Page 15 of A Lady’s Dangerous Secret (Scandalous Secrets #1)
CHAPTER NINE
J ames awoke the next morning just as dawn broke, and felt his head pound and his stomach churn as much as it did after a grueling battle. He pulled himself out of bed, still in his clothes from the night before. He shuffled to the wash basin and splashed cold water on his face.
Fresh air.
He needed fresh air before he cast up his accounts. Being out in the open would clear his head. He washed and changed into fresh clothes before leaving the town house from the back.
James reached the mews while the sky slowly illuminated the sky.
The stable was quiet at this early hour, and he saddled his horse.
He mounted the gelding and rode to Hyde Park.
The freshest air was at sea, but in London, a horse ride in the park would have to do.
However, the tension he held in his shoulders was exacerbated by the stiff way he rode, causing him to regret his choice of early morning activity.
Not one to quit, he continued to the park. Once he made it through the gates, James nudged his horse into a trot, and soon a canter.
A canter was not enough.
He urged his horse into a gallop, despite his poor riding skills. He wanted a bruising ride with a sense of danger to make him feel alive and forget the toll the hangover took on his body. The wind whipped across his face, and his muscles flexed in exertion. On and on he rode, deeper into the park.
Then he saw her.
Suddenly, he pulled back on the reins, and the emotions that had been disappearing rushed forth once again.
“You,” he growled at the familiar figure on horseback.
“James? Whatever is the matter?”
“Nothing.”
Charlotte’s brow furrowed in consternation. “Something definitely happened. What is it?”
“You should be getting ready for duchess duty. I am not the man for you.”
Irritation flashed across her face.
“I told you…I must marry the Duke. I have no choice.”
“But what if you had a choice?” James challenged.
“You’re asking me about a hypothetical situation.”
“It should be an easy answer if last night meant nothing,” James said. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he wanted to know how Charlotte felt.
Charlotte took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, as if searching for answers from the heavens. Finally, she lowered her gaze and fixated on James. “Last night was everything. I felt a fire inside of me I didn’t know existed. But my fate has been determined.”
“I want you to come to Gabe’s town house tonight.”
Charlotte looked taken aback. “Are you fit for Bedlam? With his mother and sister there?”
“No. His other town house. I’ll make sure he’s not using it. It would give us one night together before you marry the Duke.”
Charlotte worried her lower lip, turning the proposition over in her mind.
If only she knew what that thought did to him.
Her eyes refocused on his, and her chin tilted stubbornly. “I’ll come. I want to experience something that is my choice, not something laid out for me before I’m forced to become a wife.”
“I’ll meet you by your aunt’s mews at midnight.”
Charlotte nodded. Without another word, she turned and rode away.
James was dismissed.
Charlotte went through the motions of the day: visiting hours, social calls, and idle conversations, all while wondering what the night would bring.
She was a mix of emotions ranging from angst and guilt to anticipation and excitement.
She had bolted from Hyde Park after accepting the foolhardy proposition from James.
She had acted with her heart, not her mind, and she had a terrible inkling it would lead to trouble.
Return to reason.
Charlotte, the forgotten fifth, had been noticed for who she was, not just a dowry or a broodmare, and she could not deny the heat between them.
She told herself their liaison would assuage the flaming desires between them before her marriage to the Duke; thus, helping the union in the long term.
Men behaved improperly all the time with no recourse.
She, a woman, deserved one cherished memory to carry with her into a marriage of convenience.
Charlotte told herself, it is a perfectly reasonable plan . A nagging feeling in her gut told her it was wrong, but she chose to ignore it.
After she completed the afternoon’s forced social obligations, she slumped into the upholstered chair in her bedroom, ready for a break. Just as she leaned back and closed her eyes, a knock sounded on the door, and Bailey entered and walked briskly toward her.
“Milady, your aunt ordered me to dress you for your ride in Hyde Park with His Grace.”
Charlotte groaned. With so much on her mind, she had already forgotten about her outing with the Duke.
Bailey looked at her apologetically. “Lady Hardwicke would like you to wear your new riding habit.”
Charlotte reluctantly raised herself from the chair, and Bailey proceeded to dress her in a green woolen skirt accompanied by a tight-fitting jacket with brass military-style buttons, which glistened in the daylight filtering through the window.
