Page 46 of Dukes All Night Long

W hen Sheffield had come to his study and told him Mrs. Beauchamp was in attendance, Nathaniel’s heart had stopped for the span of two beats.

Was she looking for another stranger to have a tryst with?

The idea of that restarted his heart, which left him clutching his chest to alleviate the excruciating pain.

He had to believe that she was here for him.

He scribbled a note, hurried out to the veranda, and waited patiently for her to arrive. .. or not.

Every muscle in his body that still functioned had melted when he’d heard her approach. When she’d spoken, he hoped to win her over.

Holding her in his arms now, he debated what to do.

He knew what he wanted to do—what his body craved to do—but was it too soon?

After what they’d shared two nights ago, was anything with Charlotte too soon?

At least physically. Emotionally, they were complete strangers, with only one thread in common: Hugh.

“Shall I escort you to your carriage?”

“In a minute,” she mumbled, and the vibration against his chest made him smile. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything.” He held his breath as he waited.

“Will you kiss me?” As she whispered the words, her body trembled in his arms. Was she nervous or anticipating the kiss?

He stepped back a tad, cupped her cheeks, leaned down, and placed his lips to hers.

The connection had him groaning. Her lips were soft and full, and he needed to taste more of her.

His tongue ran across her lips, and hers parted with a sigh.

His tongue swept inside her mouth, which tasted like his favorite brandy.

A second ticked by, and her tongue joined his, and they tangled and battled for control.

All he could think was they had too many clothes on as his member strained painfully against the fall of his breeches, begging to be let out. He broke the kiss and buried his face against her neck. “You have bewitched me.”

She laughed. “Not nearly as much as you have used your sorcerous powers on me.”

“If only I had such powers.”

“If only we both did.”

“I’m going to escort you to your carriage now before I take you upstairs and ravish you.”

“Would that be so bad?” Her honest questions was a pleasant surprise.

“Not at all. But I’m saving that for the next masquerade ball, within the club’s darkness, our inhibitions cast into the wind as we make love for the second time.”

“Oh.”

Nathaniel took her hand, and once they were outside beside her carriage, he bowed and brought her hand up to his lips, brushing them across the pulse point on her wrist and lingering for several seconds. He couldn’t help but smile as she sighed. “Until the next ball, my dear Charlotte.”

As Nathaniel watched Charlotte’s carriage travel down the road, taking her away from him, he thought back to when he’d opened the club for the very first time.

It was six months ago, and he’d had several purposes in mind.

First, he had wanted to offer employment to the loyal men who served under his command.

Some of them had physical impairments and would likely face challenges in finding regular work.

Other men needed a safe environment in which to work.

He also owned the townhouse next door, and some of his employees even lived there.

Some of them were already married with children.

After their service in the Navy and putting their lives in his hands, where he had failed them, he owed them and their families a good life.

The club was already quite profitable, and he had established bank accounts for his men.

When the club eventually closed—as all good things must come to an end—he wanted them to be financially secure.

It was the least he could do for them for having trusted their lives to him.

With other profits, he supported naval widows who had no other means of support or family to care for them.

But another reason he’d opened the club was to provide himself with a space to socialize with others from his social class without being whispered about or given the cut direct because of his disfigurement.

He had also desired a venue where gentlemen and ladies alike could relax and be themselves—like he could—without reproach or risk of scandal.

He believed he had accomplished all he set out to do. And more.

*

Charlotte pressed her palm against the coach window, straining to see Nathaniel as he disappeared when the carriage wheels carried her father away from him.

Finally, she leaned back, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

She didn’t know how to process everything Nathaniel had told her that night.

There were many things she wanted to understand about him.

Why did he hide behind a mask within the doors of Club Knight?

What about being a duke? Didn’t he have ducal obligations?

How could he possibly manage it all within the time constraints of a day?

Fortunately, she’d had the foresight to tell Lucy she didn’t need her to wait up.

Having had no idea what might transpire that night, she’d thought it would be best to be alone with her jumbled thoughts and the desire for her mystery man—Nathaniel—coursing through her veins.

How easy it had been when she had been innocent and Hugh was courting her.

She had felt desire then, but the innocent version of herself didn’t know what came next.

Now, she was all too well acquainted with the physical demands and immense pleasure her body could experience—pleasure at the wicked mouth, tongue, and hands of the duke.

Pleasure when he was seated deep inside her.

Oh dear, her hand flew to her chest, covering her pounding heart.

What if he changed his mind about her? As a new duke, he must have the Marriage Mart Mamas, their daughters, and any other ladies around her age vying for his attention and hoping to become the next Duchess of Tremont. How could she compete with them?

Perhaps she would be wise to stay away from him.

It would crush her, but she would get over him.

