How to Catch a Devilish Duke: The Disreputable Debutantes

by Bennett, Amy Rose

  “Yes.” She turned in his arms to look at him. The expression in his dark blue eyes was unfathomable, but his body remained relaxed as he continued to absently sift his fingers through her loosened hair. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I am curious. But you don’t have to explain if you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

  “I do want to talk about it. The man I am today—the man I’ve been for years and years—was shaped during an incident that occurred when I was only twelve years old. My injuries—while they seem relatively minor on the surface—they’re not. They go far, far deeper. The damage, it seems, went beyond the physical and never truly healed. My heart, and indeed my very soul, were scarred.” His voice was tinged with profound sadness as he added, “It’s the reason why I’ve never been able to love.”

  Max took a sip of his claret as though fortifying himself to continue, and Charlie simply waited. Even though her heart was already breaking for him, she didn’t want to interrupt his train of thought with her own questions. She certainly didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

  At length he sighed, and his fingers continued to stroke Charlie’s hair as if the simple action brought him some measure of solace. “I’ve never really spoken to anyone about this before, so I hope you’ll bear with me if I’m not particularly eloquent.”

  Charlie touched his cheek. “Of course. I’m here to listen, Max, and to provide a modicum of comfort if I can.”

  His mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. “You do. You are.” He sighed again, and a deep furrow that was almost a scowl etched itself between his brows. “You know what my mother is like. How cold and manipulative she is. My father…he was even worse. He had what he called ‘exacting standards’, but in hindsight, it was simply an excuse for him to behave like a cruel tyrant. He maintained that he was training my brother Anthony—and me as well—to be hardheaded aristocrats who’d be capable of making decisions without being hampered by any sort of emotion or sentimentality. Any display of affection was seen as a weakness. We were never hugged by either of our parents, and our nurses were forbidden to do so too. Indeed, our nurses and our pets—father kept dogs at Exmoor Castle—were removed from our sphere on a regular basis to prevent us forming ‘unseemly attachments’. Of course, in my case, it didn’t work. I still formed emotional connections with others, but I also learned quite quickly that if I hid my feelings—if my father couldn’t tell if I liked a particular tutor or hound or horse—they weren’t taken away. And even though our father frequently pitted us against each other—he felt competition was important to develop character—Anthony and I still formed a strong filial bond. Our father might have tried to turn us into unfeeling lumps of ice, but he couldn’t…at least not for a while.”

  “Oh, heavens, Max. That’s simply awful. My heart weeps for you. It truly does.”

  “I’m sorry if I’m upsetting you.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. At all. I’m flattered that you feel you can confide in me.”

  Max nodded. “As I mentioned, I learned to mask my emotions. But everything came unstuck for me when I was twelve. It was late autumn, and we were spending a few days at Heathcote Hall. One of the horses stabled there—his name was Phantom, and he was a handsome gray like Ghost—was one of my favorites. I would ride him whenever I could, although not too much in case Father noticed I had a preference for the gelding above any of the other horses. In any event, even though the weather was quite foul, Father made Anthony and me accompany him on an extended ride about Hampstead Heath one afternoon. It was blowing a gale, and there were intermittent rain squalls.” Max’s mouth hitched with a sardonic smile. “No doubt he thought braving the elements would ‘toughen us up’.

  “I recall we’d returned to Heathcote’s grounds, and Father decided that Anthony and I must race each other through the woods on the edge of the estate. There was a fallen log on the path that we both needed to clear. I’m not sure how it happened, exactly—I was a skilled rider by that age because Father wouldn’t let me be anything less than perfect—but I do know that I was tired, and I suspect Phantom was fatigued too. I mistimed the jump, and Phantom went down.”

  Max swallowed, and his expression grew haunted. “I’ll never forget the sound of his leg snapping and his terrible screams. Father was livid, of course. I’d ruined a perfectly good horse. And so, he thought to teach me a lesson. One I’d never, ever forget…”

  Charlie was almost too afraid to ask. “What happened?”

