Page 28 of Her Temporary Duke (Rakes and Roses #2)

“ D id you enjoy your evening at the theater, my lady?” Marie asked as she opened the curtains of Charlotte’s— Amelia’s —room at Prescott Estate.

Charlotte stirred from a dream of Seth. She felt far too warm beneath the bedclothes, her nightgown twisted and clinging. She stretched, aware of her body as she had never been before.

Can I still feel Seth’s hands on me? His mouth? Or is it the memory of the dream?

The evening and the dream had blended together.

Charlotte had felt as though she walked a tightrope, a knife’s edge of desire.

One slip, and she would have given herself entirely to Seth.

She still yearned to. They had stopped short of that at the theater, but Seth’s skill had led to Charlotte writhing with hands clamped over her mouth, while below them, the actors decried and proclaimed.

This time, she had made Seth show her how his generosity could be reciprocated.

She sat up in bed, blushing furiously at the memory of the intense pleasure she had derived in the moment she had taken Seth to the point of glorious climax.

“Are you too warm, my lady?” Marie asked.

“Far too warm,” Charlotte nodded quickly.

Marie opened a window and stripped off the topmost blanket from Charlotte’s bed.

“Ah, you have post this morning,” the maid noted, indicating a tray on Charlotte’s bedside table, “perhaps a long-awaited letter from Lady...” She looked around, “... Amelia ,” she finished quietly.

Charlotte took up the only letter on the tray, excited until she saw the handwriting. It was not Amelia’s. She sighed, opening the envelope and unfolding the paper within.

“It is from the… Earl of Tewkesbury,” she commented, frowning. “I cannot think why he is writing to me, except...”

She fell quiet as she read. Marie stopped folding the blanket she held and waited.

“He asked me to meet him at Vauxhall Gardens this morning. He wishes to discuss my betrothal to the Duke of Bellmonte. He believes he has information that I would wish to hear before proceeding any further into that engagement.”

She glanced at her maid in consternation. “Whatever can he mean, do you think?” she asked.

“I cannot imagine, my lady. Unless he learned of the ruse you and Lady Amelia have been at,” Marie murmured.

“He can’t have. At least, I don’t think he has. But I don’t know what interest he can have in my betrothal. It does not concern him at all.”

Marie smiled to herself and went on with her chores.

“What is it, Marie?” Charlotte asked.

“Nothing, begging your pardon, my lady. Just that maybe he does have an interest... in you , I mean to say. Perhaps he seeks to try and win you over from His Grace, the Duke.”

Charlotte found herself blushing. Nothing about the Earl had drawn her to him, but it was flattering to think that she was desirable.

What nonsense! That cannot be it!

“I do not think so, but thank you for the compliment. There must be another reason, I think,” she pondered aloud.

“Do not sell yourself short, my lady. You have all of Lady Amelia’s beauty and grace in spades,” Marie insisted, “and the longer you are in London, the more interest you will attract, mark my words.”

She harrumphed. “I do not care for interest. I am only interested in one man, and...” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my, I have never said that aloud, I don’t think. Or allowed myself to think it.”

“To think what, my lady?”

“That I...” Charlotte began before stopping herself. “I am getting carried away. I should not. It will tempt fate. I am attracted to the Duke. Let that be all for now.”

But Marie’s knowing smile did not disappear, and the words that Charlotte would not allow herself to speak aloud reverberated inside her head.

Charlotte walked one of the many paths of the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, a parasol shielding her from the sun, and Marie keeping her company.

The walk was lined with tall, lush trees, and the fantastically rococo Turkish Tent was visible in the distance.

Between two of the walks, an orchestra was playing upon a grassy square, viewed by dozens of people, either seated or standing.

Charlotte ambled meekly, enjoying the music that drifted over to her. The sun was warm on her face, and she felt a moment of peaceful contentment.

Ahead of her, she gradually became aware of two men cutting through the crowd in her direction.

She recognized one of them as the Earl of Tewkesbury.

The sense of peace vanished, replaced by a tension in her stomach.

He looked intent. The other man held a bag under one arm as though it contained the crown jewels, and his thin smile had an air of anticipation.