How silly it was to be attached to him after only two meetings.

No doubt he would seek solace in another lady’s arms tonight.

After all, it was socially acceptable for gentlemen to bed whomever they wished.

Although was it? Sometimes there were repercussions if one bedded an innocent—something she felt certain Nathaniel would never do.

She had a feeling his bed partners were other patrons of his club.

What happened at Club Knight stayed within those walls.

By the time she arrived home, she’d decided she needed a distraction.

For the next several days, she visited her neighbor, Jane Northrop, the Dowager Countess of Newton.

After Hugh passed away, Jane became a close friend.

They enjoyed each other’s company, regardless of the fact that the countess was in her sixties.

Many a day, they could be found in Jane’s drawing room reading or doing embroidery.

A visit to Jane always did her heart good.

*

Tuesday evening came, the night of the masquerade ball, and Charlotte didn’t have the courage to go to Club Knight.

She had planned to attend all day but lost her nerve when it was time to dress.

Instead, she went to bed early. Not that she slept.

Not with her mind envisioning what Nathaniel was doing.

Had he found a young lady to give him her favors?

Was he right now kissing someone in his private room upstairs at the end of the hall?

“Stop it,” she chastised herself loudly. “It’s your fault. You stayed home.” She rolled over onto her stomach and continued to argue with herself. They were strangers with a mutual connection—Hugh. Even if it felt like she’d known Nathaniel forever, she hadn’t.

Even so, it felt like there was an invisible thread pulling her toward him, but if she let it, would it strangle her?

Not to death, but tie her to him and never let her go?

She felt overwhelmed when near him, fearing she would lose herself in him.

She had never felt that way with Hugh, even though she’d loved him.

With Nathaniel, she didn’t know if it was love.

It was too soon. But there was something undeniable between them—a connection that defied reason.

Did he feel it as strongly as she did? Is that why he said she bewitched him?

If her mind weren’t so overwhelmed with imagining scenarios playing out between them, perhaps she could trust her intuition and let the attraction unfold as if they were on stage at Covent Garden.

Would it have a happy ending or be a terrible Shakespearean tragedy?

Tears dampened her pillow as she fell into a fitful sleep, haunted by visions of herself at Club Knight, running frantically through the eerily dark place, screaming Nathaniel’s name, with nothing but torrential rain and howling wind answering her.

*

Every nerve ending in Nathaniel’s being tingled with anticipation at the thought of seeing Charlotte tonight.

It had been a grueling five days of waiting for the masquerade to arrive.

Never had he been so moody and snappish with his friends and servants that they kept their distance, but they did tonight.

Did they know what was causing his moodiness?

Did they suspect it had to do with Mrs. Charlotte Beauchamp?

Thank goodness it was Tuesday and he would see her again.

With any luck, he would convince her to allow him to court her openly with the intention of a betrothal soon after.

But first, she had to see his face and the rest of his damaged body.

It wasn’t that he was vain—he had accepted the mutilation of his body.

After all, he was alive, and that was more than Hugh and many of his other men could say.

The self-pity he felt in the beginning was long gone.

Club Knight had helped him overcome it. When there, he could blend into the darkness and be whomever he desired to be.

And up until he met Charlotte, he was whoever the lady he entertained wanted him to be.

They loved the air of mystery surrounding his mask.

With Charlotte, he only wanted to be himself.

Charlotte had arrived the previous week at the stroke of midnight, and he’d waited as patiently as he was able until that moment.

But now the last time he had looked at his timepiece, it was half-past. She wasn’t coming.

The vibrations began in his hands and soon spread throughout his entire body, causing sweat to drip down the back of his shirt.

He suppressed the urge to run outside and howl at the moon, letting the world know he was in despair.

Instead, he took a full bottle of whisky into the ballroom and observed his guests from a delicate, feminine settee, aware that he overwhelmed it with his size.

He usually enjoyed watching his guests with their inhibitions gone, but not tonight.

When several masked ladies attempted to approach him, he growled at them.

It wasn’t long before he was left alone, which was good. He wasn’t fit for any company.

How long he sat there, he wasn’t sure, but when his eyes finally shifted to the closed, curtained windows, he saw the faint light beyond.

Sunrise was upon them, and they would close within half an hour.

With a heavy heart and an unusual sway in his step, due to the half-bottle of whisky he had consumed, he made his way to the entry hall where several of his men were gathered.

“Make sure no one is left behind and the place is locked up tight.” He took his cloak from the doorman.

“Call for my carriage. I’m going home to Tremont Manor. ”

Once he returned home and stumbled up to his chambers, he fell face first onto his bed and dismissed Spenser. Or at least he thought he did before he fell into a fitful sleep, his dreams starring Charlotte with another man—one with an undamaged face.