The Duchess Diaries: The Bridal Pleasures Series (26 page)

“How can you tell?” Charlotte was putting on her slippers. They weren’t hers and she had to force them onto her feet.

Jane crawled around Chloe and sprang from the bed to the window, her honey-colored hair streaming down her back. “It’s relief. Gideon must have won the duel. Which isn’t a surprise.”

“Oh, thank…” Charlotte straightened. “I don’t suppose you can tell from Weed’s wave whether Phillip survived or not.”

“No. But Grayson is getting out of the carriage.” Jane opened the window. “Grayson! What happened? We are dying to know!”

“The idiot shot himself in the foot!”

Jane bit her lip, drawing back against Charlotte. “I think it’s safe to assume that he isn’t talking about the duke.”

Gideon had asked Grayson to reassure Charlotte that both parties had survived the duel. He would have called on her himself, but on the drive back from the park it suddenly occurred to him that the major’s parting words to him last night were rather odd.

Two in one night! You keep it up for them.…

Two…ladies? What was Boulton talking about? Yes, obviously he had spotted Charlotte, who was an eye-catching lady and would stir curiosity by sneaking into
Gideon’s house. There had been someone at the window last night. Could it have been a lady?

Had Major Boulton seen the person Gideon had missed? It hadn’t been Harriet, had it?

It was conceivable that she had peered inside the window to make sure that Charlotte was perfectly safe. Alarming but conceivable. The most disturbing thought was that someone had been trailing her—the same person who had frightened her at the academy. Coincidence? He should have asked Devon whether he’d seen anyone while he waited outside.

It was also possible that the thief had been hoping to strike the square again. If Gideon had not been so distracted by Charlotte’s visit, this might have occurred to him at the time. But how well could the major see across the street? The spry rascal must be in the habit of watching Gideon’s house for his nightly entertainment.

As soon as his carriage stopped, he jumped out and crossed the street to knock again at the major’s door. A maidservant answered, gazing up at him with an awestruck expression. “Your Grace,” she said, stuffing a stray lock of hair into her cap. “To what do we owe this honor?”

He gave her a terse smile. “Excuse me for the interruption, but if you don’t mind I would like to speak with the major for a moment.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” She wrapped her chapped hands around her mop handle and sighed. “You can interrupt my chores anytime you like. This is my mopping day.”

“I shall remember that. Is he indisposed?”

“Who?”

“The major. The gentleman you mop for.”

“Oh.” She and the mop straightened at the same time. “He isn’t here. He and his daughter left for the country
after breakfast this morning. Is there anything I can do for Your Grace?”

Another maid appeared behind her with a bucket.
Damnation,
Gideon thought. He could hardly track down Boulton on a country road to ask him a simple question.

“My domestic needs are being met at this time,” he said, pivoting on the step.

“Ooh, I’ll bet they are,” she cooed, erupting into a storm of giggles that followed Gideon into the street.

G
ideon had decided that he might indeed commit murder before his accelerated courtship had been played out. Not fifteen hours after that sorry excuse of a duel, he was reminded that a protector, even one supposedly in name only, could not afford to lower his guard.

In fact, he had sensed a week ago, when Shelby brought him the invitation to this evening’s masquerade supper at the Opera House, that to accept would be a mistake. But Charlotte hinted that several members of her family would attend and that she loved fancy-dress balls. He agreed to take her. However, he felt like a fool for letting Kit convince him that the fencing pupils of the academy should costume themselves like a crew of buccaneers. When he asked why, Kit had replied, “It’s one of the few chances that will come your way to wear a genuine cutlass and be admired in public for your blade.”

Protesting inwardly, Gideon put on a pair of snug black leather breeches and a flowing white Holland shirt
beneath a quilted scarlet waistcoat. Then he donned a long brass-buttoned coat and a plumed hat. He buckled on a sword belt and strapped on his cutlass.

He refused to blacken his teeth or to wear the gold earring that Kit had sent along.

The odd thing was that Jane, Harriet, and Charlotte all stared at him in obvious approval as he climbed into the carriage. Grayson grunted in amusement.

“Would you like us to drop you off at the Thames?” he asked in a snide voice.

