The Duchess Diaries: The Bridal Pleasures Series (18 page)

“Love is far worse, Gideon. At least with honor one has warnings along the way.”

Gideon made a mocking bow. “Thank you, O wise king, for the belated advice that doesn’t do me a damned bit of good.”

He straightened with a grin that quickly faded when he recognized Devon Boscastle pounding up the stairs toward him. “And here comes my fairy godmother. I think he’s waiting for me to thank him for giving up the rest of my life.”

Devon reached the top of the stairs. “Is that any way to greet a member of the family?”

“Excuse me. I should have referred to you as the ‘evil fairy.’”

Devon was impossible to offend. “Anyone care to practice?”

“Yes,” Gideon said. “Stand right where you are and let me find the darts.”

Devon regarded him with approval. “You look well these days, Gideon. Stopped drinking, did you?”

“I look the same as I did two nights ago. What do you want with me now, you wretch?”

“First off, I want to apologize for calling you a hopeless philanderer.”

“I didn’t know you had,” Gideon said. “But now I really would like those darts. Or a set of Gypsy knives.”

Kit walked between them, shaking his head. “Gentlemen, either air your differences outside or desist. If it is action you crave, then I suggest you put your stubborn heads together and concentrate on finding a certain lady’s lost epistles instead of creating new fodder for another scandal.”

“Pax?” Devon said uncertainly to Gideon.

“Why the hell not?” Gideon said, throwing up his free hand.

“What are you waiting for?” Kit asked Gideon as he led the descent down the gallery stairs into the main area of the salon. “Why don’t you go to her? You’re damned useless as you are. I’ve fenced with seamstresses who ply a needle with more threat than you do your sword.”

Gideon glanced at Devon, who shrugged, shook his head, and said, “Well, don’t look at me. You have the wedding license. I know that
I
would not be kept from the lady I desired.”

“Go,” Kit said. “It’s inevitable.”

“Idiots,” Gideon muttered, and strode out into the street, where his carriage waited.

He wouldn’t dare visit the academy at this time of night. Then again, he wasn’t comfortable calling in the middle of the day, either. A compromise, perhaps? Yes. He would drive past the house and not call.

If he was fortunate he would catch a glimpse of Charlotte
in the window, and that would have to hold him until the next phase of their courtship began.

The lady’s full-bodied screech rattled every bone in Nick’s body. It froze the blood in his veins. Lord God help the neighborhood, but she had a pair of lungs. He wouldn’t be surprised if she shattered the windowpane with her hysterical shrieking. He stumbled back in the flower bed, grateful he hadn’t been tippling or he’d have wet himself from the fright. He hopped over the wall and darted into the street, waving off a dog that ran after him.

“Hey, you, move out the way!” a coachman bellowed, or something to the effect. Nick hadn’t heard a single hoofbeat or carriage wheel approach. He swore his eardrums had sustained lasting damage.

As had his heart, pounding through his body like a military parade.

Who’d have guessed that his beautiful lady of the lustful page could make that ungodly blast from hell? He hadn’t decided who would offer him the most coin for the diary, or if he would sell it at all. All he’d wanted was a peek at her, to see the face and form that matched her earthly confessions. And him thinking she was on the quiet side. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he had her under the blanket and she went to that voice.

He stopped, hands on his knees, drawing in draughts of air to still his pulse. Had she gotten a look at his face? He doubted it. He hadn’t but glimpsed hers before she lost her senses.

He hawked in the gutter and resumed walking, contemplating his future. The next thing he knew a gang of thugs had fallen in line behind him, asking what he had
planned for the night, and how they could be of help. He looked at them and slowly the lady’s voice receded. Nick could never concentrate on any one thought for long. It was about time he got in a good knife fight and impressed the band of homeless street boys who considered him a hero.

“M
iss Boscastle! Miss Boscastle!” Daphne Peppertree was beside herself with concern. “Charlotte, speak to me! What has happened? Did that duke break in here and take advantage of—”

“Do
not
utter another word,” Charlotte said from the depths of the tufted couch to which Ogden and the footmen had borne her after bursting into the room. “There was a face at the window.”

“The duke’s face?” Miss Peppertree demanded in a smug tone.