“Lady Nightingale, you look radiant as ever! May I call you Amelia?” Tewkesbury exclaimed from afar as he hastened to close the distance between them.

“You may, my lord,” Charlotte mumbled. She looked to the man who stood at Tewkesbury’s shoulder inquiringly.

“May I introduce Mr. Tharpe Monkton, a solicitor who is currently...”

“A solicitor ,” Monkton interrupted smoothly, directing a telltale glance at Tewkesbury. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Nightingale.”

“A pleasure to meet you, too,” Charlotte greeted politely.

She looked back at Tewkesbury questioningly.

“Your letter stated that you wished to discuss something related to my betrothal, and now I find you have brought your solicitor to our meeting. I must say, I am rather intrigued about what you wish to discuss,” she began, forehead creasing.

“Shall we walk as we talk?” the earl grinned, casting a significant look at the number of people around them.

“A few hundred yards away from the orchestra would be advisable to avoid being overheard,” Monkton put in.

“Very well,” Charlotte nodded.

She began strolling away from the growing crowd that was gathering to watch the orchestra. Taking a turn, she continued down a path along a narrower thoroughfare, lined with benches set back from the walkway. There were fewer promenaders here, though every shaded nook appeared occupied.

“Now, the matter I wish to discuss with you concerns the behaviour of your betrothed, and the… impact such behaviour may have on your pristine reputation,” Tewkesbury started.

“Behaviour?” Charlotte’s brows knit with confusion. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, though a nagging feeling had begun growing in fear of what he was alluding to. “I would be grateful if you would speak plainly, sir.”

“His infidelity,” Monkton put in from his position behind and to one side.

Charlotte stopped, whirling to look at the solicitor.

“Please, may we walk on so as not to attract too much attention?” Tewkesbury tried to assuage.

“When that comment is explained,” Charlotte snapped firmly.

Tewkesbury cast an exasperated look at Monkton. Charlotte glanced from one man to the other, nodded, and resumed walking.

“It comes as no surprise to you that your betrothed comes with a checkered past,” Tewkesbury continued smoothly.

“None,” Charlotte replied.

“I believe that he has been unfaithful to you. I believe a betrothal is as serious a vow as one of marriage, and as binding.” The Earl scrunched his nose, “Now, it may be an old-fashioned and unpopular view in London, but I see it that way. Therefore, I feel a compulsion to confess, I have reason to believe that your future husband has been unfaithful. On two occasions, at least that I know of.”

Charlotte nodded vaguely, mind reeling.

Surely, he would not betray me after all we have said. But perhaps it is his nature.

No! She could not believe that. This was undoubtedly a misunderstanding.

“Where and when?” she asked icily.

“The first occasion I know of was at the club, Catesby’s. The second was last night at the Theater Royal, Drury Lane,” Tewkesbury said seriously.

Charlotte gaped at him for a moment. He looked back with solemn eyes, unflinching.

He believes it. This is an act of kindness to spare me the ignominy of the man I am promised to. But it cannot be accurate. I was with Seth at the theater and the club. There was no other woman.

“Do you know the identity of the woman concerned? Or is there more than one?” she inquired.

“There is only one. Her name is Charlotte.”

Charlotte burst into laughter before she could stop herself. She put a hand to her mouth, trying to contain it. Tewkesbury exchanged surreptitious looks with Monkton, who was scrutinizing Charlotte closely.

“Do excuse my mistress, gentlemen,” Marie put in swiftly with chagrin. “This is her ordinary reaction when taken by surprise. A nervous reaction, I’m sure you will understand.”

“Of course,” Monkton nodded soberly. “It is news of great import after all.”

“Yes… great import,” Tewkesbury parroted after a heartbeat. “Which brings me to my next point. We can help you extricate yourself without risk to your reputation from your unfortunate engagement with this morally bankrupt man.”

“Who is this Charlotte you speak of?” Charlotte interrupted.

“We have not been able to uncover the specifics, but we shall,” the solicitor put in once more.

“I believe I saw her at the club,” Tewkesbury ran a hand along his jaw, “but she wore a mask. Which means she was a staff member. As for the theater, that information comes to me secondhand.”

