Page 23 of Her Temporary Duke (Rakes and Roses #2)
H ampton Court was resplendent with pageantry, a testament to the Prince Regent’s love of extravagance. Servants were dressed in faux medieval costumes, while the Lords of the court, who were competing in the contest, wore chain mail or even armor, always burnished into a mirror-bright shine.
The invitation from Seth had been extended to Charlotte’s family, and the three Willoughby women shared her carriage, all wearing new green bonnets.
Charlotte herself had opted for one of Amelia’s simpler gowns, colored in bronze and white.
It left her shoulders and arms bare. She enjoyed the feel of the summer air on her bare skin.
What she relished most on the carriage ride to the palace, though, was the notion that Seth would get to glimpse that pale, naked skin.
“My, the color truly has returned to your cheeks, Amelia, and more,” Aunt Phyllis began.
Charlotte realized that she had been flushing red from thoughts of Seth. Claire glanced at her and absently offered a fan she carried. Charlotte accepted it gratefully.
“You were looking so wan a few weeks ago, I was going to suggest a trip to the doctor. Though doubtless, he would recommend either bloodletting or a trip to the seaside. Quite why we pay such exorbitant fees for a physician who states the obvious, I do not know,” Aunt Phyllis prattled on.
“When my late Percival was suffering indigestion and heartburn, he told him to eat less red meat and drink less wine. Is that what all those years of training get you, I ask you?”
Charlotte, Francis, and Claire nodded and made the appropriate sounds, all occupied with their own thoughts. Charlotte could think of little else but Seth.
Now we understand each other. He knows I am not Amelia, but he cannot simply choose to pursue a woman who is not on his damnable list. And nothing can happen between us until Amelia has come forth to publicly reject him.
It was truly a conundrum.
She had written to an address in Scarborough, to Amelia, to inform her that the cat was out of the bag and waited for a reply. So did Seth. Amelia had a month to reply before the marriage clause took effect.
I will not think about it. She is in no immediate danger, she said so. She will arrive, and this mess will be sorted out. Then...
Her Aunt and cousins made impressed sounds as the carriage bore them through the grounds of Hampton Court and into the vast square before the entrance to the palace.
The palace rose around them in baroque splendor, a true demonstration of royal power and wealth.
Charlotte found it ostentatious and decadent, while the Willoughbys found it utterly mesmerizing.
“And we have you to thank, Amelia,” Aunt Phyllis was saying as a footman opened the door and began handing the ladies out, “first for your excellent fashion advice, and then for the generosity of your beau. The Duke of Bellmonte personally invited us to His Royal Highness’ annual tourney. How exciting!”
Charlotte was the last to disembark, her slippers finding the sun-warmed stones with careful grace. From beneath the brim of her sunhat, she surveyed the towering walls of the estate—until a familiar figure drew her gaze.
He was striding toward her, broad-shouldered and devastatingly composed, a sword slung at his hip and a polished helmet tucked under one arm.
Her breath stuttered.
Seth? Good heavens. What is he dressed as—
He looked like he’d ridden straight out of a troubadour’s ballad: every inch the knight-errant. Every inch not hers.
“Lady Amelia,” he greeted, the false name curling off his tongue with a crooked grimace. He bowed with courtly grace, golden hair catching in the sunlight. It slipped across his temples before he tossed it back with maddening ease.
Charlotte raised a brow, fingers tightening ever so slightly on the folds of her skirt. “Your Grace,” she replied evenly, “you look positively… chivalrous .”
His grin was a flicker, slow and wicked. “I have come to joust for your favor. Do I win a token?”
Claire and Francis made some breathless comment about his nobility. Charlotte didn’t hear it. His eyes hadn’t left hers.
He dipped low to kiss her gloved hand. His lips barely touched her fingers, but her breath caught all the same.
“I thank you for the praise,” he said, finally acknowledging the others, though his tone remained light. “Though I fear it is undeserved. This armor is wretchedly hot, and the Regent’s fondness for theatrics borders on criminal.”
“There you are, Bellmonte!” A loud bellow interrupted the moment.
The Earl of Tewkesbury strode into the courtyard, bedecked in mail and robes emblazoned with a heraldic crest in rather assertive shades of blue and white. On his arm clung a raven- haired woman with startling décolletage and a practiced glance she cast directly at Seth.
Charlotte saw Seth wince at the voice, then fix a smile on his face as he turned to greet the newcomer.
