Page 37 of A Lady’s Dangerous Secret (Scandalous Secrets #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

F amily.

James stopped dreaming at a young age of what it would be like to have a mother, father, and maybe even siblings.

But now, he looked around the dining table and saw that previously unattainable image before his eyes.

Although he was still angry at his father, he could not help his heartstrings from tugging as he shared a meal with his parents and his half-sisters.

His mother had accepted the Duke’s letter begging for forgiveness and the ducal carriage that had accompanied the note. His mother wrote to James that she was making haste to London to see for herself if her beloved husband truly lived.

James was with the Duke when his mother arrived and alighted from the carriage.

He witnessed the mix of emotions that crossed her face.

Her mouth fell open, then she began to cry before she rushed into her husband’s open arms. His petite mother sobbed into the Duke’s jacket, the top of her head not even reaching his shoulders.

Her sobs quickly morphed into screams, and she proceeded to punch him furiously.

James smiled as he recalled the deluge of expletives with which his normally mild-mannered mother assaulted the Duke.

“James, you appear quite amused,” his mother inquired from her position next to her husband, eschewing Society’s expectation for her to sit at the opposite end of the table. The two could not keep their eyes off each other. He felt as if he intruded upon a young couple in love.

“You look happy, Mother,” James responded, covering up the true nature of his grin.

His mother blushed like a schoolgirl and glanced at the Duke under her dark lashes. “I never thought this day would come.”

“I will spend the rest of my life making up for every day we were apart,” the Duke vowed.

James’s coldness toward his father had thawed slightly.

He could only hold on to his anger for so long now that he saw how much the Duke truly cared for his mother.

However, James clung to his spite as much as he could.

Letting down his guard entirely would make him exposed, and James’s life had taught him that the only person upon whom he could depend was himself.

Moreover, he still had trouble thinking of the Duke as his father.

James never knew how to imagine his missing parent, but it had never crossed his mind that his real father would be one of the highest members of the aristocracy.

After James’s deprived childhood, it was hard for him to reconcile this fact.

Nevertheless, he could not deny he did resemble his father in some ways, and he was trying to think of him as such.

“Father, it seems you are asking for immortality,” James’s half-sister Genevieve quipped as she raised her left eyebrow and gave her father an impudent stare.

Sister! Never in James’s wildest dreams would he have not one but four sisters.

Genevieve must have taken after her mother with her thick, curly mahogany hair and dark eyes.

His other sister who was in Town, Celine, mirrored the Duke with her sandy-blonde hair and hazel eyes.

He had not met his other two sisters, since they were married and in the countryside with their families.

Besides never imagining he would have four siblings, James did not think he would hear one of them challenging a duke at the dinner table.

He was realizing that his newly discovered family did not act like most of the ton , despite being in their upper echelon .

He was also coming to terms with the fact he was a part of—no, peripherally related to—the social class he despised.

Proof of his parents’ marriage had not been found, so he remained the bastard that his uncle accused him of being.

His family’s voices faded into the background while James ruminated over what Lottie would think if he remained born on the wrong side of the blanket.

He tried to convince himself that she would not mind, but the fear that he would significantly lower her station nagged at him.

They had not discussed such hypothetical situations just yet.

Lottie had been convalescing at her aunt’s town house for the past several weeks, and when he visited, chaperoned of course, he tried not to bring up any of the recent frightening events.

She luckily had her courses, so they could have the formal courtship they had skipped at a more leisurely pace.

However, it was still not the standard wooing of a typical debutante.

No, James’s bride-to-be was recovering from a gunshot wound.

He ran his hand through his hair, despite being seated at the table, and chided himself again for not protecting her.

The ton , on the other hand, did not see their situation in the same light.

The gossipmongers were beside themselves with the romantic story of a naval hero who was the long-lost son of a duke, rescuing a damsel in distress.

If only they knew.

Charlotte gazed out the window of her aunt’s drawing room.

She was improving, and moved around the town house without excruciating pain in her upper arm.

Although Dr. Stone had removed the stitches from her wound, he continued to order her to rest and stay indoors.

It was becoming harder and harder to do so as Charlotte became more restless.

The only time she felt a sense of calm was when James came to visit.

Those stormy gray eyes were not so stormy anymore.

She liked to tell herself it was all because of her, but she knew finding his family played a large role as well.

She was sure of this since the Duke no longer had the melancholic look in his eyes.

Making their family whole had been a boon to everyone.

She and James talked about nothing and everything at the same time.

They had skipped so many steps in getting to know each other that it felt as if Charlotte was discovering him anew.

James told her about the attack on his ship and the cannonballs that had splintered the deck’s wood and injured his arm, leaving the gruesome scars.

He recounted his oppressive childhood under his uncle, but also how he met Jack Doherty when his now friend tried to steal a loaf of bread from him.

In return, Charlotte opened up about feeling like the forgotten fifth throughout her life and the bravado she used to hide it.

She regaled James with her exploits as a rambunctious child, trailing behind her older brothers.

Once they had bared enough of their souls to each for the time being, the pair stayed on lighter topics.

Charlotte was learning all of James’s favorites.

His favorite color was the blue of the ocean when it was tinged with gold from the rising sun.

His favorite food was anything that was fresh and not salted, due to his years at sea.

His favorite season was one where he could be on the deck of a ship and neither freeze nor be fried by the sun.

Charlotte smiled at his practicality. He had lightened up significantly, but he was still too serious for his own good.

She would have to find a food he truly enjoyed, ones that made him moan with delight.

Her cheeks heated as she thought of what else could satisfy James.

With their chaperoned visits, they did not have any time alone, which had not bothered Charlotte right after her injury.

But now that she was on the mend, being in the same room as James without the ability to touch him was pure torture.

Her chastity was not the only thing that bothered Charlotte.

As she became more mobile, Charlotte noticed there were men outside her home whenever she looked out the window.

She brought it up with James the day prior, and he shrugged it off.

After all the recent attempts on her life, he would not act this nonchalantly unless he knew exactly what was afoot.

He must be hiding something from her, and Charlotte did not like it one bit.

She was not some helpless miss, and she needed to be apprised of what was going on, especially with regard to her own life.

She had never let a man control her before, and she was not going to start now.

A knock on the drawing room door interrupted her thoughts.

“Come in.”

Robinson opened the door. “Captain Hughes seeks your audience.”

“Bring him in and call for Bailey.”

“Yes, Lady Charlotte.”

Despite Charlotte’s frustration, her breath caught when James crossed the threshold into the room.

He was dressed like a proper aristocrat with his smartly tied cravat, fitted coat, and snug breeches that accentuated the muscular definition of his legs.

His black top-boots gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through the windows.

This cultured look was his new uniform since he had resigned his naval commission.

The Duke had insisted that James learn how to manage the ducal estates instead of continuing his military career.

Even if Westcliffe’s marriage to James’s mother was not proven, the Duke intended to bequeath his unentailed properties to James.

James had fought the offer at first, not wanting to be part of the despised ton, but he finally acquiesced.

He admitted to Charlotte that the driving force was wanting her to have the life to which she was accustomed, despite the glaring fact that he was still a bastard.

Silly man.

Charlotte was the forgotten fifth , and James’s love was all she needed. She tried to convince him that she did not care about titles or material goods, but he would not budge.

James purposefully crossed the room toward where Charlotte sat near the window.

“Lottie, what troubles you?”

Charlotte paused. No one, not even Arthur, had ever been so attuned to her emotions.

“I…”