The Duchess Diaries: The Bridal Pleasures Series (22 page)

Fanny frowned in concern. “What shall I say if he asks to see you again?”

“He shouldn’t make it past the guards. If he persists, we shall notify the authorities.”

“Nobody would arrest him, madam.”

“True,” Audrey said, her mouth curving in a thin smile. “But no one will arrest me, either, which doesn’t mean he can’t cause trouble in spades. I ask you, is that the behavior of a man who cares for me?”

“It might be. Do you wish to change for bed?”

“No. In fact, bring out my dark red dress. I feel invigorated. I can’t go to bed this early because a thief taker doesn’t approve of my profession.”

“The silk or the satin?”

“The silk. And, Fanny, if Sir Daniel does come to the door tonight, have the guards explain to him that in the future he must have an appointment.”

C
harlotte composed herself to make her farewell before entering the classroom. She refused to fall apart in front of her girls during her last days at the school. She wouldn’t confess to them that when all was said and done, she doubted that being proficient in the language of fans would take them far in the marriage mart. But the steps leading to a proposal—she couldn’t give them any helpful advice about that either, not given her accidental strategy. She was determined to leave some impression of dignity and encouragement at the academy. Unfortunately she hadn’t stood like a pillar of propriety as her proper world dissolved around her.

The girls respected her. And she would miss them. It was a blessing that their innocent minds could not understand the scope of the imbroglio she had created with her wicked chronicles. And that no whiff of scandal had reached their parents yet.

Her pupils looked to her as a model of correctness
and she would protect their tender illusions with her last breath. She prepared herself for emotional outbursts and plaintive voices begging her to stay.

She girded her loins for the good fight and opened the door.

Not a head turned. Not a tear fell in the cluster of whispering girls at the window.

“He’s keeping a woman at Mrs. Watson’s.”

“He’s only marrying her because the marquess threatened to kill him if he didn’t.”

“Why did she go to his house in the first place?”

“Why do you think, pea brain?”

“I don’t believe she went there for what you’re thinking.”

“She went there for something.”

“It was her diary, and we’re not supposed to know.”

“Oh, right. She and the duke just fell in love on the spot and had to get married. She was duke hunting.”

“They
were
together at the dance.”

“I wish they had carried on here so that we could have watched. How will we ever learn anything about love?”

Charlotte’s voice dropped to a pitch used only by demons in the deepest recesses of hell. “
Ladies!
I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Haven’t you learned anything from this school?”

The girls scrambled back to their chairs, guilty faces avoiding Charlotte’s withering stare. Not that Charlotte’s own conscience was unburdened. However, as Grayson had pointed out, it remained a primary rule in the polite world that admitting an indiscretion was worse than committing it at the start.

She waited for the last whisper of silk to subside.
“That is much better. Today, ladies, we continue to learn the subtle language of the fan. As you know, a proper fan is an essential fashion accessory for a lady. To carry an article one does not know how to use is gauche.”

She paused, suddenly tempted to confess that a fan would have been a useless weapon against Gideon’s powerful allure, but she could not confide to the girls that she had brought his attention on herself. The truth was that
she
had seduced him, however inadvertent it had been, and…and…she wasn’t at all sorry.

“One day,” she said in the most even voice she could manage, “I might understand enough about love to explain it to you. Or maybe I’ll never know what it is. Maybe one of you will be able to elucidate it for me when you are older. Until then there are feminine arts that can be taught to hasten our progress on the path of matrimony.”

She looked into the angelic faces and smiled, and each girl looked back at her in complicit understanding. “Open your fans.”

There was a moment of silence followed by the precise clack of eleven fans unfolding before the last snapped like a pistol shot carried across the room. Charlotte winced.

“Verity, you may discharge your fan like that only in an emergency. Can you imagine what effect your action would have upon a suitor’s hearing?”

“I keep forgetting, miss.”

“No one is liable to forget you if you disrupt an event with such a noise. Now, you will recall that the last five letters of the alphabet are known as the fifth movement. Bring your fan—delicately, ladies—to your forehead.”

