The Duchess Diaries: The Bridal Pleasures Series (17 page)

He nodded. “Yes, a five-year-old girl.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice dropping in distress. “Why is she not here with you in London? Where have you put her? It is one thing to keep a mistress
in secret, but your own flesh and blood? Has someone threatened to kill her?”

“She’s a bit of a handful,” he admitted. “She never holds still and…well, you would probably be horrified the first time you saw her climb a tree.”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“And spit. She likes to spit on unsuspecting people as they pass.”

“She sounds unsupervised.” And rather happy, Charlotte thought, recalling her own youth. She had never complained when her brothers engaged her in their adventures, or equipped her with a bow and arrow to play Robin Hood. But then, the four of them had been blessed with two doting parents and the gift of one another’s company.

Gideon glanced down at her. For the first time since Charlotte had known him he seemed unsure of himself. “I wondered whether we could wait a few more days for her to arrive before the wedding.”

She melted. “Oh, Gideon, I’ve been afraid this whole time that you would yearn for that other rude female whose name shall not be mentioned. I had no idea that you missed your daughter.”

“I would like you to think of her as our daughter.”

Her throat tightened. “I do love girls.”

“I warn you that she’s a little outspoken for her age.”

“You should meet some of the girls who have gone through the academy. Think of Harriet. I don’t mean to boast, but I have trained a formidable armada of young ladies.”

“From my perspective you also have a talent for bringing gentlemen in line.”

“That remains to be seen. There are temptations everywhere you turn.”

“For you or for me?”

“I meant you, of course.”

“Isn’t Phillip a temptation?”

“Not in the least.”

“Come here a moment,” he said, his dark eyes kindling. “Slip behind the tree where we can’t be seen.”

“What is her name, Gideon?”

“It’s Sarah,” he replied, and drew her slowly toward him.

“Sarah.” She sighed, not resisting as he dipped his head to cover her mouth with his. “She must be lonely.”

“Not for long,” he murmured against her lips.

“Yes. I so want to meet her. Oh, Gideon, I’m quite annoyed with you.”

“Everyone is,” he said idly.

“You don’t seem to care.”

“What can I do?”

“Accept some responsibility as a father, I suppose.”

“Yes,” he said, taking her criticism on the chin. “But the fact is that her grandmother made me promise before
her
death that I would not expose the child to the life I lead in London. She said I had to either change my ways or place Sarah in the custody of responsible guardians.”

“Well, I can understand that,” she said. “I might have felt the same way.”

He leaned back against the tree, staring up through the branches in a short, brooding silence. “I thought it was better to place her in the care of trustworthy servants and let her live in the country atmosphere that she has always known.”

Charlotte frowned. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“I don’t recall,” he said. “Nine or ten months ago, I think. I spent last Christmas with her. The entire day. We played puppets and gorged ourselves on pudding.”

“That is ages ago.” Charlotte shook her head in chagrin. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

“A good husband and a better father, I expect. Don’t count on it, though. I have trained myself to live for pleasure, as you have trained others to live in the polite world. I’ve no intention of being improved.”

J
ane and Chloe strolled off together toward the path that Gideon and Charlotte had taken. “Where have they gone?” Jane asked.

Chloe shrugged, not at all concerned. “Maybe he’s taking her to his carriage. I know another girl who was banished to the country for kissing a man in the park.”

“And I know who she was,” Jane said.

“But what was his name?”

Chloe fought back a smile. “I don’t remember.”

Jane shook her head. “Do you think that he will— No, not in the park, where anyone could interrupt. Charlotte would never allow it.”

“Did you see the way she was looking at him?” Chloe asked. “Her face was radiant. She’s in love, and nothing we could say would make a bit of difference.”

“Yes.” Jane sighed in resignation. “But Charlotte is not an expert at the games he plays so well. His would-be mistress didn’t look happy about the engagement.”

Chloe’s eyes clouded over. “Speaking of…”

They fell silent as Gabrielle Spencer flounced their way, an older gentleman doing his best to keep up with her pace. “Don’t trip on a wet patch of grass and sprain your back, Gabrielle!” Chloe called after her. “It would be a shame to see you lying about for a good reason.”

