spare me the pain of being publicly humiliated.”

  “No doubt we will find out in due course,” said Max. “But not tonight.” He didn’t want to talk about Nate Hastings or his mother or sister-in-law anymore. Not when he had Charlie in his arms and all to himself. Leaning in, he whispered against the delicate shell of her ear, “Tonight I have other plans. Plans that involve discovering just how well all of your delectable curves have been captured on canvas.” He brushed his lips over hers in a teasing kiss. “I think a thorough study of both the painting and the subject are in order, don’t you?”

  Charlie’s answering kiss full of heat and fervor was all the confirmation he needed that she was in complete agreement.

  Exmoor House, Grosvenor Square

  She must be dreaming. Any moment, she’d wake up.

  Charlie surreptitiously pinched the inside of her wrist as she sank onto the settee before the fire in Max’s sumptuous bedchamber. She couldn’t believe they were actually alone. And it had been Max’s idea to invite her here.

  For once, she hadn’t had to barge her way in.

  The candles and firelight illuminated the room with a soft golden glow, and the gilt frame of her portrait gleamed as Max placed it carefully on the marble mantelpiece between two Ming vases.

  “Gorgeous,” he murmured before turning back to face her. His smile was warm as he added, “Can I get you anything? A tray from the kitchen if you’re hungry, or a brandy, perhaps?”

  Charlie donned a smile and smoothed her silk muslin skirts over her lap with damp palms. “A brandy would be lovely.” She was too excited to eat. Or was it nervousness that was making her feel so odd?

  She watched Max as he removed his coat, then proceeded to pour two sizable nips into crystal tumblers. Could he tell that she was suddenly a little jumpy? Indeed, she felt as flighty as a bride on her wedding night. Her cheeks were hot, and her stomach was awhirl with butterflies. Even her pulse was racing. Thanks to Max and his boundless understanding, she’d managed to temporarily shrug off the cloak of shame this afternoon’s horrid events had forced upon her. No, the fact that she’d been publicly torn to shreds again wasn’t responsible for her current state of uneasiness.

  She had a confession to make, one that she probably should have made weeks ago. One that she could have made in the carriage on the way here, when she’d told Max she would understand if he wanted to end things. But at that particular moment, she hadn’t the nerve to go through with it.

  Yes, she definitely needed a strong drink to gird her loins and loosen her tongue.

  When she had her brandy in hand and Max had stretched out on the seat beside her, she took a large sip, welcoming the sting of the fiery liquor as it burned a trail down her throat.

  Max reached out and wrapped one of her curls that had come loose around his finger. “Are you all right, Charlie? Whatever happens this evening is completely up to you. We can simply talk. I can even take you home. I have no agenda other than to make you happy.”

  Oh, goodness. Why did he have to be so sweet? In some ways, his supportive words made it even harder for her to say what needed to be said. She swallowed a little more brandy, then put down her glass on a nearby side table. “Max…” She took one of his strong hands in hers and absently traced a fingertip over the outline of his long, elegant bones. “I have to tell you something. Something else that’s quite shameful. I probably should have mentioned this to you a while ago, but in all honesty, I was never sure that we’d reach the point we are at tonight.”

  Concern flickered in his deep blue eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would make me think less of you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

  She blew out a sigh. “You haven’t heard it yet. Even though I’ve admitted to you that I know more than a young lady of my station should know about sexual congress, I’ve never fully explained why that might be the case. You’re not a fool, by any means, and you may have had suspicions all along…”

  “Go on,” he said gently.

  There was no judgment in his gaze. No censure. He was simply waiting for her to continue. She inhaled a steadying breath. Ignoring the rapid pounding of h
er heart, she met his gaze. “I’m…I’m not a virgin.”

  Max smiled, and she knew everything would be all right. “Neither am I,” he said. “Has that ever made you think less of me?”

  “No, of course not. But you know it’s different for young women. We’re supposed to remain chaste until we are wed. We agreed that it would be my decision whether to end our engagement or to wed at the end of the Season. But in light of my confession—now that you know the truth—I would understand completely if you did want to end things sooner rather than later because of my lack of honesty. Not only is my reputation in tatters, my virtue isn’t intact. I am thoroughly disreputable to my very bones. So, perhaps your mother is right after all. For many reasons, I’m not the sort of wife a person like you—a duke—needs in his life.”