“No, it was not,” Charlotte replied, struggling to sit up. “It was a leering face, a face with…”

Miss Peppertree sniffed at her in suspicion. “Do I smell spirits on you?”

“You certainly…” Charlotte stared down at her ruffled silk overskirt in dismay. In her panic she must have spilled her glass of sherry on herself. To make the situation worse, two or three of the girls stood listening at the door.

“Where is he?” Miss Peppertree whispered, backing up a step. “Is he hiding in this room?”

Charlotte sank back against the cushions, scowling at the preposterous question. “Do you
see
him hiding anywhere, Daphne? Is there one piece of furniture behind which a grown man could hide?”

Miss Peppertree’s eyes narrowed. She couldn’t see two inches in front of her without her spectacles, let alone distinguish Gideon from a gargoyle. “A man?” She gasped, drawing her hand to the bosom beneath which it could be assumed that her heart was racing in maidenly consternation. “There was a
strange
man staring at you through the window?”

Charlotte nodded weakly, the explanation nearly as exhausting as the ordeal.

“A genuine prowler? Charlotte, are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said grimly. “His face was— Oh, Daphne. The expression…I can’t think of how to describe it. You’d have had the shock of your life if you had seen him.”

“I had enough of a shock when I heard you scream.”

Charlotte shuttered. “I feel violated.”

“That makes two of us,” the other woman said. “Violated by a man I’ve never met.”

Miss Peppertree continued to stare at her in myopic sympathy. “Rankin has gone to fetch Sir Daniel. It’s his night to patrol. He’s probably down at the pub. And speaking of which…” She edged closer to Charlotte and sniffed the air again. “Is that sherry I smell? Is that odor of spirits coming from
you
?”

Charlotte glanced down at the dark brown stain glistening in the fold of her skirt. “I’m afraid that it is.”

The infamy.

She had lost her diary, snagged a duke, and now appeared to have given herself to drinking and going into hysterics over a stranger at the window.

“Trenton,” Miss Peppertree said to the footman standing helplessly behind the tea table. “Go and have a look about the house, and take a cudgel.”

“I feel sick,” Charlotte said.

“I would, too, if I were drinking this late at night. I never knew you liked to imbibe.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“As everyone is aware.” Miss Peppertree glanced up. “There’s a carriage pulling up now. It must be Sir Daniel.”

“That was fast,” Charlotte said, sitting up again. “Daphne, find the glass I dropped, and please don’t bring up my drinking. I didn’t even have time to take a sip.”

“Here.” Miss Peppertree gave her a cushion. “Hide the stain with this so that Sir Daniel doesn’t see it. We don’t want him thinking you’ve taken to the bottle.”

“I haven’t—”

The girls huddled in the doorway retreated suddenly into the hall to make way for the arrival. Charlotte’s heart lifted as Gideon cut across the room to the couch, moving with power and purpose. She didn’t know how or why he had appeared, but she had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

“I saw the lights on and noticed Trenton running down the street,” he said, the pitch of his voice gruff and oddly soothing. “What is wrong?”

“A prowler, Your Grace,” Miss Peppertree answered before Charlotte could reply. “How fortuitous that you happened by at the same time.”

“Oh, Gideon!” Charlotte whispered, staring up at his worried face. “I’m all right.”

He went straight to the couch and knelt at her feet. “What is all this frenzy about?”

“A man…There was a man at the window watching me.”

“Is he gone?” he asked, already rising, the thought apparently so infuriating that his first impulse was to fight.

“Yes. I gave a cry when I saw him.”

“A cry?” Miss Peppertree said. “It was more like a banshee’s wail. It went through the walls of every house on the street and may even have reached the corridors of Whitehall.”

“What did he look like?” Gideon said.

Charlotte closed her eyes briefly. “Horrible, vile, nasty, leering.”

“I meant the details of his face, Charlotte.”

“It was pressed to the window, Gideon.”

“Try to describe him. What color was his hair?”

“He was wearing a cap.”

“What kind of cap?”

“I don’t know. Dark. Woolen.”

“And his eyes?”

“He had two.”

There was a commotion at the door, and Sir Daniel came in, bowing hastily to Gideon. “What did she say?”

“There was a horrible, vile, nasty, and leering man in a dark woolen cap watching her through the window. Other than that, she has not been very helpful.”

