8
After dropping off Miss Allendale at her home, Sir Tidley drove to the mews near his house in town and handed off the reins to his real groom. Together they went to his home, entering through the back gate into the garden.
“Sorry you failed to impress upon her the danger,” Michael said.
“I think she understands but believes she can triumph over such evil. I fear for her.”
“Rightly so. If I weren’t such a bufflehead, I’d begin to wonder if you’re falling in love with her.”
Charles scowled at his friend.
Michael backed up a step. “Forgive me. I obviously erred.” One raised eyebrow indicated that the knight was only placating and wasn’t for one instant repentant or retracting his statement.
“Any suggestions?”
Michael paced between the honeysuckle hedge and the roses. “I can think of none. She is her own person. I’ll apprise Lord Hughes of the danger. I can discover where she will be every night, and if you can try to attend, I shall also be present in some way to keep an eye out. Perhaps between the two of us we can endeavor to keep her safe.”
Charles nodded. “Tonight it is the Wilmington soirée. Ugh. I hate those things.”
“Rather be out fending off blackguards attempting to hold up carriages?”
“Neither is enjoyable. The spy life is waning in its attractions.”
“I would suggest other ‘attractions’ have garnered your attention, but I suspect you’d retaliate.” With a tip of his hat he was off.
Charles shook his head at his departing friend. As much as he hated to admit it, Michael was correct. A certain woman’s charms were definitely distracting.
He went inside to prepare for the evening. The lone bright spot to hours conversing with debutantes would be possibly engaging Miss Allendale in a conversation. He enjoyed verbally sparring with her. And that’s not all, is it? By no means was it all.
She’d been slowly reeling his heart in against both their wills.
And nothing good could come of it.
~*~
Walking into the Wilmington home, he handed off his hat and cane and strode into the first room where people milled around and talked. He didn’t see Henrietta, but came across Lady Grey sitting with another dowager. He caught her eye, gave her a nod and strode forward and through to an adjoining room. Library, if he guessed correctly.
Fewer people mingled in there, but again no Henrietta. He spied Marcus. Intent on his errand he walked through several other spaces until he came to the ballroom set up for the performance of some music. Still, no Miss Allendale.
Someone bumped into him. “Garden,” the man whispered and was gone in a flash, but Charles knew instantly it was Sir Michael.
The night was balmy but clear, so Charles stepped onto the back patio and wandered around until he found Miss Allendale alone and gazing at a statue of a young woman, partially clothed, in the embrace of a man, also with little clothing. He came to stand alongside her. The scent of spring drew him closer.
She startled when she realized she wasn’t alone.
“What makes a man and a woman do such things?”
He frowned. “What things?”
She pointed to the statue. “Remove clothes. Touch…”
“Lust. Passion. Sometimes even love. It needs to happen for the human race to continue on.”
“I never really understood it.”
He reached to touch her arm and she swung to face him, her eyes searching his. “You really feel nothing?” he asked. Warmth spread through him and it took all his will to not pull her closer.
Her frown tempted him to kiss her. He’d be fortunate if he walked out alive if he tried it.
He gulped. “We should return inside.”
The click of a gun was his first warning they were no longer alone.
Her wide eyes indicated she knew nothing of the intruder’s presence.
The man stepped forward with a domino covering his face. “Come on, little lady. Do as I say and no one will hurt you.”
The gun was pointed at Charles’s temple. “Courage, sweetheart,” he whispered as her face lost all color.
“Sorry to disturb this lover’s tété-a-tété. Oh, wait. I’m not sorry at all.” He grabbed for Henrietta, but she backed away.
“If you’re going to steal her away could you at least give us one last moment together?”
Henrietta’s wide eyes held questions.
The gun lowered. “Fine. But I get to watch.”
“You’re evil,” Miss Allendale said.
“You’ll understand that more fully soon enough.” The man cackled.
Charles reached for her and pulled her to himself. “If I might die let it be with the thought of your lips on mine,” he whispered as he lowered his head to hers. Their lips met, and he fought to keep himself from being drawn into the well of sensations they conjured in him. He broke it off and held her close. “Be brave.”
A swift roundhouse kick knocked the gun out of the man’s hand but not before it fired, nicking the statue.
Henrietta ducked as the man swung for Charles.