She surveyed the class with satisfaction. “Very nice. Now signal to me the following message: ‘Dance with
me,’ using the movement of your right hand to the left arm to begin.”

“Miss Boscastle, Verity spelled out a vulgarity to me!”

“Verity—”

The girl stood and pointed her fan at the window. “He’s back!” she said excitedly. “The man in the window, miss. I just saw him peeking in at us. Let’s get him, girls.”

“Let’s not!” Charlotte said in a horror. “At least, not any of you.”

She rushed to the bell cord, motioning to one of the older girls on her way. “Fetch Ogden and the footman.” Then: “Are you sure you saw someone, Verity?”

The girl nodded vigorously.

“Line up, ladies, and exit by the side door.”

“What about you, miss?”

“I shall be fine.” And she knew that she would. A peeper was unlikely to threaten her in broad daylight, when the streets hustled and bustled with witnesses. She wasn’t alone. She was prepared this time. She would get a better description.

She hurried out into the hall to intercept Ogden in the act of answering the door. “Stop,” she said. “Don’t let that fiend into the house.”

“The fiend, miss?” the butler said in confusion, staring at the man who stepped into view.

“Phillip,” she said in astonishment. “Was that
you
staring at us through the window?”

He swept off his hat, his red hair windblown, his manner grave. “I was hoping to catch your attention.”

“You certainly accomplished that,” she said, her lips tightening. “You have upset everyone in the house.”

“By trying to attract your notice? I thought I was quiet.”

She felt the servants gathering in the shadows behind her. “It wasn’t
you
who was prowling outside the window the other night, was it?”

“Good God, no. And please refrain from using your fan.”

She lowered her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“May we speak alone?”

She glanced around. “It isn’t a good time.”

“Please.” He gave her the insincere smile that used to melt her heart. Now it insulted her intelligence. What had she ever seen in him? How wretched it would have been if he had returned her affection and she had married him, forever believing herself to be a giantess with big teeth, instead of the goddess Gideon could not resist.

“Your brothers told me that I should not come here,” he added. “I am risking their friendship to see you.”

She sighed. “Very well. Come with me into the drawing room. Rankin.” She turned to the young servant who had silently entered the hall, a bat clutched in his hand. “You can put that down,” she whispered. “But I’d like you to accompany us. Goodness knows the girls don’t need another scandal to set them off.”

“I would prefer to talk to you alone,” Phillip persisted as she led the way to the formal room.

“That isn’t done,” she said, dismissing his request with the confidence that had come from…Gideon. He might not ever love her, but he had respect for her feelings.

“You’ve been alone with Wynfield.”

She spun around, her fan poised. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

He stepped away from the fan.

“Are you going to brain me again?”

“Not unless you give me reason.”

“I feel stupid gadding about London with an egg-size lump on my head.”

“You should have thought of that before you accosted me in the theater.”

“Accosted you?” he said in disbelief. “How can a man who is hoping to save you from your regrettable affair with the duke be accused of anything so dastardly?”

“You’re the one who’s behaving like a dastard,” she said. “Now come with me or go away.”

He sighed. Then he followed her, and the footman followed him, positioning himself between them like a garden wall.

“Does he have to stand in the middle like that?” Phillip asked over Rankin’s shoulder.

“Yes, I’m afraid he does.”

“Charlotte, I am here to offer you a chance to escape your sordid engagement.”

“My what?”

“I know that this match with Wynfield was the result of an innocent indiscretion.”

She pursed her lips. “Do you?” She was sure that she had been indiscreet. But her thoughts about Gideon hadn’t been innocent at all.

His jaw hardened. “I also know his reputation as a libertine. He took advantage of you. How else could it have happened?”

“Oh, Phillip, Phillip.” She leaned to the right of Rankin’s shoulder to address the question. “It was the other way around. I trapped him. In fact, I had been laying my trap for months. I wove a web that neither of us could escape.”

He smiled uneasily. “You don’t have to defend him to
me. I saw what a beast he was at the theater. An arrogant bully. A domineering—”

“—duke?” She sighed. “Why the rush to wed me now, Phillip? Were you waiting for the moment I fell in love so that you could ruin another dream for me?”

