Charlie’s eyes were like dinner plates. “I’m absolutely flabbergasted,” she said. “To think that all this time, your mother has been feigning innocence about her role in defaming me, yet she’s intimately involved. I wonder how long this has been going on.”
“I’d like to know that too,” Max said grimly. “And I intend to find out tomorrow. But rest assured, she will no longer plague you. Now that I know the truth of the matter, both my mother and Lord Rochfort will be called to account for their heinous actions.”
Charlie paled. “Promise me you won’t call Rochfort out again, Max. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”
“I promise you that I won’t. I have a far better plan that will end his tyranny once and for all.”
Charlie seemed satisfied with that, because the next thing she said was, “After you fought the duel with Rochfort and then proposed, you told me that Nate had agreed to the arrangement because it would help to dissipate the scandal surrounding my name. But given the conversation I just overheard, that wasn’t the entire truth, was it?” Her eyes glittered with determination, and God help him, were there tears in their golden-brown depths? “I want you to be honest with me about this, Max.”
“I will. And you deserve the truth.” Max’s pulse began to pound as he took one of Charlie’s hands in his. The diamond of her engagement ring caught the firelight and winked at him. While he was both grateful and relieved that she didn’t pull away from his touch, he was also worried how she would react to his disclosure. But there was no point in putting it off. “Four years ago, your brother helped me to avert a huge scandal that would have brought my own family’s name into disrepute.”
Charlie’s brow dipped into a frown. “Oh. I had no idea.”
“It was just after Waterloo. I’d arrived back in London, and my brother, Anthony, threw a house party at Heathcote Hall to celebrate my safe return and Old Boney’s defeat. Nate was one of the guests, along with quite a few other members of the ton. Of course, Diana and my mother were there too.”
“Diana told me that your brother had died during a house party at Heathcote. I hope you can forgive me for asking such a blunt question, but was this the one, Max?”
“Yes, it was. It was supposed to run over a week but only lasted a few days because of Anthony’s accident.”
“I’ve heard he had a nasty fall while riding.”
“Yes. In hindsight, what we did was beyond foolish. After a long luncheon that involved far too many bottles of claret, the gentlemen of the party decided to go out on the heath. During a mad gallop, Anthony lost his seat. He was knocked out cold for a short time, but when he came round, he seemed all right. Or so he claimed. I suggested summoning a physician, but he waved the idea away. It’s a decision I regret to this day.”
Charlie’s eyes were soft with compassion. “I’m so sorry, Max. You weren’t to know.”
He squeezed her hand. “Thank you, but I should have trusted my gut. As it was, Anthony continued to pretend there was nothing wrong, even though he had indeed sustained a significant head injury. Apparently, there was a slow bleed inside his brain. He drank wine all through dinner, conversed, and laughed. Later on, we found laudanum in his room, and his valet confirmed he’d imbibed some before dinner, probably to dull the fearsome headache he would have had—at least, that’s what the physician who ended up attending him at his bedside believed.”
“That’s so tragic, Max. And he was so young too.”
“Yes. He was only seven-and-twenty…” He met Charlie’s gaze. “You’re no doubt wondering what the ‘almost’ scandal was and how your brother became involved in all of this.”
“Yes. A little.”
Max sighed. “I’ll endeavor to explain. Even though Anthony and Diana seemed to be happily married, it also turned out that my brother was a philanderer; he was having an affair with one of the guests at Heathcote behind Diana’s back. I certainly didn’t know until his lover sought me out.”
“Oh. Diana actually did know that, Max. The day I arrived at Heathcote, I discovered her in your sitting room. She was crying, and she confessed that while she loved your brother, she was also angry at him for having an affair.”
“I had no idea that she knew. I wonder if she also knew the rest.”
“The rest?”
“After dinner, even though Anthony would have been feeling unwell, he arranged to meet his lover for a tryst in her bedchamber…which wasn’t such a good idea because he passed out while they were making love, and she was unable to rouse him. The situation was complicated by the fact that this woman was married and obviously quite terrified that her own husband would find the unconscious Duke of Exmoor in their bed.”
