The Duchess Diaries: The Bridal Pleasures Series (32 page)

“I’ve no desire to marry a duke.”

“You were the one who said I mustn’t hide my light under a bushel. What about yours?”

Miss Peppertree shrugged. “Perhaps I’m waiting for the right man to light my wick.”

Charlotte laughed in surrender. “Then all the best to you. I love him, Daphne.”

“Yes.” Daphne removed her spectacles to dab a knuckle at the edge of her eyes. “That has been obvious from the start. Better yet, he loves you.”

“Do you think so?”

“I have from the night you went into hysterics over that face in the window. He couldn’t hide his feelings for you then, and now that you’re his wife, he doesn’t have any reason to try.”

T
he newlywed couple and their daughter traveled at a comfortable pace by carriage to Gideon’s country villa in northwest Kent. A lone horseman might take the winding roads at a greater speed, especially if he had no desire to resurrect memories of earlier times. But in traveling with his family, he heard Charlotte’s exclamations of delight as they passed orchards and lanes, smothered in blackberry brambles, that led to villages tucked into green hillside hollows.

The hum and thrum of London receded. A peace he hadn’t known in years stole over him, and he was amused to hear himself echo the warning his father had once given him.

“Remember that you shouldn’t pick any blackberries after Michaelmas Eve, Sarah. The Devil spits on them after that date to show his displeasure at being evicted from heaven.”

Sarah frowned. “I’d spit in his face if I ever see him.”

“You will do no such thing,” Charlotte said, smiling at her with fondness. “Gideon, I’ll thank you not to encourage misbehavior. Nor to engage in it if at all possible.”

It wasn’t possible, of course.

On their first night back in the country, Gideon decided he would do what he had always done—ride to the village public house and drink with a few old friends. Charlotte and Sarah had gone riding through the woods, and since it was twilight, the groom was old, and she didn’t know the paths, he decided to shadow them on a higher bridle trail behind the trees.

He could visit the pub tomorrow.

But then tomorrow came, and as he was about to leave the house, he heard laughter drifting from the drawing room. So he went to the drawing room and caught Charlotte dancing with a young fop in a towering head of false hair. Sarah was curled up watching from the window seat.

“Why is Charlotte taking lessons from a dancing master?” he asked Sarah, squeezing down beside her.

“They’re showing me how it’s done. Did you know, our father, that ‘mind your Ps and Qs’ comes from the French?”

“Fancy that,” he said, thinking that the fop had put his hands on Charlotte one time too many.

“Yes,” Sarah went on. “Ps means
pieds,
which is French for feet, and Qs come from the word for wig,
perruque
.’ In the old days, you weren’t supposed to dip your head too low when you danced or your wig would fall off.”

He raised his voice. “What can anyone teach my wife that she doesn’t know?”

“Not much, Your Grace,” the dancing master answered.
“Perhaps you can bring Lady Sarah here, and Your Grace can partner her to demonstrate good form.”

Gideon frowned. He wasn’t keen on dancing. “Do you want to dance with me, Sarah?”

“No. I’d like to dance with Mr. Pugh, but he likes dancing with my mother.”

“Yes. I see that. Get up. Give me your hand. What are we dancing?”

“A Gypsy reel,” the dancing master said, lifting his chin.

“Isn’t that a little risqué for ladies?”

“Not if it is danced with decent company,” was the lofty reply. “Your Grace, please dance with the duchess. I will take Lady Sarah.”

Gideon was in a better mood after that. He always was content when he was holding Charlotte, even though he did not give a damn about counting hops and skips. He did, however, give a damn that the dancing master kept stealing glances at her. In fact, Gideon wasted the rest of the afternoon refreshing his ballroom skills, and he didn’t know where the time flew, because it was almost dark when he remembered that he was
not
spending another day at home like a country squire.

