Seduced At Sunset (15 page)

Charlotte smiled. “I will remember that. Thank you.”

She watched him dip one oar into the water to use as a
rudder, while he stroked with the other to turn them around.

“I want to tell you something,” she said, feeling rather
reckless suddenly with the urge to open up. “There is a reason why I am so
passionate about my mother’s romantic life. I am not just bored and seeking
amusement. I want her to be happy, of course, but I want these two particular
people to be together because...”

She hesitated, for this was an intimate family secret. She
wasn’t sure why she wanted to reveal it, or why she felt Drake should know.
Would he even care? She wasn’t certain, but everything in her heart and soul
screamed at her to reveal this to him.

“I want them to be together because they are my true
parents.”

Drake’s eyes lifted, and he raised the oars out of the
water so that they floated to a stop again. “I beg your pardon?”

“The gentleman I am attempting to pair up with my mother
is my real father. So obviously, he was more than her first love. He was also
her lover for a brief time while she was married... when things were unbearable
for her at the palace.”

“How exactly were they unbearable?”

Charlotte explained how the duke was unfaithful, abusive,
and cruel in the early years of their marriage, probably because he had
realized his wife’s heart secretly belonged to another. She also explained how
her mother had almost run off and abandoned her role as Duchess of Pembroke.

“She changed her mind at the last minute,” Charlotte told
him, “for she knew the duke would never let her see her sons again if she left
him.”

“Your brothers.”

“Yes. Devon, Vincent and Blake. Garrett is my twin and we
are both illegitimate. But no one knows it, so I must ask you not to betray my
confidence.”

He laid a hand over his heart. “You have my word of
honor.”

“I hope that helps you to understand why I was upset over
what happened at the ball. It’s more complicated than I initially let on.”

“I see.” He lowered the oars back into the water, leaned
forward, and gave a firm stroke to pick up some speed. “Was the duke a good
father to you?”

She shrugged. “He was always kind to me, but I suspect
that was because I was the only girl. He was harder on Garrett, because he knew
we weren’t his, and there was the issue of the succession. If anything had
happened to the three older ones, Garrett could have inherited the title. But
our father preferred to keep my mother’s infidelity a secret, because he felt
it reflected poorly on him as a husband.”

“I am sorry to hear all of that.”

“It wasn’t so bad in the end. After mother came home to
him, he realized how he had driven her away, and he turned over a new leaf. He
spent less time in London, more time in the country with her. I believe they
grew to love each other. But that is all in the past now. He passed away two
years ago.”

“My condolences.”

Charlotte leaned over the side to drag a finger through
the water as they skimmed along its clear surface.

“Since we are sharing secrets,” Drake said, “I have one,
too.”

She pulled her hand from the water, shook off the
droplets, and sat forward. “What is it?”

He glanced over his shoulder as he rowed smoothly back
toward the jetty. “The reason I left England twelve years ago was to escape
something I did.”

She was forced to wait an unbearable number of seconds
before he continued.

Then at last he said, “I punched a man so hard that I
killed him instantly. And it didn’t happen in the ring.”

Chapter Twelve

Charlotte gripped the sides of the boat and fought to
keep the evidence of her shock to a minimum. Drake—her perfect fantasy
lover—had killed a man?

Swallowing uneasily, she said, “There was a mystery
surrounding your disappearance when you left. Was it because of this? Did
anyone know what happened?”

“Very few people. One close friend whom I trusted with my
life—the man who owns this property. He was my trainer. My mother knew as
well, and Mrs. March, the housekeeper.”

“Why did you leave?” Charlotte asked. “Was there a warrant
out for your arrest?”

Was it murder?
She was curious,
but couldn’t bring herself to ask such a question.

“They questioned me at the time,” he explained, “and it
was deemed an accidental death. No charges were laid. I believe my connections
as nephew to Earl Lidstone played a part in that, though I certainly didn’t try
to use them. My mother did, however, which buried the scandal, but also
deepened the rift between us, because I didn’t want her help. I specifically
asked her to stay out of it.”

“You felt you should have paid a price for what you did?”
Charlotte asked, “even though it was deemed accidental?”

“The definition of accidental can be murky sometimes.”

Charlotte tilted her head to the side. She studied his
expression in the early morning light and wanted very much to understand him
better. “What exactly did happen?”

He continued to row steadily to recover their position,
while every muscle strained with the long strokes. “I was drunk one night after
a prize fight, and had pockets full of coin to spend. I was mixing with a seedy
bunch back then and making my way through Whitechapel when I heard a man and a
woman shouting at each other.

“I looked up at a veranda on a second floor where the man
was shoving the woman around. She had a baby in her arms. I climbed up on a
barrel and somehow found myself on the landing. There were two smaller children
inside the flat, hiding under a table, trembling and looking terrified. The
woman had obviously taken a few beatings already. Other than that, I don’t
remember much. The details are foggy, but I do recall how I loathed that man
for not cherishing what he had—a wife and children—while I had lost
mine.

“He may have swung a punch at me. I don’t know. So I
cannot say whether it was self-defence or not. All I know is that I hit him and
killed him, right there in front of his children. Then his wife nearly
scratched my eyes out. ‘He may have been a brute,’ she said to me, ‘but he
brought home a good wage from the dockyards.’ I gave her all the money I had in
my pockets that night, then gave her more afterwards when no charges were laid.
I still send her money to this day, all the way from America. And I will
continue to do so.”