“Good heavens. What a completely awful situation.”
“It was. Although, I am thankful that Max’s lover still had the presence of mind to seek me out, despite the fact she was beside herself with distress. She entreated me to help her move Anthony out of her room and back to his own chambers. And of course, I couldn’t do it on my own. Not discreetly…”
“So you asked Nate for assistance.”
“Yes. And he did so willingly. We moved Anthony—he was completely insensible—and a mere half hour later, he passed away in his own bed. But I’ve always felt Nate went above and beyond that night. He didn’t have to help me cover up Anthony’s infidelity to protect Diana and our family name. I’ve felt indebted to him ever since.”
“So that’s why you proposed to me?” Charlie’s voice was flat with resentment, and her eyes were filled with shadows. “Out of a sense of obligation to my brother, nothing more?”
The thought that he’d hurt Charlie shredded Max’s own heart with guilt. It was his fault that she doubted him. It was no one’s fault but his that she was in so much pain.
But he also had the power to fix things. To make things right.
It was long overdue.
Confusion and hurt swirled through Charlie. Her throat was tight, and her eyes stung with the effort not to cry. How could she have been so wrong about everything?
Before Chiffley had come knocking on Max’s bedroom door, she’d sworn Max had just been about to declare that he loved her. She’d seen it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch.
He’d called her “my love”.
But Max had all but confirmed that he’d only proposed to her to settle the debt of honor that he owed her brother. What a lowering, heartrending thought indeed.
Max took her hand in his. “Charlie…” he said. “I won’t lie to you. In the beginning, the urge to repay the debt of honor I owed your brother was the reason I gave to justify my actions—for helping you to recover your notebook, for calling out Rochfort, and for proposing that we enter into a fake engagement. But I was lying to Nate and to myself. The moment I first beheld you that long-ago summer at Elmstone Hall, I noticed you. But you were only sixteen, and I was twenty-two. So, I pretended disinterest and was always, always careful around you, out of respect for you and my friend. And of course, I honestly didn’t think I was capable of forming romantic attachments—at least not a long-lasting one—and neither did your brother, who knew all about my upbringing and history with women. He really did have your best interests at heart by warning me to stay away from you.
“But in the end, I just couldn’t, Charlie. I’ve always been drawn to you. To your laughter, your smile, your intelligence, your wit, your boldness, and your kind heart. And yes, your abundant beauty. And as I told you earlier tonight, up until now, I’ve been too terrified to acknowledge my feelings for you. And to acknowledge that this engagement has never been fake, but very real. But the lies I’ve told—to myself and to you—they stop tonight. The honest to God truth is, Charlotte”—Max lifted his hands and cradled her face like she was the most precious thing in the world—“I love you. With every beat of my heart, with every breath that I take, indeed, with everything that I am, I love you. I think about you all the time, and I want you to know that you are the o
nly woman I want to be with, now and forever. And I pray that you can forgive me for being such a coward and a fool for so, so long.”
“Oh, Max.” Tears misted Charlie’s vision. His heartfelt declaration of love was everything she’d ever dreamed of and more. “Of course I’ll forgive you. And I think you already know that I love you too. With my whole heart and soul, I love you.”
Tears were shimmering in Max’s deep blue gaze as he murmured in a voice thick with emotion, “Say it again, Charlie.”
“Maximilian Devereux”—Charlie reached out to caress his jaw—“I love you. You are, and always will be, the man of my dreams.”
He closed his eyes. Swallowed. And just when Charlie thought he might kiss her, he shifted to the floor and took up a position on bended knee.
“I did not do this the right way the first time,” he said, taking one of her hands in his, “so I will endeavor to do so now. Charlotte Hastings…” His voice was low and soft and full of promise. “Will you do me the untold honor of consenting to be my wife?”