He looked at Monkton, who smiled confidently.

“I have it on good authority. Impeccable sources that when he arrived at the theater with your good self, he was heard to use the name Charlotte when in the privacy of his box. Presumably, you had left at that point?”

Charlotte wanted to laugh again, but contained herself. It might make them suspicious.

“I… see. Yes, now that I recall, I did leave. I felt somewhat fatigued and did not stay for the entire performance,” she noted instead.

“As we thought,” Tewkesbury exclaimed, smiling in triumph.

“But as I vowed, we can save you from scandal and embarrassment, Lady Amelia. Mr. Monkton has an affidavit that states that the Duke has been unfaithful, and as a consequence, to formally dissolve the betrothal between the two of you. It includes witness statements to his infidelity and only awaits your signature.”

Monkton reached into his bag to produce a piece of paper crowded with writing, but with an empty space at the bottom.

He then produced an ink pot and pen. Charlotte looked at the paper and tried to keep the horror from her face.

She knew very well that this paper would doom Seth and form the evidence that he had broken the rules of the marriage clause.

But how could she avoid having to sign it without causing suspicion?

“May I ask, my lord, why are you so keen for me to do this?” she directed at Tewkesbury, slowing her pace to a crawl.

“Outside of a moral obligation, let’s say…

I have a more emotional stake in this matter,” Tewkesbury enunciated slowly.

“My sister was once betrothed to this man, this… rake . He made her think he was in love with her and then betrayed her. She was left with a tarnished reputation and a shattered heart. I seek a measure of revenge,” he uttered coldly, “but most of all, to prevent any other woman from falling into his dastardly clutches.”

He had taken Monkton’s paper to be signed and held it before Charlotte, stopping and facing her now. Monkton held the ink pot in the palm of one hand and was dipping the pen into it. Charlotte licked her lips and exchanged looks with Marie, who frowned and gave the smallest shake of her head.

I am not na?ve enough to see that signing such a document would be a mistake of huge proportions, but how can I refuse? I do not want them to question that I am Amelia.

“This is hardly the place for such an undertaking. I will take this,” she took the paper from Tewkesbury’s hand, “and read it at home so that I may thoroughly examine it.”

There was a tremble in her voice. She cleared her throat, padding it.

“You should take a cool drink to soothe your throat, my lady, and a fitful rest. It is all such a sudden and troubling revelation,” Marie put in.

“You are quite right, Marie,” Charlotte nodded soberly.

“Then allow us to escort you. The Chinese Pavilion is not far, and they will give us a private table where we will not be overheard,” Tewkesbury said solicitously.

“I thank you for the offer, my lord, but I think the sun has been too much for me this morning,” she mumbled, forgetting the parasol she carried. “I should return to Prescott Estate and rest. I did not sleep well, and I fear this recent news shall do no good for my constitution.”

Charlotte had a sudden moment of terror that they would not let her leave, but would browbeat her into signing.

She began to panic until her eye fell on a small man with brick-red hair beneath his tricorn hat.

He was sitting on a bench a few yards away and was watching Charlotte with interest. She turned away, smiling.

“And I declare that the man over there on that bench is a journalist for a scandal sheet. I have no desire to accuse a man of adultery and be accused in turn of the same,” she put in shrewdly.

The effect on Tewkesbury was greater than she had anticipated. He whirled, staring about him in consternation. Monkton cursed under his breath, stoppered the ink, and thrust it back into his bag.

“We will bid you a good day, and I will send a clerk to your house to collect the signed papers, Lady Nightingale,” the Earl whispered hurriedly.

Charlotte watched, astonished, as he chivvied his solicitor back along the path at a fast walk.

“I did not think that would work so well…” Charlotte gawked after the pair. “Perhaps as his solicitor, it is Mr. Monkton’s job to keep the Earl out of the gossip rags.”

“Who is the man you spotted?” Marie asked curiously.

Charlotte looked around for the man, but he had already disappeared. She glimpsed the red hair briefly in between the trees.

“A man that Seth pointed out to me back at the Theater. And someone that those two men are deathly afraid of. I wonder why…”