But he
was
attending a hiring fair tomorrow with a neighbor, and when he woke up, he noticed that Charlotte must have risen earlier, because her tea tray was on the table, and Sarah wasn’t in her room either when he checked.

“They’ve gone fishing, Your Grace,” the governess informed him with a disapproving face.

“Alone?”

“No. They’ve taken the gamekeeper with them.”

“People have drowned in the lake, you know,” he said
irritably. Of course, that had been a century ago, during a vile winter storm, but that wasn’t the point. Sarah’s boat had capsized the last time she was here, and he’d had to swim out to save her. He rode to the water’s edge and, with a pair of field glasses, spotted the boat anchored in the middle of the sunlit lake.

“Oh, look,” Sarah said, tugging Charlotte’s arm. “There’s my father.”

“I thought he was going to the hiring fair.” Charlotte peered into the water, her fishing pole still. “I don’t think there are any fish in this lake.”

“I don’t, either.”

“Then why are we here?” Charlotte asked. “Fishing is not the most feminine pastime. Why don’t we give a tea party for your friends?”

“I don’t have enough friends for a tea party.”

Charlotte looked at her sadly. “Well, your father and I are here now to keep you from being lonely.”

“Oh! Oh! Look! I’ve hooked a fish!”

The gamekeeper reached for the bucket. Charlotte leaned over to watch the catch.

“Help me!” Sarah shouted, fighting the pull of her pole. “It’s a lake monster! He’s pulling me out of the rowboat!”

Charlotte gasped and rose gingerly to grab the girl. But as she stretched out her arm, she pitched forward and toppled right over the side of the rowboat into the lake.

She gasped in shock from the cold.

And as she foundered she felt the hook on Sarah’s line snag her sleeve. There wasn’t a fish on it at all.

“Help! Help!” Sarah screamed to the shore. “Duchess overboard! Help, Papa!”

The gamekeeper pulled off his boots to dive into the lake. “Stay with Lady Sarah!” Charlotte cried, releasing the hook and paddling to the other side of the boat.

“Don’t panic, Charlotte!” Gideon roared from the shore, stripping down to his trousers. “Let the water carry you! Whatever you do, do not fight me when I take hold of you.”

Gideon flung off his coat and shirt to take a running leap into the lake, and hit the water bare chested. It was cold enough to turn his private parts blue. Where was Charlotte? Had she gone under?

“Grimes—hand the oar to my wife and tell her to hang on!”

Grimes picked up the oar and threw it in the water at Charlotte. She gasped, ducking her head, and watched the oar drift away.

“That’s helpful,” Gideon muttered, his powerful strokes propelling him toward Charlotte. “I wanted you to give it to her while
you
were holding the other end. The idea was to keep her afloat, not to knock her block off. I’m coming, Charlotte!”

Sarah hung over the side of the boat, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mother. I thought you said last night that you knew how to swim.”

“I do,” Charlotte replied, dunking her head so that her long golden hair rippled out behind her like a skein of wet silk. “But I’m wearing boots and a boned corset that are making it difficult to move.”

“Please don’t drown,” the gamekeeper said, rocking
the boat as he clamped one arm around Sarah’s midriff and cast the other out to Charlotte.

“I’ve got her!” Gideon gurgled, bobbing up and down in the lake like a serpent.

Clever woman that she was, Charlotte appeared to be treading water and waiting for him. Actually, she looked as if she could swim to shore herself, but he wanted to rescue her, and perhaps he wanted to show off a little in front of his daughter, who had never had reason to view him in a flattering light before.

Sarah’s father had wrapped his coat around Charlotte’s shoulders and was carrying her to his horse. Sarah folded her arms and watched them with a frown as the prow of the rowboat bumped through the cattails that lined the shore.

“Come, Lady Sarah,” the grizzle-bearded gamekeeper said, giving her his hand. “I’ll not be responsible for another accident. You’d best run along with His Grace and tell Mrs. Stearns you’re home.”