  “I’d been thrown clear, but apart from sustaining a few superficial scrapes and being winded, I was relatively all right in a physical sense. Father hauled me to my feet and thrust a loaded pistol into my hand—he’d brought one with him to shoot any foxes or hares he saw on the heath, just for the sport of it—and then he ordered me to shoot Phantom. It was the right thing to do, to put the horse out of his misery. And it was my fault. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t do it. I loved that goddamned horse, and I hated myself for not having the guts to end Phantom’s suffering.”

  “You were only twelve.”

  “I know, but in a way, Father was right. In any case, Anthony took pity on me, snatched the gun from my hands, and ended poor Phantom’s life. The fact that my brother had been able to do what needed to be done and not me only incensed Father further. He dragged me over to the fallen log and threw me over his lap, yanked my riding breeches down, then proceeded to flay me with his riding crop.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s how you got that terrible scar?” Max nodded, and Charlie couldn’t contain her tears. “He was monstrous, Max. An evil, cruel bully.”

  “I won’t disagree. And I wished the story ended there, but it doesn’t. You might recall that there is an icehouse in Heathcote’s grounds. It’s on the edge of the woods near the lake and not far from the bridle path where Phantom fell. As an extra punishment for failing to obey his order and do my duty, my father locked me inside that freezing, dark space. Just before he shut the door, he told me that I needed to stop behaving like a sniveling, puling infant and to grow up. In order to be a man, I needed to be as unfeeling as the blocks of ice contained within the icehouse.”

  “I can’t believe he did that, Max. You could have died.”

  Max reached for one of her hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps. I was certainly cold enough. I’m not sure how long I stayed in that hellish hole. It was pitch black, and I lost all track of time, but Anthony eventually crept back and let me out. One thing I do recall clearly, though—I vowed that I must encase my heart in icy armor. Loving hurt far too much, and my emotions had clouded my ability to make rational decisions. I also vowed to myself that I would never, ever find myself in a situation that I couldn’t escape from.”

  “So that’s why you learned to pick locks?”

  Max nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well, thank God for Anthony.”

  “He risked a lot to come back and save me. As it was, my fingers and toes were frostbitten, and that’s how I lost my little toe. A physician needed to amputate it, and it took me some time to be able to run with ease again.”

  Charlie kissed his hand. “And to feel.”

  “Yes, that’s very true. But little by little, my heart did begin to thaw. As you pointed out to me not so long ago, I was able to form friendships at Eton and then at Oxford. But in my mind, male camaraderie was different from forming any sort of romantic attachment. And being in love didn’t seem necessary for marriage. My parents certainly didn’t love each other.

  “And then I met you, Charlie. For so long, I kept telling myself that I felt nothing for you other than a faint regard because you were my best friend’s younger sister. And after we became engaged, I convinced myself that I felt nothing for you but desire. But none of that’s entirely true. In actual fact, I’m a huge coward, and I’ve been too terrified to acknowledge how I do truly feel about you.”

  Charlie’s heart leapt, but even so, she couldn’t quite believe her ears. She’d suspected for som
e time that Max desired her. He’d demonstrated that most aptly tonight. But as for anything else… “You really do feel more for me than just a deep and abiding fondness?” she whispered.

  “Yes. Tonight everything changed. When we were making love, I realized that I didn’t have to be afraid anymore. I didn’t have to shy away from the tenderness growing in my heart.” He reached out and gently cradled her face with his hands. “That’s because I—”

  A rap on the door made Charlie jump and Max curse.

  “Charlie, I’m sorry—” he began, but the knock came again.

  “Your Grace…” Even though the voice was muffled, it sounded like Chiffley. “Your Grace, my apologies for interrupting…”

  Max sighed heavily and shook his head. “I’d best deal with this.” He strode to the door and jerked it open. “Chiffley, is Exmoor House burning down or being raided by marauding hordes? Because that’s about the only reason I’ll accept for your intrusion.”