“Oh, Gideon. I’m sorry. It gave me quite a start.”

He rose and sat down beside her on the couch, Miss Peppertree compressing her lips in disapproval. “It’s all right, Charlotte. I am here.”

He pulled her into his arms. It was a breach of protocol, and she didn’t care.

“Gideon,” she said against the warm support of his shoulder. “I thought it was you again. I went straight up to the window and pushed back the curtains like a ninnyhammer. And there you weren’t, and he was. I don’t know how long he’d been watching me.”

“What had you been doing?” he asked quietly.

“I was going to put out the lamp.”

“Did he say anything?” Sir Daniel inquired, moving to the window and testing its integrity.

“He might have said, ‘Hell’s bloody bells,’ but it was hard to hear.” She frowned. “He was tapping at the window, I think, to get my attention.”

“And then?” Sir Daniel asked.

“I lost my wits.”

Gideon glanced up at Sir Daniel.

“I’m glad you’re here, Gideon.” She lifted her face from his shoulder. “I feel better now. I shouldn’t have screamed. I should have remained calm and sneaked away to get help. But he scared me.”

“There was nothing unusual about him, Miss Boscastle?”

“Nothing. Except—”

“Yes?”

She shook her head. “I only got a glimpse of him.”

Sir Daniel glanced up from his notebook. “Young or old?”

“Oh. Young, I think.”

“Tall or short?”

Charlotte swallowed. “Tall. But he could have been standing on a brick in the flower bed. The gardener will be furious.”

“Think again. Take your time. What did he look like?”

She covered her face with her hands. “Horrible, vile, nasty, leering.”

Gideon nodded patiently, pulling the cushion from her lap. She pulled it right back. “I think we’ve covered that. But as to his features—”

“Snarling.”

“Snarling? Did he have big teeth? No teeth? Yellow ones?”

“I didn’t think to examine his teeth, Gideon. He took me off guard, as you did last night, and I wouldn’t have gone to look if I’d known it wasn’t you.”

“But I wasn’t snarling at you.”

“That’s true. And you didn’t show your teeth, either. Now that I think about it, he wasn’t snarling.”

“Well, then,” Gideon said in a quiet voice, “what
did
he show?”

“Nothing that you seem to be implying.”

“I know this is a provocative question,” Sir Daniel said, “but it is important: Were you undressing in here, by any chance?”

“This is the drawing room, Sir Daniel.”

Gideon smiled.

Charlotte felt her cheeks flush. “I don’t undress in the drawing room, sir. I review accounts. I read and I write.”

Sir Daniel shook his head in frustration. “My assistant is outside interviewing people who may have been passing by when this happened. If you think of anything that might be helpful, please send for me.”

“What if he’s dangerous?” Charlotte wondered aloud. “We had a girl kidnapped from here last year, as you well know. It was a terrifying experience.”

“I can testify to that,” Miss Peppertree said with a shiver. “The men who enter this house nowadays are ones who have been willfully admitted.” She looked pointedly at Gideon. “Perhaps we should place a footman on guard here with a pistol.”

Charlotte paled at the suggestion. “We cannot chance an accidental shooting with so many girls in the house.”

Gideon rose, his brow furrowed. “The fellows of my fencing salon often volunteer to stand guard at the charity school. We should alert the watchman and have a nightly patrol going until this peeper is found.”

“Peeper?” Charlotte said, aghast. “Why would anyone peep at me?”

Miss Peppertree pursed her lips. “I should think the answer to that is obvious. You have drawn some attention to yourself in the last few days.”

“He could as well have been looking at you,” Charlotte said indignantly.

“I doubt that,” Miss Peppertree retorted, and Charlotte heard Gideon mutter something under his breath that sounded like, “So do I.”

“You could stay with one of your cousins,” Gideon said, falling silent as he lifted the curtain and stared.

“What is it?” Charlotte asked, her voice rising. “Is he back?”

“No. It’s only Sir Daniel’s man. Perhaps I should go out to talk to him.”

Charlotte rose. Now that the initial shock of seeing that face had begun to wear off, she was starting to put her thoughts together. “He might have been anyone passing by,” she conceded. “It’s just that…”

Gideon closed the curtains. “We could move the cabinet
here for a temporary measure. What were you saying, Charlotte?”