Scandalous Liaisons (24 page)

“Have you considered any other possibilities?” interjected the lilting voice Charlotte had come to love.

“No,” she admitted. “But I suppose I shall have to, in short order.”

“Well, in the meantime, enjoy the earl.” The soft rustle of muslin betrayed movement. “You should wear your red silk to dinner. You’re breathtaking in it. He’ll never be able to resist you.”

“He’s not trying to resist me,” she said dryly. She’d never cared for libidinous pleasure-seekers like Montrose, though she’d tolerated them when necessary. Hugh, however, wasn’t at all like his appearance led one to believe. In fact, he seemed almost lonely. Much like she was.

“Ah, well, even better.”

Charlotte laughed. “I’m certain it’s not proper to discuss this sort of thing with you.”

“Who cares about proper? We’ve never done anything properly.”

 

Hugh glanced again at the mirror, adjusting his cravat for the hundredth time, before resuming his pacing.
What the devil was taking Charlotte so blasted long?

He’d give her a few moments more, then he’d track her down. Who knew what had happened to her in this museum of oddities? Why, he shuddered just thinking about it! It was abominable for such a gorgeous creature to be rusticating out here, in the wilds of Derbyshire. It was a travesty he intended to rectify as soon as the cursed weather cooperated.

When the long-awaited knock finally came, he threw open the portal with such haste that Charlotte stumbled backward in surprise. He was equally astonished.

Dressed in a crimson silk gown of stunning simplicity, she stole his breath and his wits. With off-the-shoulder sleeves, low-cut bodice, and high waist, the dress featured no adornments of any kind. Charlotte herself wore no jewelry or gloves, and her coppery hair was piled atop her head in riotous curls. Her skin was pale as moonlight, and the scent of her, fresh and flowery, was an arousing counterpoint to the seductive look of her.

It took all of the self-control Hugh possessed to keep from grabbing her and ravishing her upon his bed. Charlotte appealed to him on so many levels, he found it hard to collect them all.

He watched, mesmerized, as her mouth curved in a knowing smile. She was thoroughly aware of the effect the sight of her would have on any man.

“Shall we go to supper?” she asked.

“Must we?”

Her green eyes glowed with warm amusement. “I’m rather starved myself.”

So was Hugh, but not for food. However, the thought of her company while eating his meal was somewhat pacifying. He stepped out of his room and offered his arm. The light touch of her bare fingers burned through his coat and shirt to his skin below, making him ache for her. Charlotte was tiny, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder, and from his high vantage, Hugh had an excellent view of the ripe swell of her breasts.

He looked away, staring resolutely down the gallery. Unlike the demimondaines with whom he usually associated, it felt wrong to ogle Charlotte as if she were worth nothing more than a good tumble. She was intelligent and kind, as evidenced by her steadfastness in the face of today’s events. Fact was, he rather liked her, what little he knew of her, and since he had a few days to fill, he determined to discover as much about her as he could in that time.

As they moved from one hallway to another and prepared to descend the main staircase, Hugh felt as if he were moving through time. The brightly lit and beautifully furnished part of the house faded into the dust-covered and rotting section as easily as they turned the corner.

“It’s less of a burden on the servants to maintain only the areas we use regularly,” Charlotte explained before he could ask.

Thinking of the motley crew he’d met so far, he had to agree.

Hugh was relieved to see that the dining room was clean and kept in usable condition, but he was slightly disappointed to see only two place settings on the long mahogany table.

“Is Her Grace not joining us for dinner?” Even as he asked, he wondered why a paid companion would be allowed to dress so beautifully and eat dinner with him instead of with her employer. But he refused to ask. No sane man would question such good fortune.

“She’s become accustomed to eating her meals alone.”

“Odd, that,” he murmured as he held a chair for her. He’d made a habit of surrounding himself with large, boisterous groups of people, rarely spending a moment without company of some sort. Eating alone sounded . . . lonely.

Taking his seat, Hugh settled in to enjoy his meal when a familiar noise drew his attention to the swinging door that led to the kitchen. He shook his head and sighed.