  “Charlie, I think it would be entirely hypocritical of me to judge you. What you’ve just told me doesn’t alter my regard for you. My esteem for you isn’t diminished.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Absolutely. And even though I might not be your first lover”—his mouth kicked into a rakish smile—“I hope I’ll be your most memorable.”

  Lover… The word was like a double-edged sword. It thrilled Charlie and made her heart ache at the same time. Of course, she wanted to be more than Max’s lover. She wanted his love too. But she wouldn’t spoil tonight with useless longing. She’d already experienced too much anguish today. Tonight—this opportunity to be with Max, to share his bed—it would be enough.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice low and soft. A beguiling, irresistible nudge.

  She gave a little laugh. “To be perfectly honest, I’m thinking how truly awkward my first time was. And it was memorable for all of the wrong reasons.”

  Max’s brows plunged into a frown. “The cad didn’t force you, did he?”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. It was a mutual attraction, and he had a particularly nice smile. I was seventeen and he…he was the nineteen-year-old son of a local squire whose property adjoins Elmstone Hall. Anyway, my father holds a harvest feast every year to thank Elmstone’s farmhands and villagers for all their hard work, and this fellow and I, we both had too much cider. One thing led to another, as things do, and we ended up in one of Elmstone’s stables in the loft. There was a lot of straw, and dust got up my nose. And then, while he was undoing my bodice, I sneezed and bumped his head. Even though he got a nosebleed, we were undeterred. But no sooner had he…” She reached for her brandy and took a sip. It was probably best to skip over the mechanics. Max would know what she meant. “I was worried he might lose control,” she said. “So, I made him withdraw before he was done. The last thing I wanted to do was get with child. But I think it was his first time too, and he spent all over my legs and skirts. All in all”—she grimaced—“it was sticky and messy and uncomfortable and altogether unsatisfying. In hindsight, I was foolish and reckless and shouldn’t have done it. But…” She bit her lip.

  But I did it because I was trying not to think about you anymore, Max, the unattainable golden-haired Adonis of my dreams.

  She released a sigh and raised her gaze to Max’s face. “You’re actually the first person I’ve ever told about this. Sophie, Arabella, and Olivia don’t even know. Nor my Aunt Tabitha.”

  “I shall keep your secret,” said Max, his expression solemn. “I’m honored you felt comfortable enough to share it with me. And I can assure you”—he reached for her glass and placed it on the table again—“that you won’t be left unsatisfied tonight. Or have to worry about me losing control. This will be all about your pleasure, Charlie. I’ll make this night unforgettable for all of the right reasons.”

  He framed her face in his hands and captured her mouth with his, kissing her with slow, deliberate purpose as though his only agenda was to give her pleasure, just as he’d promised. Tipping her head back with one hand, he plundered her mouth with his tongue, licking and tasting. Stroking deep. The fingers of his other hand caressed a teasing path down her neck before roaming across her shoulder, then lower to torment one of her breasts. Her nipple was already a taut peak straining toward his touch through all the layers of her clothes, and he made her harder, circling her with his thumb.

  Charlie tangled her fingers in his hair, kissing him back with equal ardor. When he slid his mouth to her neck and pushed her gown away from her shoulder so he could devour her with feverish, open-mouthed kisses, she couldn’t contain a moan. Dear God, he was wonderful. She had no doubts that he would make this experience good for her.

  But when his mouth skated back to her ear and he whispered, “I think it’s time to see what treasures you’re hiding beneath that gown, don’t you?” Charlie stiffened. Her hands slid to Max’s chest as though part of her meant to push him away.

  Oh, she was such a contrary ninny. Max was utterly perfect, and she couldn’t wait to share all of herself with him. But what would he think of her nude body when she unveiled herself? She knew he would say complimentary things about her curvaceous figure, but would he really mean them?

  Perhaps that was why she suddenly felt so skittish again; her lack of self-confidence about her appearance was, and had always been, at the back of her mind. It was the sole reason for her apprehension right now.

  When she found her voice, it was obvious that she was more than a little nervous. “I… About that…”

  Max pulled back and frowned down at her. “I’m going too fast for you, aren’t I?”

