Charlotte gripped the reins tightly in her gloved hands as she steered their shiny new barouche into the cavalcade toward Hyde Park. She sat between her husband and her mother—the two people she loved most. It was only fitting for the three to be together in their new carriage for its very first promenade.

Her mother’s lively blue eyes took in their fine surroundings with enthusiasm. She sighed over every nattily dressed lord or lady, and cooed in delight at the spotted Dalmatian carriage dogs accompanying the grandest coaches.

Anthony, however, only had eyes for Charlotte.

It was he who had suggested a drive along the Ring for their barouche’s first outing. He who had agreed without hesitation when Charlotte had teasingly asked if she could take the reins.

Now that she had them, holding such power was exhilarating. Empowering. Terrifying. She wasn’t at all certain whether the horses were heeding her command or simply falling into step with the endless stream of carriages.

“Look,” her mother whispered. “A gentleman with a painted crest upon his coach has matched our pace, as if he wishes to speak with us.”

“I can’t look,” Charlotte said through gritted teeth as she clutched the reins even tighter. “If I look, I’m liable to swerve right into him.”

Anthony tugged the reins from her white-knuckled hands and greeted the gentleman. “Good afternoon, Lambley.”

Charlotte’s mouth fell open.

“Fairfax.” The duke inclined his head toward the ladies. “Mrs. Fairfax. Miss Devon.”

He drove off without another word.

Her mother stared in shock. “Did a duke just publicly acknowledge us?”

“He probably ruined our reputations by doing so,” Anthony assured her. “We’re far more respectable than Lambley.”

Charlotte shook her head fondly.

Now that Anthony had finished repaying his gambling debts, he had no legal responsibility to keep his position as the night butler for the duke’s scandalous masquerades. He claimed he stayed on solely to relieve the duke of his money, but Charlotte rather suspected her husband enjoyed feeling useful. She certainly did. In certain circles, her name was the first to surface when someone was in need of good, sound advice. Not the highest circles, of course. But having circles at all was new to Charlotte. She had friends now. People who didn’t shy away from her company.

“Fairfax!” A handsome gentleman with thick golden locks and a brilliant white smile rode up beside them on a black stallion.

“Lord Wainwright.” Anthony tipped his hat. “Heading to a ride on Rotten Row?”

“I no longer care about such distractions. You must tell me who the divine creature was in the emerald dress,” Lord Wainwright said in hushed tones. “The one in the scarlet plumed mask with the diamond eyeholes. I am desperate.”

“I’m afraid I cannot help.” Anthony’s tone was firm. “Privacy is paramount. If you need to contact a guest from a party, you could consider speaking to the party’s host.”

Lord Wainwright rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “He won’t tell me. He said you wouldn’t either, but I had to try.”

Before Anthony could respond, the handsome gentleman cantered off on his stallion, vanishing like a prince from a fairy story.

“Who is Lord Wainwright?” Charlotte asked once the dust had settled behind him.

Anthony grimaced. “Do you remember when you asked me if I knew any scandalous dukes and earls? That is the rake I’m delighted you didn’t meet before you met me. Wainwright is more than incorrigible. That particular earl has cut quite a swath in the ballrooms—even the masked ones.”

She nestled into him. “When shall I be invited to attend one? A masquerade, I mean.”

“As long as Wainwright might be there?” Anthony clutched his chest in mock horror. “Never.”

“Charlotte,” her mother hissed, rapping her knee with a fan. “Charlotte, look. I recognize that crest. It belongs to the Duke of Courteland.”

As the coach-and-four passed, Charlotte realized one of the ladies inside the carriage was Lady Pettibone, her terrifying dragon aunt. Their eyes met.

Charlotte tensed. Not being evicted should she appear at the lady’s private estate was not at all the same as being given leave to acknowledge their tenuous relationship in public. She gave a tentative smile and held her breath.

Lady Pettibone inclined her head. “Mrs. Fairfax.”

The breath whooshed out of Charlotte’s lungs in relief. “Lady Pettibone. How lovely to see you.”

Lady Pettibone’s coach pulled farther ahead, and the ladies inside disappeared from view.

Charlotte’s mother looked at her in awe. “Lady Pettibone greeted you?”

Charlotte lifted a shoulder as if the tense moment hadn’t very nearly stopped her heart.

The truth was… it didn’t matter who acknowledged her. It had taken her all this time to realize that most of London’s inhabitants hadn’t the least idea who she was, much less were aware of the circumstances of her birth. Even her mother’s once-infamous face no longer raised many brows. Despite the size of this enormous city, Charlotte could spend the majority of her time in relative anonymity.

She was just herself now: Mrs. Charlotte Fairfax. Giver of advice, and member of lively book clubs everywhere. Now that Anthony was out of debt and they could afford to leave the city, she no longer desired to. There was nothing to escape.

She leaned her head against her husband’s strong shoulder in satisfaction. He immediately wrapped his arm about her to hold her close.

Charlotte smiled contentedly. She had friends now. Security for her mother. A much larger family. Nephews she couldn’t wait to spoil. A husband who adored her.

Love filled her heart.

She had finally come home.

* * *

Who is the mystery lady that handsome rake Lord Wainwright is desperate to unmask?

Find out in Lord of Pleasure, the next full-length Rogues to Riches regency romance. Keep turning for a sneak peek!

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