The two fought, but soon the man was subdued and Charles quieted him by shoving the man’s head into the pool beneath the statue until he stopped struggling. Pulling the attacker from the water, Charles dropped the man on the ground, checking to make sure the man was still alive. He was. Charles stood.
Henrietta rushed into his arms and pressed her lips to his again. This time he allowed himself the moment to savor her sweetness. With his arms wrapped around her, he was in heaven.
A throat cleared. “Explain yourself.”
Henrietta stepped back as if her brother had slapped her. Her hand rose to cover her lips.
“We were having a conversation when this ruffian set upon us, threatening to drag your sister away. I defeated him, and she expressed her gratitude.”
“Gratitude is a few words of thanks or a bottle of brandy—not what I witnessed.”
“Marcus,” Henrietta pleaded.
“Hush. I’ve given you freedom, but this time you’ve crossed a line.” He pointed to the house. “See all those windows? That gunshot surely brought eyes to them to witness your ‘gratitude.’”
Marcus turned to Charles.
“I’ll be on your doorstep in the morning to make arrangements,” Charles said, frowning.
Lord Remington’s shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh. “Thank you for saving her life and her reputation. I will let it out that you are engaged.”
“But!” Henrietta protested. She turned to Charles. “Was this a set-up?”
“No. I would never do that to you.” All the previous joy at her kiss dissipated like a vapor.
“How do I know for sure? You lied to me about your title.”
“I already explained that and apologized. I thought you’d forgiven me.”
“Forgive you? I hardly know you and now we’re supposed to march to the altar? What of all that tripe you fed me about—”
“Henri. I’m warning you. Cease.” Her brother took her arm and escorted her away as she railed at him.
Sir Michael met Charles as he came around another side of the house. “Congratulations are in order?”
Brows furrowed, Charles stared at his friend. “You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”
“You mean other than to remove that ruffian while you three were arguing? No.”
“Thank you. Do you think he’ll talk? Lead us to the Black Diamond?”
“Doubtful. Right now he’s not even awake to tell us his name, much less anything else. I watched you take him down and leave him alive. Nicely done.”
Shaking his head, Charles sighed. “Escape the gun only to face the noose.”
“Didn’t appear to me that you minded the sample you had.”
Charles growled and stalked off. He needed to sleep—and be prepared to show Marcus he was able to care for a bride. He wasn’t too disappointed with the outcome, with the exception of her lack of acceptance. After that kiss? Part of him was grateful for Marcus’s timely interruption. He hadn’t intended to compromise her, but after what he’d experienced, the temptation of those lips and wide eyes was too much to pass up. And the thought that he would have the legal right to sample them did not bring the dismay he anticipated.
Strangely enough, he experienced joy.
Now if only he could convince Henrietta that this marriage to him could be everything she’d ever hoped for and more.
~*~
Henrietta marched up the stairs to her room. She’d refused to talk to Marcus all the way home. She admitted to herself that the situation wasn’t entirely Charles’s fault. She’d been attempting to draw out the attacker when Charles arrived. And she hadn’t fought his advances either. Especially after he’d kissed her that first time. She’d initiated the second, but couldn’t regret it.
Her fingers touched her lips, and she stood to look in the mirror. Was she changed by the encounter? Would people be able to look at her and see it written on her features?
Hair had begun to escape its pins since Charles’s embrace, so she pulled out all the pins and allowed her long locks to flow freely.
Marriage. And a forced one at that. She sighed. Well, if she was to be forced into the wedded state, it was at least with a man she could cross swords with verbally and who also understood the spy game they both played. And, as she’d witnessed tonight, he was also a man who would be willing to give his life to save hers.
That thought sobered her. She sat on the bed, numb. Images of him not even flinching as the gun was held to his temple but focused solely on giving her strength ran through her mind.
Images of him beating the attacker and almost drowning him followed. She feared he might even kill the man. Not that it wasn’t what the villain deserved. She remembered what Charles had said when they’d first met. He desired to leave judgment over life and death to God and the magistrate.
Wisdom. The thought that she might have killed the attacker herself, had the opportunity presented itself, shamed her more than being caught in Charles’s embrace.
Marriage. To Charles. As much as she railed against it, there was a part of her that trembled with excitement at the thought of more of those kisses and the sensations his touch elicited.
Something so delightful certainly couldn’t be good.