“Yes, Max. I will.” And before she could even blink, Max was dragging her into his arms and kissing her with heart-stopping, breath-stealing ardor. They toppled to the rug, and Max’s hands were everywhere—in her hair, roaming over her body—setting her aflame.
And it seemed she was rousing his desire too, given the hard, insistent press of him against her sex. When Max’s mouth slid to her neck and he began to rain soft, fiery kisses upon her flesh, she managed to whisper, “I have an idea.”
“I’m all ears,” he said between gentle licks and nuzzles.
“I seem to recall an occasion in which you intimated that you’ve been naked in your library before. And wicked woman that I am, I must say the idea has always intrigued me.”
Max raised his head and gifted her with a smile that was pure sin. “I like the way you think, my love. However, I’ll only say yes to your proposal if you agree to strip naked too.”
“Well, Your Grace,” Charlie said with a grin, “it seems you’d best lock the door. We wouldn’t want anyone bursting in unannounced.”
Max laughed as he got to his feet. “Charlie, it’s you alone who’s made a habit of doing that. But nevertheless, I’ll comply.”
When he returned to the fireside, it wasn’t long before Charlie was wearing nothing at all but her engagement ring and a smile. And as Max made slow, sweet love to her before the library fire, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that the duke she’d dreamed of for so long was really, truly hers, body, heart, and soul.
Chapter 27
Did you attend the opening of the Royal Academy’s fifty-first annual exhibition yesterday? Outstanding works abound this year, including Cooper’s magnificent rendition of The Battle of Marston Moor, Gandy’s both epic and sublime Jupiter Pluvius, and the delightfully bucolic England: Richmond Hill, on the Prince Regent’s Birthday by Turner.
The Beau Monde Mirror: The Fine Arts
Exmoor House, Grosvenor Square
May 4, 1819
Max took a sip of his first coffee for the day and stretched his booted feet toward the rose bushes bordering Exmoor House’s rear terrace. His mouth tipped into a smile. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so blissfully content. And drowsy. With Charlie sharing his bed the previous night, for the entire night, neither of them had slept very much.
Everything had been perfect.
She was perfect.
Stifling a yawn, Max took another, larger swig of coffee. On the wrought-iron table beside him sat the morning’s broadsheets. A light breeze ruffled the pages of the Beau Monde Mirror, which, to his immense satisfaction, contained not one word about Charlie or her portrait. He would happily tell Charlie that as soon as she joined him for breakfast.
His fiancée was presently upstairs in one of the guest bedrooms—for the sake of appearances—with her lady’s maid, Molly. Lord Westhampton, to his credit, had sent the maid along to Exmoor House earlier that morning to attend to her mistress’s needs. Max was nothing but grateful that his future father-in-law was so accommodating. It seemed he’d taken Max at his word when he’d said that Charlie would be chaperoned.
Max felt only slightly guilty that he’d lied to the earl.
Actually—he grinned as he topped up his coffee from the silver coffee pot—he didn’t feel guilty at all.
But the morning wouldn’t be all sunshine and roses. After they’d breakfasted, Max would be paying a visit to Devereux House to read his mother the riot act.
As for how he’d end Rotten Rochfort’s reign of terror, Max had already decided the best course of action to take. There was a pile of freshly sealed letters on his library desk that he’d already instructed his secretary to hand deliver during the morning. Because Charlie had made him promise not to challenge the baron to another duel, it seemed the only weapon left to him was his quill. And he’d wielded it with alacrity.
Before he met with his friends at White’s to celebrate, he’d be visiting Doctor’s Common to organize a special license. Now that he and Charlie had professed their love and were truly promised to each other, there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. Indeed, after what they’d done last night—several times—Charlie might already be with child. His child. The thought filled him with a warm glow and made him want to puff his chest out with pride. He couldn’t wait to make Charlie his wife and his duchess, and he hoped she felt the same way too.