“A riding habit befitting a duchess,” her aunt had crooned in the modiste’s shop.
Charlotte wished she could dress Aunt Frances in these ridiculous costumes and have her go in her place.
Her aunt truly enjoyed being on display, and a ride down Rotton Row with the Duke of Westcliffe would suit her perfectly.
Charlotte shook her head, picturing her aunt stuffed into her petite outfit, smiling obscenely and waving to the ton from her seat next the Duke.
“Lady Charlotte?” Bailey said.
The vision evaporated. Alas, this was her own fate, and she had to do whatever was necessary to marry Westcliffe. She sat at the vanity with resignation, her shoulders curled forward. She was in no mood to be paraded about with the Duke, but she had to prevail. Her life depended on it.
Bailey tugged at her hair, which forced Charlotte to straighten her posture.
Yes, I can do this, she coaxed herself.
Bailey rearranged Charlotte’s mane into a low chignon that accommodated a matching, jauntily set chapeau. Like her aunt, it included a dramatic flair with a feather proudly fastened to the fabric.
Her lady’s maid arranged the hat and gave it one final tug.
Bailey stepped back to appraise her handiwork as Charlotte looked at herself in the mirror and saw a stranger.
She was still not used to seeing herself adorned in the latest fashions like the rest of the ladies of the ton .
In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.
“You did well,” Charlotte said.
Bailey curtseyed and left the room.
Charlotte took one last look at her alien appearance.
I can do this , she repeated to herself and went downstairs. Her aunt must have been impatiently awaiting her arrival, because she immediately swept into the entrance hall.
“I knew this riding habit would fit you the best!” Aunt Frances clasped her hands together, pleased with herself.
A rap sounded on the front door.
“Robinson, wait a moment,” her aunt said.
She marched over to Charlotte and grabbed her upper arm. Her aunt tugged her away from the door. “You must be in the drawing room. You cannot look as if you’re hovering near the door in anticipation.”
Charlotte let herself be dragged into the drawing room and positioned on a settee. There was no sense in fighting her aunt. She just wanted to be free of her talons as quickly as possible.
Aunt Frances sat in a nearby chair and then shook out the skirt of her gown so it fell naturally around her legs.
“Sit up straight, Charlotte. You must always look impeccable.” She pushed her shoulders back in acquiescence. Her aunt gave one last apprising look before she plastered a placid expression on her face, as if she had been whiling the day away in a field of flowers.
Aunt Frances’s skills were endless.
“His Grace, the Duke of Westcliffe,” Robinson announced. Charlotte and her aunt stood and greeted the Duke.
“Wonderful to see you both. Lady Charlotte, you look lovely today.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Charlotte responded politely. It was not the Duke’s fault he was not James, but it was still hard for her to muster sufficient enthusiasm for their ride in the park.
Her aunt had no such problem. “What a splendid day for a carriage ride.”
“Indeed, it is. I admit, I’m looking forward to being back in the country where the air is truly refreshing.”
Her aunt smiled and the Duke offered Charlotte his arm.
They walked out of the drawing room and outside, where the Duke led Charlotte to his awaiting curricle.
He helped Charlotte into the carriage himself.
She could not help but note the gorgeous, matching black horses that would lead them for their ride.
The horses’ coats possessed a healthy sheen and shimmered in the hazy daylight.
The Duke climbed in beside her and took the reins. He made himself comfortable while Charlotte straightened the skirts of her riding habit.
“You have a beautiful curricle, Your Grace,” she commented with a sense of awe.
His mouth quirked up on one side. “Lady Charlotte, I may be older than you, but I’m not on my deathbed. I still enjoy a proper ride.”
Although she knew he was teasing, she could feel her cheeks flush. “I would never imply such a thing. You appear quite hale and hearty.”
He chuckled and then snapped the reins. They engaged in some idle chitchat about the weather so the Duke could concentrate on driving to the park. Even in Mayfair, there could be a cart or errant pedestrian suddenly in the way of the carriage.
Fortunately, their drive was uneventful, and they promptly found themselves on Rotten Row.
The Duke expertly maneuvered the carriage down the treelined bridlepath.
It was refreshing to see some greenery in the midst of the filth and grayness of London.
Rotten Row was replete with aristocrats on horseback and in equipages, moving slowly to ensure their presence was noted by those around them.