  Charlie could barely see the butler. Max, ever the gentleman, stood in the doorway, obstructing the servant’s view. Nevertheless, she heard Chiffley say, “Again, I offer my sincerest apologies, Your Grace, but Lord Malverne is downstairs asking to see you. He says the matter is quite urgent. I’ve shown him into the library.”

  Nate was here? Charlie’s heart plummeted. Had her brother discovered Diana wasn’t playing chaperone after all? She sincerely prayed he wasn’t here to make trouble.

  Max must have had the same thought because he glanced back at Charlie, his expression grim, before turning his attention back to the butler. “Tell Lord Malverne I’ll be down directly.”

  “Of course, Your Grace. I also have Smedley here with her ladyship’s freshly pressed gown. Would you like him to install it in your dressing room? Or elsewhere?”

  “My dressing room will suffice.” The door shut, and Max scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Even though your gown is ready, it’s probably best if I deal with your brother.” His gaze raked over her. “It will avoid any awkward questions about chaperonage. Or lack thereof.”

  “I understand,” she said. “I’ll make myself scarce. There’s no point in setting the cat amongst the pigeons.”

  “Good girl.” Max crossed the room and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Hopefully, I won’t be long, my love. You and I have unfinished business.”

  As he retreated to his dressing room, Charlie sank onto the settee again, a smile playing about her lips. Max had called her “my love” for the very first time, and she was absolutely certain it wasn’t a slip of the tongue.

  If Nate took up too much of Max’s time, she’d march downstairs and dispense with her brother herself, gown or no. It was definitely time to put Nathaniel Hastings in his place.

  Chapter 26

  “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”—An extract from Miss Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice

  The Beau Monde Mirror: The Literary Arts

  Max found Nate pouring out glasses of his best cognac when he entered the library a short time later.

  “What’s happened?” he asked without preamble. “I hadn’t expected to see you this evening. Apparently, it’s something urgent?”

  Nate handed him a crystal tumbler. “Aside from wanting to make sure my sister is all right, I have some news about Erasmus Silver and the Beau Monde Mirror that I thought you’d like to hear.”

  Ignoring the twinge of guilt in his gut for continuing to lie about the true nature of his relationship with Charlie, Max claimed the chair behind his desk. “Charlie’s well. Well, as well as to be expected given the events of this afternoon. But she was comforted to learn that there probably won’t be any scurrilous newspaper articles about her and her portrait.”

  “No, there won’t be,” said Nate, grim satisfaction flashing in his smile. “It took Hamish, Gabriel, and me a little while to track down Mr. Silver. He wasn’t at the offices of Juno Press when we arrived, but one of the other staff members there—a junior editor who quite conveniently has a personal grudge against Silver—was quite amenable to handing over information for the price of a few guineas. Not only did we learn Silver already had a story about Charlie ready to go to press, but we obtained Silver’s home address in Marylebone. He wasn’t there either, but the manservant who answered the door was happy to inform us—again, for the price of a few guineas—that his master was paying a visit to a particularly notorious brothel in Soho Square.”

  Max cocked a brow. “Birchmore House?”

  Nate inclined his head. “The very same. It seems Mr. Silver is rather fond of being birched. When we came upon him in flagrante, he readily agreed to pull the story about Charlie in exchange for our silence about his sexual inclinations.”

  Max grinned. “I’m impressed.”

  “And that’s not all,” continued Nate. “The best part is, while we were at Juno Press, Gabriel, Hamish, and I spent a bit of time searching Silver’s office; the junior editor was happy to turn a blind eye to that as well.”

  “And what did you find out?”

  Nate winced. “I’m afraid you’re not going to like what I have to say, my friend. Gabriel unearthed a file on Fortuna Trading, the company that owns Juno Press, and inside there was a record of all of their meetings’ minutes. There was also this document which listed all of the partners who have shares in the business.” Nate withdrew a folded piece of parchment from his coat pocket and handed it to Max. “Aside from Rotten Rochfort, who appears to be the major shareholder of the company…your mother’s name is on that list.”

