Captive (31 page)

“I didn’t know His Grace was getting married,” the butler, Grimes, said.

“Oh, yes,” Charlotte replied. “To Lady Olivia Morgan, the Earl of Denbigh’s sister.”

The butler’s bushy eyebrows met with his hairline. “Did you say Denbigh? The same Denbigh that murdered the earl’s brother?”

“The same who killed him, but it wasn’t murder,” Charlotte corrected him as she invited herself inside.

Grimes gave her breeches and man’s shirt a
once over and said, “Does the bride bear any resemblance to you?”

Charlotte laughed. “Oh, my, no. She’s as prim and proper as can be. Though she does have a slight limp. It does not keep her from most activities, and it will not keep her from bearing the duke an heir.”

The butler nodded approvingly. The housekeeper, Mrs. Wilson, appeared, wiping her hands on her apron and said, “I hear you’re a friend of the duke’s bride. I’m glad to meet you, my lady.”

Mrs. Wilson began a curtsy, and Charlotte stopped her. “Oh, no, you mustn’t bow to me. I’m plain Charlotte Edgerton, from America.” Charlotte held out her hand to be clasped. “It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Wilson.”

Thus it was that, by the time Denbigh arrived at the duke’s front door, Charlotte and most of the staff of Somersville Manor—except for the underfootman, who was home with the measles, and the cook’s helper, who had gone to take care of her sick mother—were fast friends.

“Good day, milord,” Grimes said as he greeted the Earl of Denbigh with a stoic face. He reached out to take the earl’s hat and gloves, but there were none.

“Traveling light,” the earl explained. “Has Braddock arrived?”

“Not yet,” Grimes said. Then, under his
breath, “But stab me if the fat doesn’t fall in the fire when he gets here.”

Because the servants did not know what to do with them, and there was no other family in the house to entertain them, Charlotte and Denbigh ended up alone together in the drawing room. For a while Charlotte managed to keep herself busy by picking up each item of bric-a-brac and examining it before setting it back down again.

Denbigh sat in a chair before a cold, ash-blackened fireplace, his crossed leg swinging, watching her like a hawk eyeing a tasty morsel it plans for dinner.

“You have already examined that ormolu clock once, Charlotte,” Denbigh said.

“I want to see how it is wound,” Charlotte replied.

“And that figurine has not gotten any uglier,” Denbigh said, when, for the second time, she picked up a blue china shepherd playing his flute. “Come sit down beside me, Charlotte. It is time we had a talk.”

Charlotte eyed him askance. “You did not have to follow me here.”

“I am here to meet Braddock and Olivia,” Denbigh said, as though Charlotte were not the reason he had arrived at the ungodly, not to mention unfashionably early, hour of eight for a lengthy
morning call. Which, as he watched the hands move round on the ormolu clock Charlotte had been handling, was fast turning into an afternoon call, as well.

“Would you let Braddock marry Olivia if he asked you for her hand?” Charlotte asked, settling onto the stool at his feet.

“Yesterday, I would have said no. Today, I will insist upon it.”

“What if Livy does not want to marry him?”

“She has no choice. Her reputation has been compromised. Braddock must make it right. Or answer to me.”

“You mean you will demand satisfaction?” Charlotte said.

“I mean exactly that.”

“There is an easier way to solve this coil.”

“Suppose you enlighten me,” Denbigh suggested.

“Tell Braddock the truth.”

“Tell me what truth?”

Charlotte whirled so fast she nearly fell off the tiny stool and, in fact, Denbigh had to steady her. It was a good thing, she realized, that Denbigh had to hold on to her, because she felt an immediate and violent animosity arc between the two men. Without someone blocking their direct path to each other, there was a distinct possibility they would
simply have attacked like two wolves, going for each other’s throats.

“Get up, Charlotte,” Denbigh said, giving her a push to get her out of his way so he could stand.

She stood, but she did not move six inches from where she was. She kept herself firmly between the two powerful adversaries. She met Olivia’s gaze when she entered the drawing room and saw the other woman recognized the danger the same as she did.

“Here is your sister, Denbigh,” Braddock said, thrusting Olivia in front of him. “You may have her back.”

“She is your affianced wife now, Braddock. Or she will shortly be a grieving widow.”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Charlotte said. “Can’t you see you’re upsetting Livy?”