Jane was disguised as her namesake, Jane Seymour, in a blue velvet dress with a ruffled collar. She lowered her mask and gave her husband a stern look. “Grayson, a man who is dressed as Robinson Crusoe has no right to talk. That beard is disgusting. It looks like something in which a pair of mice might reside. I have to wonder what you and our valet were drinking. It’s a good thing Weed didn’t see you.”

“Maybe he didn’t feel like shaving,” Harriet said, adjusting her laced bodice. She looked fetching as a tavern wench, with her gamine face and red-gold hair.

“Thank you, Harriet,” Grayson said, nodding at her.

Finally Gideon glanced at Charlotte, intending only a courteous exchange. But her costume rendered him wordless. He had never seen a fair-haired Cleopatra in a crown, arm circlets, and diaphanous robes. He thought she looked more like an Ophelia, and altogether too alluring for the other men to resist.

He was annoyed with her display of sensuality and struggled to hide it. “That is an original costume,” he said after enough time had elapsed for everyone in the carriage to sense his disapproval.

But Charlotte’s cool smile gave him the impression
that she knew why he disliked her costume. “Thank you, Your Grace. In Renaissance paintings Cleopatra was portrayed with light hair even though her ancestry was actually Greek.”

“Fascinating,” he said, and turned his head the same instant another smile lit a fire in her eyes.

“Your Grace?” Jane said, leaning forward.

He glanced at her in reluctance. “Yes?”

She was holding a…a basket under his chin. “Would you care for a fig? They’re good for unstopping one’s system.”

Harriet burst into laughter, Grayson made another rude noise, and when Gideon met Charlotte’s gaze, something in his heart broke free.

It hurt. It felt like a shovel digging into stone. He fought it, the rawness of emotion, the withering of darkness under light.

“I don’t care for figs,” he said, frowning sternly to prevent himself from giggling like one of the girls. Then, to his relief, the carriage rolled to a stop behind the procession of vehicles that had already arrived at the party.

Quite unexpectedly, as he climbed out of the carriage to take Charlotte’s hand, he found that he was looking forward to the night.

He felt something beyond desire for her, presumably the start of affection. It seemed she was full of surprises for him. No one would have guessed the depths of her sensuality on the basis of a casual acquaintance. Or how much of an effect she could have on him.

Perhaps he would dance with her this evening. He didn’t like dancing much—still, it would provide an excuse to be near her. And it was something he could do to please her.

If only he could have managed to keep her in his sight. Hardly a quarter hour passed before they were separated in the flow of costumed guests that poured into the ballroom.

“Don’t you look like a wicked buccaneer?” a playful female voice remarked, and Gideon glared down at a face half masked in black velvet. The lady was, he thought distractedly, Charlotte’s cousin Chloe. He recognized her by her smile.

“I feel like a proper moron,” he said darkly.

“Shall we dance?”

He stared over her head, half listening. “Where did she go?”

“She’s probably somewhere in the ballroom,” she answered.

She clasped his arm. He hadn’t a notion what her costume was meant to be. She was wearing knee breeches and a tight frock coat that made him think of his butler, Shelby. “What does she look like, pirate?”

He turned to study her more closely. It sounded like a peculiar question, but then Charlotte and Chloe had arrived separately and might not have known what the other planned to wear. Women held strange notions about their apparel. “She’s Cleopatra,” he said.

“How intriguing,” she whispered with another teasing smile. “There are only twenty of them here tonight.”

She was right. There were. Some flaunted dark lush curls and monstrous headdresses. One wore leopard skins. An older lady looked mummified in white silk and pearl bindings.

But there was only one dreamy-eyed Cleopatra who stood taller than the others and appeared…Her eyes met his. She lifted her feathered fan to hail him. He
looked past her, irritated at the attention she was drawing. He didn’t think she realized that a young gallant in a cape was staring at her as if she were his next meal. It wasn’t her old love. The blockhead could hardly hobble his way through this crush, let alone dance.

“You’ll have to pardon me, Chloe,” he said to his forgotten companion. “The wolves are about to pounce again.”

She refused to release his arm. “My name isn’t Chloe,” she said, her face lifted in flirtation. “It’s Florence. And I’m available.”