“But clearly it was accidental,” Charlotte said. “You were
only trying to help.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. All I know is that when I heard the
baby cry in the mother’s arms, all I could think of was Jennie and how it
wasn’t fair. It was pure rage that night. But it forced me, from that day on,
to learn to take my rage out on a bag of sand, instead of other men.”

“Except for the day you rescued my purse from that thief.”

“He’s lucky to be alive,” Drake said. “It was a good
reminder.”

“Of what?”

“That I have no control when my blood boils.”

Charlotte squinted as she gazed across the water. “I am
sorry that happened,” she said with compassion, “but I don’t see why it should
keep you from mixing in Society. It was a long time ago and from the sound of
it, it was an accident. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Drake, and as you
said, the scandal was buried. No one knows about it.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, “but I have no interest in
stuffy drawing rooms and the idle lifestyles of the English aristocracy. I’ve
been in America too long. This is no longer my world, and I have no interest in
being dragged back into it.”

“Then you must do what you feel is right,” she said.
“Follow your heart.”

His eyes narrowed with resolve as he began to row toward
the shore. “Follow my heart? That sounds far too romantic for an ex-prize
fighter like me.”

“I don’t think so,” she replied, watching the riverbank
grow nearer. “Where are you taking us? The jetty is still half a mile away.”

“I don’t want to go back yet,” he said, looking her over
with heated appreciation. “For the moment, I want to heed your advice, and follow
my heart.”

The hull of the boat scraped along the gravel riverbed and
gently bumped the grassy bank. It was an isolated location beneath a giant
weeping willow that gracefully dipped its branches into the water. Charlotte
knew exactly what he had in mind as soon as he lifted the oars into the boat
and leaped onto the bank.

He held out his hand. “Care to take a walk through the
woods with me?”

She made her way to the bow and, with his help, climbed
out. “How deep do you intend to take me?”

“Deep enough to continue this conversation in private.”

“As if the river were not private enough?” she replied
with a playful note of sarcasm as she followed him into the greenery.

They made love slowly and tenderly that morning, hidden
away beneath the shelter of another large willow tree not far from where they’d
left the boat. For Charlotte, it felt less like a sexual fantasy for the
purpose of physical gratification, and more like an act of love, though she did
not allow herself to believe that too wholeheartedly. Just because something
was tender and romantic did not mean it was more than what it was—a
temporary summer romance that would end before the autumn breezes began to
blow.

In the coach, during the brief journey back to Pembroke
House, she sat with her head on Drake’s shoulder while he held her snugly in
his arms. They traveled in a companionable silence that filled her with a sense
of well-being and contentment.

“I understand,” she said, “why you do not wish to join
Society here in London and I would not dream of pushing you into it. But would
you consider coming to Pembroke Palace for a few days to enjoy the solitude
there? I must warn you, of course, that it will not be
completely
quiet. I have a large family and there are many children about. There is a
great deal of lively conversation at dinner, but we are an intimate group and
very tightly knit. You might enjoy yourself. Do you like to fish?”

“I do,” he replied, stroking a finger across her shoulder.

She lifted her face to look up at him. “Then why not come?
You might enjoy it. There is laughter and entertainment, yet no gossip ever
leaves the palace. The Sinclairs are a loyal bunch, and if I bring you as my
guest, you will find yourself most welcome.”

“I don’t know,” he said with a frown. “I didn’t come home
to become involved with people.”

Pleased that he used the word
home
,
she sat back and laid a hand on his cheek. “Whether you will admit it or not,
you have already become involved with
me
, Drake, so
unless you want to change your mind and quit this affair, why not simply make
the most of it? Come to Pembroke and fish and row on our lake. Come riding with
me in the afternoons, and then you can have me to your heart’s content at
night.”

“
Have
you? That sounds rather
wicked, Lady Charlotte. Won’t your brother, the duke, have something to say
about that?”

“He won’t know, for I will introduce you to one of the
great secrets of Pembroke Palace, and I am not referring to the scandals, past
or present. I am referring to secret passageways. A number of rooms are
connected with false walls and hidden doorways. If you are very good, I will
show you the subterranean passages beneath the chapel as well, which are said
to be haunted. Then I will tell you about the Pembroke Palace curse, which
forced all four of my brothers to marry hastily over a decade ago, in order to
save their inheritances.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“It is. Will you come? I promise it will be very different
from London.”

He considered it for a long moment. “What will your
brothers think of me?”

“Do you play billiards?” she asked.

“It has been a while, but yes.”

“Then you will fit right in. Please come.”

It was at that moment they drove into Mayfair and pulled
to a stop in front of Pembroke House. He appeared reluctant to let her go.

“All right,” he said. “I will.”

Feeling blissfully happy, Charlotte kissed him on the
cheek and quickly slipped out of the coach before he had a chance to change his
mind.

Chapter Thirteen

An unexpected sense of inevitability washed over Adelaide
as she rose from her bed and took a seat at her desk. She had been tossing and
turning for the past hour, but knew that she must do something to ease her
mind. She picked up her pen and dipped it into the ink...

Dear William,

It has been nearly a week since we last spoke at the Halloway
Ball. I want to thank you again for the delightful dance, and for the generous
loan of your coat on the balcony.