Gabrielle’s mouth dropped. “If it isn’t the lady who had to keep a man in her closet to force a wedding proposal from him.”

“You’ll make a fool out of yourself if you pursue Gideon after he’s married,” Jane said crisply.

“Maybe he’ll pursue me,” Gabrielle said with a careless shrug. “He knows where to find me.”

“So do I,” said Chloe.

Gabrielle tossed back her hair. “He needs an heir, and once that bun is in the oven, he’ll be done with his duty.”

“I doubt it,” Jane said, her voice clipped.

“I’ve known him longer than you,” Gabrielle retorted. “He isn’t a man who deprives himself of pleasure.”

Chloe smiled. “The fault with that line of thinking is that the pleasure you give can be bought on any street corner.”

“No.” Gabrielle smiled back at her. “He has expensive tastes. The schoolmistress is in over her head.”

“And so is he,” Jane said, giving Gabrielle her shoulder. “He hasn’t looked at you once all afternoon. In fact, I doubt he’d notice if you walked into the lake.”

Early that evening, as Charlotte was mulling over Gideon’s confession, her brothers paid her a call. Ogden, the academy’s butler, deigned to smile as he ushered the two rogues into the drawing room.

Jack took one look at Charlotte’s face and the handkerchief in her lap and sighed.

“I thought you were happy about this engagement—even if from what I gather it did not come about in a typical manner. Lord above, Charlotte, how did you land in this place?”

“What are you weeping about?” Caleb said, dropping down on the couch beside her. “Aren’t you supposed to save that for the wedding?”

Jack settled down on the other side of the couch. “You could still marry Phil—”

“No,” she said forcefully. “I couldn’t.”

“He claims that he’s turned over a new leaf,” Caleb said.

“I’d rather turn over a stone and marry what hides beneath than him,” she said.

Jack coughed. “Didn’t Wynfield refer to Phillip as a grub in the theater?”

She caught them exchanging glances over her head.

Caleb let a few moments elapse before asking, “Did Wynfield do something to make you cry?”

She didn’t want to break Gideon’s confidence by explaining that she would soon become a mother to an outspoken girl who spit at people and had been left to her own devices. Her heart clenched at the thought of the young girl being brought up without any parents. Her brothers wouldn’t understand that Charlotte hadn’t shed tears for herself but for Gideon and Sarah and the young woman who had been taken from them too soon. No one could take a mother’s place. Was it any wonder that the child misbehaved?

She sat forward in annoyance. “Stop crowding me.”

“I suppose we should prepare ourselves,” Caleb said.

“For what?” she whispered.

“Everything started with a diary that may never be found. If it isn’t we will have to bear up and endure.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she muttered.

“The deed is done,” Jack said unhelpfully. “Our house has endured the slings and arrows of outrageous scandal since the first Boscastle was born. No doubt we shall cause, and live through, a multitude more.”

“That’s the longest speech I’ve heard from you since…forever.”

He gave her a taut smile. “Then let it be the last, at least regarding your guilt. You are a lady. Any scandal you’re anticipating will not come to fruition. You couldn’t have written anything in your diary that would cause you more embarrassment than we’ve brought on ourselves.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” she whispered.

Jack removed a clean linen handkerchief from his long jacket and offered it as a replacement. “Charlotte, look at me. Has Heath been ruined because his wife drew a risqué picture of his male parts that was printed and distributed at random throughout London?”

She pressed his handkerchief to her face.

“Well?” he asked, waiting for her to react.

She bit her lip hard to no avail and burst into laughter. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful to Heath, but…but…it’s different for a man.”

He nodded. “Good. I have made you forget yourself for a moment. Now, as to your impending marriage, I take it that you are still not opposed?”

“No,” she said, her unseemly giggles subsiding.

Caleb arched his brow. “Then all is not lost. And one more thing, Charlotte.”

“Yes?”

“Let these be the last tears you shed for a very long time.”

She saw the nuisances to the door and returned to the drawing room to pour a small glass of sherry and extinguish the lamp. It was past time to check on the girls and retire for the night. The visit had buoyed her spirits, and she knew that paying distress calls was not typical of the male nature.

