Page 4 of Her Temporary Duke (Rakes and Roses #2)
C harlotte gaped. It felt like an eternity that she stood there looking at this handsome man with the noble appearance of a prince and the smile of a rogue. Her pulse quickened, and butterflies romped in her stomach. Control came quickly when she reminded herself that this man knew Amelia.
He is betrothed to my sister? Why would she not tell me? If she told me nothing else, why would she not share this with me!
“Betrothed or not, sir. It is not appropriate that you are in a lady’s bedchamber while she is dressing,” Charlotte said firmly.
The man smiled as though she had said something funny.
“I must apologize for not attending Hyde Park last week as promised. Urgent business with my solicitor detained me.”
He strolled across the room, casually walking over to the escritoire. As his eyes fell on the letter that Charlotte had begun to pen, she rushed toward it and folded it. He looked sidelong at her.
“You write to yourself, Amelia?”
Charlotte’s creativity deserted her in such close proximity to him. Those green eyes were the brightest and clearest she had ever seen. His face was not perfect—his nose was a tad too thin, and his jawline too sharp—but somehow, the whole was breathtaking in its beauty.
He is Amelia’s betrothed, so I cannot harbor any attraction for him. Yet I must be attracted to him until Amelia returns. I must live her life. Oh Lord, what a tangle! I will have words for her when I finally see her.
“Obviously, this is a letter for me, not by me,” Charlotte replied, “why would I address a letter to myself?”
“Indeed, but it looked incomplete. Who would send a half-finished letter?”
“Perhaps it is to be a serial as we get in the newspapers,” Charlotte suggested.
The smile broadened, and Charlotte found herself returning it. It was impossible not to. That smile was boyish and joyful, the smile of a man who loved life and could not contain that enjoyment. She found that she could think of no one else who gave her that feeling.
I think this man is interesting and hope that his claim to be betrothed to Amelia is not some wicked joke. Or that he and Amelia are already lovers. Oh Lord, I could not go that far to maintain a pretense!
She felt herself blushing at the thought.
It was all too easy to picture this man bereft of his clothes.
From his frame, she could tell that his physique was comparable to Hercules.
His coat and waistcoat did little to disguise the size of his arms and shoulders or the bulge of his pectoral muscles above a flat stomach.
The idea of that body against hers was intoxicating, deepening her blush.
But it would not be her name that he whispered in the throes of passion. It would be her sister’s…
That thought calmed her, acting like a bucket of cold water.
“I see Lady Prescott is fond of the French style for her family. It is rather complex to fasten and time-consuming to reverse the process. Very frustrating at times.”
Charlotte had half turned away from him and felt his fingers on the buttons that were undone to her shoulder blades. The meaning of his words struck her at once.
He is talking about undressing a woman wearing such a garment. Is he something of a rake? How could you become involved with such a man, Amelia?
Charlotte knew that the proper course of action was to step beyond the reach of his hands and demand he leave the room while she finished dressing, but she found herself reluctant to do so.
She found that she liked his proximity to her.
She breathed in his scent, musky and with a hint of spice. His touch was firm and confident.
She suppressed a gasp as she felt him lift her hair where it interfered with the buttons. She swallowed, knowing that her shoulders and the back of her neck were exposed to him. He could touch her before she knew what he was doing. Could kiss her...
“I did not know you had a birthmark…” Seth murmured.
She felt him touch the spot on her right shoulder, in the shape of a butterfly. Amelia had the same mark, but in the middle of her back.
“That is because I have not been this undressed in front of you before. Why would you know of it?” Charlotte put forward smoothly.
It was a gamble. Surely, Amelia would not have compromised herself with this man. It was also a question. His response would tell Charlotte much about his relationship with her sister.
“True,” Seth shrugged, continuing to fasten the buttons, “it is a very pretty birthmark. Discovering such a thing is often like unwrapping a birthday present. It is a pleasant surprise to discover.”
Charlotte turned, feeling the last button closed. She shook her hair to tumble about her face and fixed Seth with a glare.
“What an odd and entirely inappropriate thing to say to your betrothed!” she chided, protectiveness for her sister arising to the forefront. “The implication being that you enjoy unwrapping women and discovering that which they hide from the world!”
“Every man has a history. Your claim is on my present and future, not my past,” Seth replied.
“You admit to being... a... rake ?” Charlotte demanded.
For some reason, this accusation, which any decent gentleman would deny and be offended by, made his smile grow wider.
“I think my reputation spoke for itself when we met. You chose me and I have since been dedicated to you,” Seth added.
His words were entirely correct, but the gleam in his eye said that he did not mean them. He appeared to be engaged in a jest he found very funny, but was not willing to share with his audience, probably because it was made at the expense of his audience.
“That is most gratifying to know. Do you know that time has quite flown by since we met? I cannot even recall exactly how long it has been,” Charlotte stated, hoping to gather a little more insight into this peculiar relationship between this gentleman and her sister.
“I think it has been… two months. Yes, we were introduced at the Duke of Cornwall’s ball just a few days after Lady Sarah Vickers broke off her engagement to me.”
He was watching her intently, as though looking for a reaction.
It meant that his eyes were on her face.
It was not unpleasant to be the subject of such intense scrutiny.
Charlotte tried to put herself into Amelia’s shoes.
Her sister was a confident socialite, attending balls, luncheons, and galas frequently.
Relegated to the bottom of the hierarchy at Prescott by virtue of being a niece rather than a daughter, she was still competent at navigating the currents of the ton.
“Has it been that long? And when did you know that you wished to marry me?” Charlotte asked.
“Ah, you seek reassurance? Do you want to be reminded of the depth of my feelings? How should I respond? With honesty or with diplomacy?”