Both men looked at Olivia, whose head hung down, and whose hands were gripped so tightly before her that her knuckles were white.

“Hold your head up, Livy,” Charlotte said. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. It is these two dunderheads who ought to be hung out to dry.”

“Be still, Charlotte,” Denbigh warned.

“I will not!” Charlotte said. “I am as much involved in this as any of you. I am a victim, as well. Because both of you were wounded by what happened. And Livy and I will be the ones to suffer.

“Tell Braddock the truth, Lion. He deserves to
know. Otherwise, he will be killing you now and regretting it later,” Charlotte said.

“What is she talking about?” Braddock asked.

Denbigh hesitated, made eye contact with a madly gesturing Charlotte, and said, “I challenged your brother to a duel to satisfy my honor, not for the frivolous reason you may have heard.”

“James was a cub. What could he have done to offend you that could not be satisfied some other, less lethal way?” Braddock demanded.

“He seduced …” Denbigh paused, corrected himself, and continued, “He raped the woman who would have been my wife. When she found she was carrying James’s child, he would not marry her. So she killed herself.”

Braddock’s eyes were filled with horror. “James? James could not—He would not—”

“Lady Alice left a note for me, naming the father of her child,” Denbigh said. He lowered his eyes and admitted, “I did not know about the rape when I killed him. It was enough that he had seduced the woman I loved and then abandoned her.”

“What proof have you of such a … a disturbing accusation?” Braddock asked. “Rape is … a heinous crime.”

“You say that,” Denbigh snarled, “And yet you show up with my sister after a night spent in God knows what debauchery!”

The two men surged toward each other, and
only the physical interference of the two women kept them from laying hands on each other.

“Stop it, Lion!” Charlotte cried.

“I was willing!” Olivia said. “Listen to me, Lion. Listen!
I was willing
.”

Olivia’s words apparently penetrated Denbigh’s consciousness, because he froze and stared at her.

Charlotte could see that Olivia spoke the truth. There was a softness about her, a glow that had not been there before her night with Braddock. And Braddock’s hand on her shoulder was gentle and supportive. He had not forced her.

Whether Olivia had known when she gave herself to Braddock what he intended to say to Denbigh the next morning was another matter.

“I need proof,” Braddock said. “I cannot believe what you say about James without proof.”

“There is none,” Denbigh said flatly. “Only a dead woman and a charred note written in her hand. Only she knows if she was telling the truth. I confess I did not challenge the truth of what she wrote. I was too enraged, too inflamed to do other than what I did.

“I can tell you this, if it is any comfort,” Denbigh said. “When I confronted your brother with the truth as he lay dying, he did not deny it.”

“Did he … did he say aught else?” Braddock asked.

Denbigh shook his head. “There was not time.”

Braddock turned to Olivia, took her hands in his and gripped them tightly. To Charlotte’s surprise, Olivia lifted her head and looked Braddock right in the eye.

“Did you listen, Reeve?”

“I listened, Livy. And I understand better what happened. But I do not see how I can forgive your brother.”

“What if it were me, Reeve. And someone had violated me. What would you do to him?”

Charlotte watched, and saw Denbigh watching too, as the duke’s neck hairs hackled. His jaw grew taut, and his arm muscles flexed.

“I would kill him,” Braddock said without hesitation.

Charlotte exchanged a triumphant look with Denbigh. There was proof and more that Braddock loved Olivia. But instead of relief on Denbigh’s face, she saw a stark look for which she could find no explanation.

She took a step closer to him and said, “What is wrong?”

“I am as blind as Braddock,” Denbigh said. “What do you mean?”

He looked down at her, his silvery gray eyes feral as he admitted, “If any man touched you, I would do the same as Braddock. I would kill him.”

Charlotte stared at Lion wide-eyed. It was the closest he had ever come to a declaration of love. Maybe he had to grow a little more accustomed to the fact before he would be able to accept it.

She was having a little trouble accepting it herself. Not the love. She was ready for that. But Denbigh’s willingness to share it with her was exciting to contemplate.

“I cannot change the past,” Denbigh said to Braddock. “God knows I wish I could. For the sake of my sister’s happiness, I am willing to leave it in the past, where it belongs, and go on with life. Can you do the same?” he asked Braddock.