Sure enough, the portal swung open and the young, jittery maid entered. The soup tureen in her hands wobbled alarmingly, and the ladle protruding from it rattled so loudly, nothing else could be heard. Directly on her heels and bearing a pitcher came Tom, the lazy-eyed boy who’d assisted Hugh earlier.

The two servants almost collided, compliments of the madly swinging door. Together they performed an odd sort of spinning dance, stumbling forward and back and around, as they attempted to keep their liquids from spilling out everywhere.

For a moment, Hugh watched the antics in dumbfounded fascination, and then, muttering an oath, he pushed to his feet and rescued the maid from the soup (or the soup from the maid, depending on how one looked at it).

“’Tis a wonder you don’t starve,” he muttered, and Charlotte laughed.

“They would have been fine, if you’d have given them a moment.”

Hugh shot her a disbelieving glance.

“Truly,” she insisted.

“Are you the only normal individual on the premises?” he rejoined as he took his seat.

The lovely full mouth he found endlessly erotic curved in a wide grin. “That depends on what you consider normal. Some would say that a young, unmarried woman who chooses to live with a mad duchess is far from normal.” She glanced at the shaking woman at the end of the table. “You may serve now, Katie.”

The pretty brunette flashed a tentative smile and moved to fill their bowls with soup. Hugh watched as, despite her affliction, she managed the task without spilling a drop onto the pristine tablecloth.

The meal consisted of a variety of delectable dishes, including curried fowl and braised ham, and Charlotte was refreshing and engaging. She made him laugh with her dry wit and was attentive enough to keep his glass filled with wine. Hugh attempted to broach the subject of the duchess, but like a consummate politician, she directed the conversation to lighter topics, such as the spring dance in the village and Mr. Edgewood’s skinny, unappetizing pig. Lost in the pleasure of her company, Hugh was content to allow her evasiveness. For the moment.

After dinner they retired to the upstairs library, and Hugh took the opportunity to study her in greater depth. It was easy to discern that she was not merely a paid companion. There was a practiced grace to her movements and a studious understanding of the customs enjoyed by men of privilege. She brought him a cigar, which she lit with expertise. Moving to the sideboard, Charlotte poured a large ration of brandy, which she warmed over a candle flame before bringing it to him. Her hips swayed softly as she approached, her shoulders held back to better display her lovely breasts. The invitation in her eyes was apparent.

“You’re attempting to seduce me,” he murmured with a smile, extremely pleased. It was not unusual for women to pursue him, but he was especially enjoying it this evening. Setting his cigar aside, Hugh caught her wrist when she held out the glass and tugged her into his lap. “Would you like me to take you away from this place?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he acknowledged what an excellent idea it was. Charlotte was far too lovely to be hidden away, and he could easily see himself keeping her for a while.

She didn’t reply. Instead, she turned her face and pressed those lush lips to his. Plump and flavored of wine, her kiss was intoxicating. He was held motionless, achingly touched and aroused by the simple gesture. He, a man consummate in the carnal arts, was arrested by a mere kiss. It was Charlotte who took control of the moment, Charlotte whose tongue licked along his lips and teased for entry. Hugh could only groan and pull her closer.

“Montrose,” she whispered, her forehead pressed to his.

“Hugh.”

“Hugh . . .” She said his name on a sigh, a warm breath that mingled with his before he breathed in and made it his own. “I am a woman of the world. I don’t need to be rescued.”

Holding her was both pleasure and torment. His cock was hard and swollen against her luscious derriere, aching to fill her. “What do you want, then, Charlotte?” he asked hoarsely. “I’ll give you anything you desire.”

Her hand came up and entwined in his hair, kneading his scalp, until his eyes closed helplessly, awash in pleasure. The air around them heated, becoming heavy with a desire so intense, it almost frightened him.

The sudden crash in the hall startled them both.

