Three Schemes and a Scandal (10 page)

Penelope ran straight for the Serpentine; James followed her in up to his Hessians until it became clear the damn fox would swim across the river.

The swans were not amused.

They cried and flapped their great wings, crowding toward the shore.

Did he mention the hysterical fits occurring all around the park as this ensued? Today would have been an excellent day to be a park vendor offering smelling salts.

Thoughts aside, James saw Penelope heading toward the middle of lake.

He also, fortuitously, spied a rowboat idling by the shore.

“Charlotte, hurry,” he called. They clambered about the rowboat and he set off, rowing hard and fast and ignoring the burning in his arms and the tightness in his chest.

With a few quick strokes, they were able to catch up to the maddening creature. Charlotte reached in and picked up the fox by the scruff of her neck.

“Naughty fox!” she admonished. The animal did not seem to care in the slightest. In fact, it distinctly appeared to be smiling as if to say, “Wasn’t that a rollicking good time!”

Charlotte hugged the sodden creature close to her, obviously not caring one whit for her dress, which was now damp and clingingly temptingly to her curves, and did nothing to help him catch his breath.

“This is so romantic,” Charlotte said, dreamy eyed and with a seductive smile.

He begged to differ—that was his first response. But then James looked at Char’s happy, smiling face and attempted to see the events through her starry eyes.

A gentleman taking a lady for a scenic stroll through the park and rowing her on a boat across the Serpentine was indeed romantic.

They had enjoyed an adventure, which ended happily.

Yes, life with Charlotte as his bride would never be dull and he did not want to live a tedious life. He wasn’t sure, but she would probably say yes.

One thing was certainly clear: He couldn’t do anything so pedestrian as simply
ask
if she wished to marry him.

No, he would have to create a scene, develop a scheme … Thanks to Penelope, he had an idea …

“Why are you grinning like that?” she asked.

“I am happy, Charlotte. It’s a lovely day. We have had an adventure. Your pet is safe. The sun is shining, the birds are singing …”

“I know that smile. And that wicked gleam in your eye. It’s how I look when I’ve thought up a delicious scheme,” she said, leveling him with a gaze that was a prelude to an interrogation. She had
no
idea what would be in store for her.

Bond Street

“Harriet, remind me: Why are we here?” Charlotte asked, utterly perplexed as to why Harriet urgently needed to select a hair ribbon and why Charlotte’s presence was necessary for the endeavor.

“I am trying new colors to see which suit me. I’m starting with hair ribbons before ordering an entire new wardrobe,” Harriet explained. She selected a wide salmon-colored satin ribbon and held it up to her hair.

“No,” Charlotte said.

“Thank you,” Harriet replied, and she moved to examine other ribbons in a dizzying array of colors and textures.

“I see why you brought me,” Charlotte murmured. “It’s just as well, I need a new ribbon for Penelope.”

“I heard she caused quite the scene. Actually, I heard
James
caused quite the scene.”

“No,” Charlotte said. “Pea green does not suit you.”

“Are you avoiding the question, Charlotte?” Harriet gasped, delighted with her discovery of a Sensitive Topic.

“Should I get another blue silk ribbon for Penelope?” Charlotte mused. “Or perhaps this forest green velvet?”

“You fancy him,” Harriet declared, gleefully. This had never happened before.

“I—” The strangest thing happened: Charlotte opened her mouth and found no words waiting. She must be ill.

“And you don’t deny it!” Harriet now clapped her hands together in delight.

“I fail to see why this is amusing,” she muttered. My God, there was something wrong with her. Speechlessness. Sense of humor failure. She was probably dying.

“I fail to see why
you do not
see that this is amusing,” Harriet exclaimed loudly, thus involving the entire ribbon shop in Charlotte’s business. “You fancy a gentleman! Finally!”

“Well he’s the only one with a modicum of intelligence,” Charlotte replied, which was as close as she could get to revealing the truth, which was that YES SHE FANCIED HIM.