“My dear friend, Tewkesbury,” he greeted with a bow.
“May I introduce Lady Monica Hellespont of Penzance. Widow to the late Marquis of Penzance,” Tewkesbury grinned.
She smiled at Seth, who bowed stiffly, briefly touching a hand offered for kissing. He kissed the air an inch above it. Charlotte smiled inwardly, a sense of ownership warming her at the sight of his rejection of a beautiful and clearly available woman.
Why does she behave so if she is here with the Earl of Tewkesbury? Surely, he is jealous.
“You have certainly integrated yourself into society well since emerging from the wilds of Gloucestershire,” Seth murmured to Tewkesbury.
For a heartbeat, the Earl’s practiced smile faltered. He disentangled Lady Monica’s arm from his with surprising haste.
“Yes, I suppose so,” he said, adjusting his cuffs distractedly. “One must make an effort. Throw oneself into the current, as it were. To show willingness.”
“To drown, you mean?” Seth replied mildly, offering his mail-clad arm to Charlotte.. The metal was cold, but she could imagine the warmth of the body beneath. The armor could not disguise the strength of the man inside.
“If your aim is to be accepted,” Seth continued, “then yes. But I’ve never cared to be accepted. By anyone.”
“Surely, not anyone ,” Lady Monica purred. “Your betrothed, for instance. You must have striven to win the heart of such a lady. I flatter myself that I know what it is like to be pursued by a gentleman.”
“Did I strive to win your heart, dearest?” Seth asked Charlotte with a playful smile.
“You positively strove to chase me away, I should say,” she giggled.
“Surely not. That is no way to secure a wife,” Tewkesbury put in, arching a brow.
“And yet, here we are,” Seth shrugged, patting Charlotte’s gloved hand.
“Did you not wish to marry Lady Nightingale then?” Lady Monica asked, arching a brow.
She had contrived to move closer to Seth and stand before him with her exposed bosom heaving.
Tewkesbury had stepped aside to permit her maneuver.
Charlotte felt a pang of envy and pressed herself closer to Seth’s side.
She glanced up at him, and he looked back, ignoring the expanse of female flesh on display.
“I thought myself as free as a bird and jealously protective of that fragile freedom. I thought marriage would end that, so I thought differently of it than I do now,” Seth explained.
“I should say, that marriage is certainly a loss of freedom,” Tewkesbury put in, “when one has his pick of the women.”
Seth glanced at Tewkesbury, frowning.
“Well, I should say that this is a fine talk for a royal palace. Shall we go in, gentlemen?” Aunt Phyllis added, “Come along, girls.”
She gathered a daughter on each arm and led the way toward the entrance door. Seth’s eyes never left Tewkesbury, a curious expression plastered on his face.
“Shall we?” Charlotte whispered.
Seth started and then grunted. He gave a perfunctory nod to Tewkesbury and Lady Monica, then led Charlotte towards the entrance.
“I do not like that man,” he murmured for her ears alone as they strolled. “There is something about his manner lately that makes me think...”
Charlotte frowned. “Think what? He seems harmless enough to me.”
Seth glanced down at her. “Your sister would have seen more with her knowledge of the ton and their machinations. He is up to something. It was almost as if he were presenting me with that woman as though to tempt me. And it is not the first time he has behaved thusly. There was a woman at Catesby’s that he practically shoved into my path. ”
Charlotte was only half-listening. “If Amelia is so wonderful as a navigator of the Ton, then why do you not just marry her?”
“Marry Amelia? Or marry this Amelia ?” he smirked.
“The first is in Scarborough and unwilling to marry you by her own account,” she pointed out less-than-subtly.
He groaned theatrically. “But I doubt her letter will be accepted by Tharpe Monkton. It would be simple enough for me to have a letter written in a female hand. I could have done it in one day for each woman I was supposed to marry and be free.”
“You are free,” she reminded him, “to choose as you will.”
“We both know that is untrue,” he shook his head. “My father’s former solicitor is no naif, and I would prefer not to test his scruples. I cannot prove that you are not Amelia. She needs to be here with us to prove that. Only then will I be free.”
“As will I. To go back to Yorkshire and my old life,” Charlotte sighed.
They were ambling through the magnificent Great Hall of Hampton Court, towards the inner courtyard where they would be greeted by the Regent. The splendor was lost on Charlotte. Her attention was focused on Seth, trying to puzzle out his intentions.
Is he saying that once Amelia makes an appearance in person, there will be no further contact between us?