  What?

  Max scanned the document, and there it was in black and white. Devil take him. It was true. His own mother was a part-owner of the Beau Monde Mirror.

  His hand shook as he wiped it down his face. “This…this defies belief,” he said in a voice faint with shock. “My mother has always portrayed herself as an upstanding pillar of Polite Society. But in actual fact, she’s the complete opposite. She’s worse than just a gossipmonger. She uses gossip to wage war and destroy her social enemies. And her weapon of choice is a scandal rag. Rochfort’s too.” Disgust roiling inside him, he tossed the document onto the desk. “I wonder how many unwitting members of the ton he’s blackmailed over the years to keep their names out of his vile newspaper.”

  One thing was certain: his mother and Rochfort would pay dearly for their unrelenting campaign to ruin Charlie’s reputation. Such perfidy could not go unpunished.

  He met Nate’s gaze. “Thank you for going above and beyond and finding all of this out. As you know, I’ve been using an inquiry agent and my man of affairs to investigate the matter for weeks now, and until tonight, had learned precious little. I’m now kicking myself for playing by the rules when it seems there are none.”

  Nate shrugged. “It was Gabriel’s idea to bribe the junior editor and search Silver’s office. But he’s always been a rule-breaker.”

  Max tilted his head. “Yes. I’m truly indebted to you again, Nate. Indeed, all of my friends.”

  Nate’s gaze was as steady and solemn as a judge’s as he said, “There’s to be no more talk of debts or obligations of any kind. And as for the debt of honor that you think you still owe me, that was settled when you became engaged to Charlie. You know that.”

  “What debt of honor?”

  Hell and damnation. Max’s gaze flew to the library doorway where Charlie stood. She’d donned her gown, but her unbound curls fell in wild disarray about her shoulders. God knew what Nate thought. But Charlie clearly didn’t care. Her eyes, narrowed in suspicion, darted between him and her brother.

  As Max rose to his feet, she advanced across the Turkish rug toward the desk. “Well? I’d like an explanation. I have a right to know if the only reason you entered into this faux engagement with me was to settle a debt.” Her accusing gaze settled on her brother. “And if you were quite happy to go along with it, Nate.”

 
Nate put down his cognac and stood too. His tone was harsh with accusation as he demanded, “Where is your chaperone?”

  Charlie snorted. “Oh, don’t give me that. If you must know, she’s at Devereux House, minding her own business like you should be doing.”

  He puffed out his chest. “Now see here, Charlie—”

  “No, you see here, Nate. I’m a twenty-two-year-old woman, and I’m tired of you interfering in my affairs. And it seems you have been for some time. Despite the fact this engagement appears to be based on some sort of ridiculous gentlemen’s agreement that I know nothing about, I happen to love Max Devereux, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I know you mean well, but I’d like you to take your misplaced indignation and concern and go home to Sophie and your son. Max and I have some much-needed talking to do.”

  “Yes, we do,” agreed Max. He hadn’t missed the fact that Charlie had just openly declared her love for him. He had to set the record straight. He had to make things right.

  Nate, for once, had the good grace to look chastened. He inclined his head. “Fair enough, Charlie. I’ve only ever wanted the very best for you. You know that, don’t you?”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m a big girl, and I have my eyes wide open. I know what I’m doing. You need to trust me to be able to look after myself and make sound decisions. And your friend too.” She turned her attention to Max. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Your Grace.”

  Max nodded. “I will, and gladly.” In some ways, it was a relief that Charlie would know why he’d entered into this agreement with Nate. He didn’t want there to be any secrets between them. Not anymore.

  Nate took his leave, and as the door shut behind him, Max suggested that they repair to the fireside. “Before we discuss the debt of honor I owed your brother,” he said as he took a seat beside Charlie, “I want to share the news that he imparted when he first arrived.” He proceeded to tell her how Nate had discovered that both Lord Rochfort and his own mother were both part-owners of the Beau Monde Mirror.