  She winced. “A little. Which is completely foolish of me, considering everything we’ve already done together. And of course, this isn’t my first time, so I have some idea of what to expect. Although it was five years ago and hardly ideal… Oh, Lord. I’m so sorry. I’m babbling and ruining the moment.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, Charlie. Actually, I should apologize to you if you in any way feel like I’m putting pressure on you. I don’t want to scare you with the strength of my desire. We can go as slowly as you want. Or we can stop altogether. It’s up to you, sweetheart. We won’t do anything that you don’t feel comfortable with.”

  “Oh, I want to be with you. That’s not the problem.” Charlie worried at her lower lip and glanced up at the painting on the mantel shelf. It was time for her to be candid about this issue too. “To be perfectly frank, now that the moment has finally arrived and we can make love without being interrupted, I seem to be suffering from an unaccountable attack of stage fright. I’m…” She met Max’s concerned gaze again. “I’m nervous about disrobing in front of you. You see, the reason I sat for that portrait to begin with is that I gained a few pounds over Christmastide and was feeling less than attractive. My aunt Tabitha, God bless her, suggested that I have my portrait painted. She wanted me to see myself in a new light.”

  Charlie nodded at the painting again. “And I can see that my likeness is appealing to the eye. Only…” She sighed. “I’m not at all slender like all of my gorgeous friends. Or dare I say it, like Lady Penelope. I’m decidedly Rubenesque. And although you’ve seen ‘bits’ of me, so to speak, it’s always been at night in a darkened carriage. Not in a room like this that’s alight with firelight and candles. I’m…I’m worried you’ll find the real flesh-and-blood Charlotte Hastings wanting.”

  Max caressed her cheek, his fingers gentle. “Charlie, I’ve always found you desirable. And there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll find you just as beautiful without clothes. But I want you to set the pace. Make all the rules. We can snuff out all the candles. We can remove every single stitch of our clothing or stay dressed. All I ask is that you tell me what you want or don’t want. Will you promise to do that for me?”

  She nodded, and a wave of heat and delicious anticipation shimmered over her, washing away the last remnants of her hesitation. “Yes, I will, Max,” she murmured huskily. This time her voice was breathless with desire and excitement, nothing more.

  Even though lust hurtled through his veins, making him as randy as a buck at t
he height of rutting season, Max silently vowed not to rush this experience. For Charlie, he would go slowly and take care. And as much as he wanted to worship her naked body with his eyes as well as his hands and mouth, Max meant every word he’d just said. It was up to Charlie to decide what they would do next. Although he did have one suggestion…

  He smoothed an errant curl away from her flushed cheek. “There is one thing I’ve always wanted to do though. If you’ll let me.”

  Her kiss-swollen lips, as ripe and red as summer plums, curved into a smile. “And what’s that?”

  “I’ve always dreamed of letting down your glorious hair…watching it fall about your shoulders. Would that be all right with you?”

  “Of course.” She turned on the settee, presenting her back to him. “Go ahead. Although, my maid uses far too many pins, so it might take you half the night.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Max’s fingers were already in her thick chestnut tresses, carefully feeling for hairpins in the intricately coiled mass at the back of her head. Slowly but surely, he loosened her curls until they tumbled down her back, reminding him of a fiery, autumnal waterfall. Leaning forward, he pressed his face against her shoulder, inhaling the sweet floral scent of her. “Beautiful,” he murmured. Pushing the silken mass of her hair aside, he lavished the delicate column of her throat with kisses.

  Charlie shivered and leaned back against him. His hands skated up her rib cage but paused just below her breasts. “Tell me what you want next,” he said in a low, soft voice against her ear. “I’m yours to command, my lady.”

  “I want…I need to be closer to you, Max,” she whispered. To his astonishment, she shifted and turned. Lifting up her skirts, she straddled him, just like she’d done at the Rouge et Noir Club all those weeks ago.

  Dear God. Charlie’s delightfully deep cleavage was right in front of his face, and her skirts and petticoats were rucked up around her knees, revealing her silk stockings and their delicate blue-ribbon garters. Max already had a fearsome cockstand, but the sight of Charlie positioned upon his lap with her legs spread wide almost had him spending right then and there in his trousers.