He’d ask for her opinion on the matter as soon as she joined him on the terrace.
The French doors opened, and Max looked up with an expectant smile. But it wasn’t Charlie who emerged. It was Chiffley bearing a silver salver with a calling card. “Your Grace, I know it’s quite early, but it seems your sister-in-law is asking to see you.”
Even though Max waved the card away, his curiosity was piqued. He was only casually dressed in breeches, boots, an open-necked shirt, and a banyan, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. Diana had seen him in similar attire before. “How does she seem?” he asked the butler. He still wasn’t sure how deeply Diana had been embroiled in his mother’s schemes, but he intended to find out.
Chiffley’s beetled brows pulled together in a frown. “A little on edge, perhaps, Your Grace? I’ve never been a very good judge of ladies and their moods.”
You and me both, thought Max. Although, he considered himself fortunate indeed that Charlie tended to wear her heart on her sleeve, leaving him in no doubt about her feelings on any given matter. To Chiffley, he said, “Show Her Grace out to the terrace. And I expect she’d like a spot of tea. Oh, and send along some hot chocolate for Lady Charlotte.” Max seemed to recall she’d been drinking that at breakfast at Heathcote one morning.
The butler bowed. “Very good. All shall be arranged at once.”
When a footman showed his sister-in-law out to the terrace, Max rose to his feet and sketched a bow. “Diana, what brings you to Exmoor House so early? Is everything all right?”
Despite his own reservations about being able to judge a woman’s mood, Chiffley’s summation of the young duchess’s state of mind had been quite accurate. Diana did indeed have a brittle edge. She offered Max a tight smile. “I… If I’m being perfectly honest, no, I’m not all right. I—”
“Max, I’m sorry I took so long—oh…” Charlie breezed onto the terrace, then stopped short when she saw the duchess. “Oh, Diana. I had no idea you were here.”
Charlie’s cheeks turned the same blossom-pink hue as her morning gown as her gaze darted to Max. He gave a little shrug. If Diana guessed what they’d been up to last night, he wasn’t particularly bothered.
And perhaps Diana did have an inkling, because she blushed too. “Lady Charlotte, Your Grace… My apologies for intruding. I didn’t realize…I had no idea that you were otherwise engaged…I mean, of course you are engaged… Oh, drat.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I’m so nervous that I’m rambling and making such a hash of everything. That was not my intention at all.”
Max gestured to a pair of nearby footmen, and they both stepped forward to pull out chairs for Diana and Charlie. “Why don’t we all sit down, and then we can start again?” he said.
As the ladies took their seats, the tea and hot chocolate arrived. Charlie, who seemed to have recovered her equilibrium, played the role of hostess with aplomb.
“Now,” said Max when everyone was armed with cups of their preferred brew. “What can I do for you, Diana?”
Diana put down her cup of tea, and her gray gaze shifted between him and Charlie. “As a matter of fact, I’m quite pleased to find Charlie here as well because…” She lifted her chin. “Because I wanted to offer both of you a sincere apology for everything that transpired at the Royal Academy yesterday. Particularly you, dear Charlie. Of course, I had no idea that Cressida had arranged for that purported portrait of you to be part of the Exhibition—”
“As it happens, it is actually my portrait,” said Charlie quietly. “But the painting was only ever supposed to be displayed in the privacy of my own home. I have no idea how Cressida got her hands on it, nor why she’s so intent on ruining me.”
“Oh.” Diana blushed. “I see. I’m not sure why she’s so set against you either, Charlie. In any event, what I wanted to say was, I was so shocked when I saw your painting, my first reaction was to try and steer you away from it to save you from being embarrassed. In point of fact, I should have worked out a way to have it removed, but there were guards all about, and I was worried that I would be accused of stealing. And then I wasn’t sure I’d be able to lift it down from the wall. That gilt frame was quite elaborate, and there were guests everywhere—”
How to Catch a Devilish Duke: The Disreputable Debutantes Page 32