“Good Lord. Let me go.”

He shouldered, elbowed, asked to be excused, and forged a path across the room. Wearing a cutlass on his hip and a plumed hat that obscured his vision didn’t make this an easy task. It wasn’t particularly helpful either that three of his fencing cohorts, sensing trouble, decided to follow in his wake.

The young gallant had positioned himself at Charlotte’s side, but she appeared too engrossed in waving to Gideon to notice.

The man in the cape did notice his approach.

He took one look at Gideon’s face, glanced at the three buccaneers behind him, and quickly melted into the crowd.

“Charlotte.” Gideon heaved a sigh of frustration. “Why did you wander off?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. I was talking to Miss Martout’s mother and the next thing I knew she and I were pushed apart.”

He glared at a gentleman who turned his head to stare Charlotte up and down. “What are you looking at?” he said contemptuously.

“I— Nothing, sir. I— Good evening. Enjoy the party.”

Charlotte was jostled against Gideon. “Do not start again, please,” she whispered.

“Your Grace,” one of the fencing pupils asked, “do you need our services? Would you like us to escort him outside?”

“No. I need…” He swallowed.

He needed Charlotte.

“Go on,” he answered without turning around. “Thank you for offering.” He glanced down slowly at the gold necklace that glistened above Charlotte’s bodice. Until now he hadn’t noticed the bloodred rubies fastened between the links. “Are those gemstones real?”

“Yes.”

He lifted the necklace from her throat with his forefinger. “They are,” he said in surprise.

“Gideon, there are hundreds of people here tonight. And they’re watching us.”

“That I noticed. Who gave you this?”

“I borrowed it from Jane. Didn’t you see it in the carriage?”

“No,” he said. “I was trying not to stare at you.” He raised his gaze to hers as he released the necklace. “Do you like jewels?”

“I’ve never had much occasion to wear them at the academy.”

His gaze traveled down her throat to the hem of her robes in flagrant disregard of who might be watching. He forced his gaze back to hers. “What inspired you to dress as Cleopatra?”

Her self-conscious smile was more seductive than she could know. “It was one of the costumes we used for plays at school.”

“I like to play.”

“Gideon.”

“You do, too. I read it with my own eyes.”

“Your eyes are reflecting your inner demons at this moment,” she said, turning her head aside and exposing the tempting curve of her nape.

“Darling, my eyes could not possibly reveal the diabolical things I intend to do to you.”

“Well, not here. And not dressed like this.”

“Then let’s get undressed.” He caught her hand, drawing her from the floor. “That’s better.”

“The dance is starting,” she said.

“Yes. I know.”

“Why are we leaving?”

“Because I don’t want to take you on a dance floor.”

He wanted her on the dais, a woman of wicked legend who invited powerful men to master her.

“Gideon,” she said, resisting. “You’re behaving like a—”

“—buccaneer?”

“Now that you mention it,” she said breathlessly, and caught her crown before it slid off. “Yes. That was one of your friends you almost bowled over.”

“If he’s a friend then he’ll understand.”

She muttered an apology over her shoulder. “You won’t have friends for long if you charge at them like a frigate.”

“I have plenty of friends,” he snapped, nodding to Kit and his wife, Violet, who stepped back simultaneously to let him pass.

“Where are we going?” she demanded, waving to Harriet and an older lady he didn’t know but who appeared to recognize him.

“Wherever I don’t need to build a fortress around you.”

Charlotte would have followed
him
anywhere. Even though she’d be horrified if he got in another duel, she had felt a secret thrill when he’d chased off the impudent gentleman whose leering attention she had ignored. She was immensely relieved that Gideon hadn’t resorted to brute force.

Her conscience could not have borne two duels fought over her in the same day. Or any day. He was exceeding her dreams at a dizzying rate. And did she attempt to discourage him? He was unpredictable, protective, and…hers. The bond between them was growing stronger. She wanted to keep him away from other women with a passion as intense as, if better contained than, his.

He led her from the stuffy, brightly lit ballroom and down a dark corridor that was occupied by another couple engaged in…Charlotte looked away.

“Excuse us,” Gideon said loudly.