“And he’s
so
handsome,” Harriet said dreamily, idly stroking her hands along a blue satin ribbon that reminded Charlotte of the exact shade of James’s eyes.

“Tolerable, I suppose,” Charlotte said with an indifferent shrug, even though she had barely slept since their afternoon in the folly and their evening in the alcove. Instead, she entertained the most wicked thoughts that definitely turned upon his breathtaking handsomeness.

His blue eyes, like the sky after a storm. His mouth, so sensual and soft against her own. His broad, muscled chest that put most men to shame. That sleek scar gracing his left cheek demonstrating either his idiocy or his trust in her.

Harriet peered at her closely. She obviously had a question to ask. Charlotte developed a sudden fascination with a puce grosgrain ribbon.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“Do you think he fancies you back?” Harriet asked. Curses.
She said it.

“I don’t know,” Charlotte said darkly. Of course there was evidence to support that James did, indeed, fancy her—she certainly didn’t nearly ravish herself in that alcove—there was also the regrettable fact that their nearly every interaction was a scheme engineered by herself.

There was nothing she loved more than being in control. Which is why it was deuced strange she longed for James to sweep her off her feet.

The Duke’s Study

“You want to marry Charlotte,” the Duke of Brandon repeated flatly. For the third time.

“Yes,” James said confidently. For the third time.

“You want to marry my sister, Charlotte, who faints at will, never met a wild animal she didn’t want to keep as a pet and is far too clever for her own good.”

“Yes, the very one,” James said. In his head he corrected the duke’s description: who possessed many talents, who had a large, loving heart, who was far more clever than any other woman. Charlotte, whom he adored and with whom he would never be bored.

“Brave man,” the duke muttered. He nodded approvingly when he saw James’s expression darken.

“She and I suit,” James said simply. He hadn’t intended to marry. He hadn’t intended to develop feelings for a woman, and he certainly hadn’t planned on falling in love. But then Charlotte happened.

Just like that day years ago, when he had no intention of befriending the impish
girl
neighbor. But she promised the wildest adventures that were too damn fun to resist.

The adventures she hinted at now were far more wicked, but just as wild, just as exhilarating.

He wanted Charlotte to keep happening to him.

He didn’t want her to be with any other man because she wouldn’t be happy with any other man. Charlotte’s happiness was paramount.

“We are both aware that my permission is irrelevant in this matter. You must ask the lady herself. For what it’s worth, I do approve,” the duke said.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” James said and he allowed a small exhalation of relief. The blessing of Charlotte’s family mattered.

“Shall we call her in and you can ask her yourself?” Brandon offered, as he poured two glasses of brandy.

“Actually, I have arranged for her to be elsewhere today. She is currently investigating hair ribbons with Miss Harriet Dawkins,” James replied.

The duke lifted his eyebrow, intrigued. James explained.

“Were I to call upon you with Charlotte at home, it would not escape her notice. And the fact of the matter is that, given the lady in question, I cannot simply propose. I must also do something dramatic. I must also give Charlotte a taste of her own medicine.”

“She will appreciate that,” the duke said with a smile, handing James a glass of brandy.

“I have a scheme in mind,” James said. “I just need your help …”

The duchess was called in. A few servants were consulted and missives dispatched. By the time Charlotte returned home the scheme was in progress.

Four days later

For the third time, Charlotte crossed the room to shut her bedchamber door. Something had gone wrong with the knob or the lock or what-have-you and it popped open at the most inconvenient times, such as when two ladies were discussing a particular gentleman.

“Harriet, I’m sure James was about to say something momentous,” Charlotte said broodingly to her friend. As per usual, they were lolling about with periodicals, a pot of tea and a plate of cakes, scones and biscuits. Outside, rain lashed at the windows. The weather suited her mood.

“What do you think he was about to say?” Harriet asked as she idly flipped through an issue of
La Belle Assemblée.