“Another dream?” he asked slowly. “
I
was your dream?”

She shook her head. “At one time. Incredible, isn’t it?”

“I think you’ve become far too—” He frowned, breaking off. “Very well, I shall be truthful. My cousin Ardmore has no male heir except me. I am to receive an inheritance upon his death.”

“And?”

“And—” His face reddened a shade lighter than his hair. “He will give me half of my legacy now if I marry into an aristocratic family.”

“I should have known,” she said in chagrin. “Well, there are other families in England to exploit.” She gestured to the door. “Happy hunting.”

He changed his stance. “You are guileless, Charlotte. He’s taking advantage of you.”

“I’m as guilty as sin. It’s a fact. Accept it.”

“Let me marry you. We shall elope this evening.”

“Elope? Gideon would tear you into a thousand pieces before we could leave London.”

He gave her a pitying look. “No, he won’t. He will thank me for rescuing him from a marriage he never sought. You’re not the type who attracts men like him.”

She turned away.

She knew better than to let Phillip’s opinion wound her. It would have been perfect if Gideon
had
chosen her of his own will. If she were honest with herself, she had to admit he intended to be her husband in name
only. She knew his tastes ran to sultry trollops who had studied the art of seduction.

But she wasn’t about to give him up without a battle. She could still be the most polite lady at the ball and a passionate companion in the bedchamber. If Gabrielle and her ilk thought to steal Gideon from his wife, then Charlotte would take off her elbow-length gloves and do battle with all the fire of her Boscastle forebears. And if Phillip thought he could win her back—well, it wouldn’t happen. She didn’t want to spend her life with a man she had academically and romantically outgrown. He was yesterday’s news. The duke was tomorrow’s scandal.

“Charlotte,” he said urgently. “You must decide. We’ve known each other for years. I lost you through my own mistakes. But I have changed.”

“So have I,” she said. “You have to let me go, because even if he doesn’t love me, I do love him.”

She would rather grow old with Miss Peppertree than marry Phillip. The two spinsters could dodder around together, meddling in other people’s lives. Because if Charlotte didn’t marry Gideon, she would never marry at all.

“Listen to reason,” Phillip said, his voice rising in anger. “The duke is only going to break your heart.”

G
ideon had spent the morning with Devon, attending a fencing exhibition that Kit had performed in Knightsbridge. Ordinarily he would have returned to the salon with Kit for a celebration. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Charlotte. He’d like to believe, as she did, that there was no connection between her lost diary and the face she’d seen in the window. But it was too much of a coincidence that her diary had gone missing the same night the major had been burglarized. His mind kept trying to put all the pieces together.

And his inattention was obvious to his friends. “Do you want us to drop you off at Charlotte’s academy?” Kit asked slyly, lounging across the carriage with his sword in his lap.

“No. I need to practice today.”

Kit pressed his sword to the window. “Aren’t we close?”

“Very close,” Devon said, serious for once. “Perhaps
we should stop by, Gideon. In case that man is still in the area.”

“I don’t know,” Gideon said, watching Kit slide a soft cloth over his sword. “She’s probably in the middle of a lesson.”

“I think you’re dying now to see her,” Kit said. “I think that she means more to you than you want to admit.”

Gideon slumped back against the squabs. “Does it really show?”

Kit laughed. “You’re trying to convince
us
that you’re marrying her only because it’s the right thing to do.”

Gideon shrugged. “She’s lovely; I do admit it, and there’s something about her that makes me…insane. You must help me. I don’t know what happened. I’m dying to bed her— Excuse me, Devon. I was speaking frankly and forgot for a moment that she’s your cousin.”

“That’s perfectly all right,” Devon said. “I enjoy bedding my wife, too, and Charlotte will be yours in a few days.”

Gideon shook his head. “She makes me laugh when I don’t feel like laughing. Take this diary nonsense, the things she wrote about me. I ought to be furious. I
was
furious. But now I don’t quite understand what I feel.”