“Damnation,” he cursed, setting her from his lap before rising to his feet and striding to the door. Throwing it open, he stuck his head out and found Katie down the hall with a broken pitcher at her feet. Noting the blood that pooled in her palm, he hurried to her side, pulling out his handkerchief as he went.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, dabbing at the cut. “It must hurt terribly.”

“’Tis nothing. Please . . .”

It was the first time Hugh had heard her speak, and her soft, lyrical voice drew his gaze upward. He found her crying.

Flustered by her tears, he sought to soothe her. “Charlotte will have you good as new in a moment.”

“It’s not that,” she sobbed. “I broke the pitcher.”

“That old thing?” he dismissed gruffly. “I shall purchase a dozen more for you when this storm has abated. Then you can break as many as you like.”

Katie lifted her face and gave him a grateful, wavering smile. Hugh coughed in embarrassment and looked away, relieved when Charlotte knelt beside them and took the girl’s hand. Straightening, he backed up a step.

Charlotte examined the wound. “We must go to the kitchen to tend this.” She offered him a silent apology with her eyes. “You can retire. I’ll manage.”

“I’d like to help.”

“Truly, there’s nothing you can do but watch. And it’s been a long day. I shall see you tomorrow.”

Hugh hesitated a moment before nodding his acquiesce. Charlotte was obviously accustomed to handling her affairs alone, and the dismissal was obvious. He would not be seeing her again tonight.

He didn’t understand why he wished to help her carry this burden, and any others she might have. He avoided responsibility whenever possible, and Charlotte was made of stern stuff, he knew. Yet there it was, the unmistakable desire to take care of her.

After the two women disappeared around the corner, Hugh entered his suite and locked the door. No longer distracted by his attraction to Charlotte, his thoughts returned to where he was and the situation he was in.

Somewhere on this floor, the mad duchess waited.

He’d never been a nervous sort. In fact, he was known for his steely concentration, which had stood him in good stead through two duels and had given him a reputation as a man with whom to be reckoned. Because of his even temperament, Hugh found the whole mystery of the decrepit mansion and the legend of the duchess rather thrilling. His life had become a tedious cycle of business meetings, women whose names he couldn’t remember, and fair-weather friends. He was bored of it all, which was the main reason he’d decided at the last moment to visit Julienne.

As he undressed, he racked his memory trying to recall what he could about the old duke and his hasty marriage. Glenmoore had been an Eccentric, an Original, always haring off on worldly adventures at which everyone else had shaken their heads. Hugh knew Glenmoore’s son had always considered his father to be something of an embarrassment.

Now Hugh wished he’d paid greater attention to the talk. When his sister had married Lucien Remington, he’d become adept at avoiding gossip of any nature. For future reference, he’d have to rethink his reticence. Perhaps there was something useful to be gleaned from the chatter after all.

Charlotte was an enigma he
would
unravel. A lady’s companion was expected to have a sterling reputation, and yet it was fairly obvious by the way she dressed and her skilled seduction that Charlotte was a bit tarnished.

Every one of the servants had some affliction or another. It was highly possible that the tempting redhead’s reputation was hers.

He’d had nothing but wine since the pot of tea earlier. Shooting a wary glance at the fresh pitcher left by Katie, Hugh sighed in resignation and poured a small ration. There was no help for it. He couldn’t drink liquor the entire duration of the storm. With everything that was happening around him, he was better off sober.

He lifted the glass and drained its contents. Then he crawled into the massive bed and promptly fell asleep.

 

Hugh stiffened but made no other movement. All of his senses alert, he listened carefully for the sound that woke him.

There it was again—
the soft sound of material brushing against itself.

Someone else was in the room with him.

Throwing back the covers, he leapt from the bed, startling the dark form that stood at the foot of it. He lunged forward, arms out to capture his Peeping Tom.

And ended up facedown on the rug.

Startled, knowing he should have caught the intruder, Hugh jumped to his feet and spun about, expecting to catch
something
and finding only air. Running to the nightstand, he lit the taper, then looked around, finding no one and nothing amiss.

He cursed as he pulled on his discarded trousers. A man could take only so much.