“I don’t know,” Charlotte said darkly. She hated not knowing things. “There are really only three momentous things a man would say to a woman.”

“A marriage proposal. A confession of love. What’s the third?” Harriet asked.

“That he’s leaving the country,” Charlotte explained. She hoped it wasn’t true. She hoped it
was
true and that he would whisk her along with him and together they would travel the world and have all sorts of romantic adventures.

“Leaving the country? Do you really think so?” Harriet asked, her skepticism obvious.

“Or he might have a horrid, terminal illness,” Charlotte said darkly. That was the other possibility and she
feared life would not be worth living without James
did not care for it.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. He seems to be the picture of health and vitality,” Harriet remarked. “He’s so strong, and golden.”

Both ladies fell silent pondering James’s sun-browned skin and the golden strands of his hair. Charlotte indulged in memories of the warmth of his skin, the taste of his lips.

The door popped open again. Charlotte sighed, crossed the room and shut it once more.

“Perhaps he was about to confess to committing a horrendous crime and he needs my

assistance in convincing a jury of his innocence,” Charlotte said dramatically.

“You would be good at that,” Harriet said diplomatically. Charlotte fantasized about a world in which she could be a defender of justice and make grand speeches.
Or
she could disguise herself as a man and procure a legal degree, obtain a position … she pictured herself in gentleman’s dress, striding across the courtroom and addressing a jury and interrogating witnesses while James’s fate hung in the balance.

“What do you think he did? Murder? Highway robbery?” Charlotte wondered, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She hoped it was highway robbery. She could just see him in a black mask, atop a black stallion, calling out
Stand and deliver
to carriages full of passengers all at his mercy, in the dead of a moonless night …

“Charlotte!”

“What?”

“He didn’t commit a crime,” Harriet said, exasperated.

“How do you know that?” Charlotte asked, eyes narrowed, her suspicions raised.

“One just assumes the best in others … one would think something else a more plausible possibility,” Harriet said, stammering slightly. A blush crept into her cheeks.

“One would think one’s friend knows something,” Charlotte said slowly, her focused gaze never wavering. Harriet smoothed her skirts.

“One would think it was silly to think one’s friend knows anything of the heart and mind of a gentleman with whom she is not acquainted,” Harriet replied.

“The fact remains that he was certainly about to say something of great importance the other day in the park. It goes without saying that I should like to know. It also goes without saying I must engineer a meeting thus providing him opportunity.”

“Why don’t you write him a letter?” Harriet suggested. Even though just last week she had said Charlotte should never write another letter again, to anyone, ever.

“Dear James, I thought you might have been about to say something of tremendous importance—perhaps confessing your love for me, or confessing to a horrific crime. Do let me know. Curiously yours, Charlotte.”

“It isn’t every day one receives a letter like that,” Harriet said. Wasn’t that the truth! The post would be so much more interesting if one did. But Charlotte would not send him a letter. She wanted to see his face, with his blue eyes and that slanting scar. She wanted to hear his voice say whatever it was he’d been about to say. She wanted to feel his caress, his lips, his …

“I should like to see him. Alone.”

“Charlotte …” Harriet warned. “You had quite a narrow escape at the Hastings garden party. And an even narrower escape at the Capulet ball. Do you not think your luck might run out?”

“I have plans. Not luck,” Charlotte replied. She knew just the way in which to secure his undivided attention.

“Are you sure? Do you really want to risk it?” Harriet questioned nervously. Again.

“Why wouldn’t I want to take the risk, Harriet Dawkins?”

“No reason …” her friend said meekly.

“Never mind that. I have the perfect plan,” Charlotte announced.

The Foyer

A few days later

The duke and duchess of Hamilton and Brandon were hosting a ball in their home to celebrate … well, Charlotte wasn’t quite clear on the occasion for the event, and she didn’t quite care. James had been invited.

More important, James had replied that
yes
he would attend. She knew this because she had personally intercepted and perused every reply that had made it into Hamilton House.