Seth had moved closer. Charlotte backed away as he did until she became aware that she had maneuvered herself into a trap. The bed barred her to the right and her nightstand to the left. Behind her was the wall.
“I should hope that you have always been honest with me,” Charlotte said, a touch breathless.
“But we are both familiar with the rules of the game, are we not? We exist within the ton and follow its rules. Such rules rarely touch on honesty. Here is my answer. I knew I wanted to marry you from the moment I first set my eyes upon you. I could never forget your dark eyes. So mysterious. So inviting…”
His tone became quiet as he spoke, almost fervent.
It was either passion or the appearance of it.
Charlotte felt her heart thudding against her bosom and was conscious of how her deep breathing would move that part of her body in a way a man would find enticing.
She fought to control the reaction her body felt to this man.
And what of his reactions to me? No, to Amelia. There is color in his cheeks. His lips are parted. Is it attraction? Desire? Or play-acting?
“Or perhaps I was instructed to woo Amelia Nightingale as you were deemed a suitable marriage match for a man of my rank,” Seth said, suddenly insouciant, even arrogant.
He was still close, close enough that Charlotte could reach out and touch him if she chose. She resisted the urge.
It would be a good way to judge how far this relationship has progressed and ensure he is well and truly snared for Amelia, unless this switch has been to get away from him.
“Which should I believe?” Charlotte asked, gazing into his eyes.
The insolent smile that had leaked across his face as he spoke was gone. A look of intensity replaced it, pinning her to the spot, refusing to release her to do so much as to look away.
“When did you decide you wanted to marry me?” he asked.
“I cannot recall. Perhaps I am not so sure that I do,” Charlotte murmured, forcing boldness into her voice.
This would be the test. A hint that she did not want to marry him would encourage a reaction. A man who was in love and believed her to be in love would surely be horrified at the suggestion that she might reject him. But Seth merely smiled.
Charlotte had the impression that this, at least, was a genuine emotion. It felt as though she were being allowed to see through a carefully constructed facade, to gaze beyond a mask worn to protect his true nature.
“Well, as to that, I, of course, would be devastated. Whether I am marrying you out of love or politics, losing you would be equally as disappointing,” he declared.
Somehow, he had moved closer. Charlotte could not back further away. Her head was filled with the aroma of his soap and his cologne. There was the suggestion of leather from his boots and possibly the saddle of the horse he had ridden to the Prescott Estate.
Is he seeking to kiss me to reinforce my impression of his feelings for me? Does Amelia kiss him on a regular basis? If I allow it, I might be helping her by cementing the bond with this man. Or I might be condemning her if she sought to get away from him.
Charlotte was momentarily frozen in indecision.
“Then convince me, Your Grace. Put aside any past history either of us has and behave as though we are meeting for the first time. Treat me as you would in those circumstances and we will see if I wish to marry you or not,” she said, suddenly inspired.
“Very well,” he smirked.
He lunged, catching Charlotte’s face between his hands and kissing her lips.
Charlotte froze for a long moment.
She raised her hands to tear his from her face, but her own touch simply rested on the backs of his hands, then slid down to his arms. She felt the muscle there, felt the controlled power and strength.
His lips were warm, making her own tingle.
A corresponding tingle began in the pit of her stomach, a warmth that spread out to her fingers and toes.
She spun even while she was pressed against the wood panel of the wall by his body.
A whimpered moan escaped Charlotte at the pleasure that coursed through her. She wanted more . More of his lips and his body against hers. His hands upon her, and her name from his mouth.
Except it wouldn’t be. It would be Amelia...
The spell was suddenly broken. She kicked his shins and then darted under his reach to the other side of the room.
Seth yelped, hopping as he clutched at his bruised shin.
“Your Grace, I am quite horrified at your display of how you would behave towards a woman you had only just met!” Charlotte gasped heavily, backing into the doorway so that she might close the door on him if he were to advance towards her.
“What the hell!” Seth barked, “And I thought we had agreed that you would address me as Seth? I cannot abide honorifics.”
“Very well, Seth . You cannot be angry with me, surely. I behaved entirely properly,” Charlotte stated, raising her chin.
“For a nun, yes. Entirely proper ,” he retorted, scrunching his nose.
Aunt Phyllis followed with a series of rapid taps at the door.
Lady Phyllis Willoughby of Prescott was a mouse of a woman.
Her forehead was high, and her auburn hair receded.
Her skin was pale, which, combined with her bony frame, made her seem overly fragile.
She smiled thinly at both Charlotte and Seth as though seeing nothing amiss in the two being alone in the room.
“Ah, there you are, Your Grace. I was told that you had arrived, but did not see you in the reception room as I would usually expect.”
“Forgive me, my lady, I wished to speak to my fiancée and could not wait,” Seth said with a charming smile.
“Of course, of course. Ah, young love. It is most gratifying to see. We shall be ready to take the carriages to Hyde Park momentarily for our promenade if the two of you would like to join us.”
Seth gave her a courteous bow and then headed out of the room. Charlotte hesitated, wondering if he would stop to offer his arm. But he did not.
He shows undue attention, implies rakish behavior, and is now downright rude. What manner of betrothal is this?
Aunt Phyllis waited for Charlotte.
“Such a lovely dress. I knew it would suit you, Amelia. I am so glad that His Grace seems to have put some color back in your cheeks. Perhaps all you needed was an overture of peace, hmmm?”
Charlotte followed her from the room, wondering at her words.
Was Amelia ill? Was she trying to end her engagement to this man? How should I proceed? I do not know what to do for the best so that I do not destroy my sister’s life!