Charlotte watched Olivia closely. Her face looked calm, almost confident. She looked up at Braddock and said, “Reeve, the choice is yours. But if I am carrying your heir—”

Braddock clamped his hand over Olivia’s mouth. “I am asking for your sister’s hand in marriage, Denbigh. What say you?”

“She is yours. May you have a long and fruitful life together.”

The two men reached out to each other for the first time, but it was to clasp hands in peace, rather than level weapons of death.

“Have I any say in this matter?” Olivia asked archly.

“Only if what you have to say is yes,” Braddock said as he turned back to her.

Olivia smiled radiantly up at him and said, “Yes, Reeve. I will be your wife.”

To Charlotte’s amazement, shy Livy stood on tiptoe and kissed the fearsome duke square on the lips.

The fearsome duke did not seem to mind. He smiled, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her back.

Charlotte felt a little awkward around all that sensual celebration, because it was blatantly apparent that she and Denbigh were not joining in the fun.

“Come, Charlotte, let’s take a walk in the rose garden and leave the newly affianced couple alone for a few minutes.” Lion called back over his shoulder, “A few minutes only, Braddock.”

Braddock grinned and said, “If you are going to be such a strict chaperon I will have to make Olivia my wife all the sooner.”

“Use that special license in your pocket,” Denbigh said.

Olivia pursed her lips and put her balled fists on her hips. “Why, you faker!”

Braddock flushed. “I could not make up my mind what I wanted to do with you,” he admitted.

Denbigh could appreciate the feeling. When he turned to say as much to Charlotte, Charlotte was gone.

Damn and blast, could she never stay put for one moment?

He was out the French doors and headed for the rose garden a moment later, since that was where they had talked about going. Besides, it was the perfect place for Charlotte, because it looked pretty and smelled sweet … and had thorns.

She was standing among the red roses, trying to pick one without much success.

“Let me help you with that,” he said.

She turned to him, startled, and cried out when she pricked her finger on one of the thorns.

He took her hand, tenderly kissed the scratch, and felt her shiver. “Is that better?”

“Don’t be nice to me, Lion. I won’t be able to stand it if you’re nice to me.”

“Stand what, Charlotte?”

“Going away.”

“Are you going away?” he asked.

She nodded. “Back to America.”

“When were you planning to make this journey?” he asked, feeling a knot of tension in his gut.

“I thought I would leave as soon as I say good-bye to Olivia and Braddock and your grandmother and grandfather and Percy, and of course Stiles and Theobald and Sally and—”

“Aren’t you forgetting someone, Charlotte?”

“Who?” she asked.

“Me.”

“Oh, no. You see, you’re going with me.”

Denbigh stood stunned for a moment, then roared, “Charlotte!”

“I thought we could go for a visit so you could meet some of my friends,” she cajoled him.

“Charlotte,” he said, gesturing her toward him with his finger. “Come here.”

“You can’t keep me here in England forever, Lion. You’ll have to let me go back to America sometime. It might as well be now, before we have children to bring along. Children tend to get seasick, you know.”

“Charlotte,” Denbigh warned.

“I’ve been as patient as I can be, Lion. But you are moving too slow. You might as well face it. You are never going to be free of me. You’ll be wearing a pair of leg-shackles before Christmas, so you might as well give in graciously and say you will marry me.”

“Charlie,” he said against her lips. “I do.”

“Do what?”

“Intend to marry you, baggage.”

Charlotte threw herself into his arms. “I knew it!” she said. “I told Livy and Sally and Grimes and Theobald—”

“Is there anyone you did not tell?” he asked.

“Only you,” she said. “I decided to let you figure it out for yourself.”

“Thank you for that,” he said with a wry twist of his mouth. He would gladly accept a pair of leg-shackles if Charlotte came along with them.

“There is something you have forgotten, Lion,” Charlotte said as she nuzzled his neck. “Three words.”

“What are they?” he asked.

“Those are not the words,” she said, exasperated.

“Oh,” he said. “You mean, I want you.”

“Lion!”

He smiled at her and took her hands in his. “Will you marry me, Charlotte? I want you to be the mother of my children. I want to spend the rest of my life with you as my wife.”