Nothing had been solved. But still she felt better. Gideon would protect her from scandal, and for all she knew the diary had been tossed into the Thames by an itinerant peddler. But then, not knowing its whereabouts would follow her forever like a storm cloud.

For all—

A noise at the window penetrated her thoughts. It was a noise reminiscent of Gideon’s light tapping at the pane. She turned, vacillating briefly before she hurried to draw back the curtains at the window where he stood. She could just make out a portion of the hand that pressed against the glass. He faced the street and then, as if he sensed her watching, he turned his head. It struck her that he was acting rather strangely. Had he been waiting for her brothers to leave? She couldn’t quite make out his face in the darkness. Or had one of them forgotten to tell her something that couldn’t wait until the next day?

Sir Christopher Fenton, master at arms of a popular fencing salon, ordered his assistant to crack open a bottle of porter when he entered the school and saw Gideon practicing his lunges in the gallery. “What’s the matter?” he called out jovially. “Couldn’t think of another excuse to visit Miss Boscastle tonight?”

Gideon shot a wry look at his friend. “Let’s not use foils tonight. That way I can hurt you and pretend it’s an accident.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Kit said. “Except I was going to hurt you so that you’d have a genuine reason for Charlotte’s sympathy. Women love to take care of reckless men like us.”

“I don’t think we need to go that far.”

Kit grinned. “You’ve missed several practices. I would have been worried about you if we hadn’t met at the park. Some of the lads thought you’d given up the sword.”

“What are you grinning about?” Gideon straightened from a lunge. “I’ll be giving up more than fencing practice after I’m married.”

“I don’t see anyone holding a pistol to your head,” Kit retorted.

“And the fact that you work for my betrothed’s cousin does not influence your opinion?”

“Well—”

“And,” Gideon continued, “the fact that Grayson used
his
influence so that a commoner like you is now
Sir
Christopher and not ordinary ‘Kit’ has not swayed your point of view?”

Kit rested back against the wall. “If this is how you behave when you’re away from the lady, I don’t think I want to see the pair of you together.”

Gideon ignored that. He wasn’t about to admit he would have given in to the temptation of visiting Charlotte again if he could think of an excuse.

Kit Fenton was a hard man to fool. He’d been orphaned at birth and brought up in a workhouse, where he’d lived on his wits and brawn until he had been adopted
by a retired cavalry captain. It was Captain Fenton who had taken advantage of Kit’s skill with the sword to reform his ways.

Gideon suspected that there wasn’t much Kit hadn’t seen in his time. He’d turned around the lives of many young men attracted to ruinous adventures. He demanded that his pupils train hard and follow a code of honor.

Gideon was sure that he wouldn’t be the man he was now if not for Kit’s influence.

Even now his friend saw through him. “Your mind is not on your blade, Gideon. If you can’t pay attention, go for a walk.”

“I’m afraid of where I’ll end up again.”

“Then for God’s sake, go to her.”

“No.” Gideon shook his head in refusal. “I can’t do it again. I’ll appear to be desperate.” Which they both knew he was. “Did I tell you about my incident at the theater?”

“I saw the broadsheet.”

“The other man was her first love. He didn’t return her desire at the time.”

“And he does now?”

“To his misfortune, yes.”

“It’s only been what? One day? Three?”

“What can he do?” Gideon asked with the aristocratic negligence that seemed to define his nature.

“Challenge you?”

“Good. I’d enjoy that.”

Kit frowned, drawing up his shirtsleeves. “It would be unpleasant to duel right before your wedding. Bloodshed and brides do not mix.”

“If my memory serves me well, you fought a match
on
your wedding day.”

Kit grimaced. “I didn’t have a choice, did I? And don’t be modest. I doubt I could have concentrated if you hadn’t been watching over my bride.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Gideon shrugged. “I know you would stand as my second in a duel.”

“Every pupil in the salon would. But that doesn’t mean I’m encouraging you to challenge anyone.”

Gideon shook his head, listening to the laughter of students and the clatter of their foils from the lower rooms. “There are times when honor is an unpalatable brew to swallow.”