“I am
not
running alongside them when they’re acting like that.”

“What?” he said, pulling the boat up to the small dock. “Acting like what? The duchess is fond of you; I can tell. Why are you pouting? This is the family you have wanted.”

She gave him her hand. “I know. I know. But they do not have time to play with me.”

He blinked, glancing up to watch the duke hoist his wife onto his saddled gray. “Well, then, let them be. You’ll have a little brother or sister to play with soon enough.”

* * *

Charlotte leaned against Gideon’s shoulder, determined to finish buttoning his shirt before they reached the drive. At length he caught her hand in his. “Stop touching me like that, my love, or I’ll be forced to take a detour through the woods.”

“I’m soaking wet and cold.” She huddled against his back. “And so are you. Thank you for your valiant rescue.” She didn’t point out that she had been in no danger whatsoever. “I thought you were gone for the day.”

He angled his head to look back at her. “So did I. It’s a good thing I came back when I did.”

The dark emotion in his eyes generated a heat inside her that made her forget the breeze blowing against her dress. “I thought…Well, I didn’t think I’d see this much of you once we arrived here.”

“Neither did I. But then, that is love.”

He turned to guide the gray onto another path. Charlotte let the horse’s gait jostle her against Gideon’s back. “Did you say love?” she asked, sliding her free hand around his waist.

He closed his hand over hers. “Yes. I said it. I’ll say it again. I’ll say it every day. I love you. I suspect I love you more than you love me. I know I need you more. Now please do not keep giving me cause to worry. I can’t spend the rest of my life dancing with men in wigs and jumping into lakes to prove how I feel.”

She smiled, her chin pressed to his shoulder.

Hours later, after supper, they were sitting in the great hall in front of a fire, Sarah playing with the two lithe greyhounds she had introduced to Charlotte as Romulus and Remus.

“Did your governess give them their Roman names?” Charlotte asked, kneeling on the floor between her daughter and the rambunctious dogs.

“No. I did.” Sarah clambered onto Gideon’s chair and settled in his lap. “How long will you be staying here?”

“Forever. Do you mind?”

“You always left me before for a long, long time.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Oh, Sarah.”

“I used to cry but Mrs. Stearns said I shouldn’t.”

Gideon put his head to hers and brushed his hand over her hair. “I’ll send her away for reprimanding you like that.”

“Please don’t,” Sarah whispered, reaching into his vest pocket. “She loves me and I love her.”

The governess appeared in the passageway behind them as if she had been summoned. “Come, Lady Sarah. It’s time for you to go to bed.” One of the puppies growled at her. Mrs. Stearns ignored it.

She started to make a fuss until Charlotte rose from the floor. “Give me and your father a kiss. And do what you are told.”

Gideon shooed his daughter along and told her, “Sarah, we have many days to share ahead of us. I’ll never leave you for a long time again.”

Then Charlotte and Gideon were alone. He stood up slowly. “Come, madam. It’s time for you to go to bed.”

“Give me a kiss first. And— ”

He drew her against him and kissed her in an unhurried taunt that swept her into oblivion.

“Am I still the man of your dreams?” he asked as she arched her neck and felt his hand steal slowly down her shoulder to sift through her hair.

“The dreams that I have when I’m awake or asleep?”

“Both,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “Because if you ever banish me from your dreams, I will cease to exist. I adore you, Charlotte. You are more to me than anything I dreamed or deserved.”

Charlotte let him lead her to the stairs. It didn’t matter how she had won him. The scandalmongers would believe what they would. But just in case Gideon and Charlotte’s children were curious, she would keep her diaries to explain how she and their father had fallen in love, and to prove that even the wickedest dreams had a way of coming true.

D
on’t let any rakes steal you while I’m gone.

Who would want to steal her?

She wasn’t the sort to excite that much passion, even in a rake.

Lily blinked. What had come over her? She would not drink another glass of champagne. At least not until after she ate. And she would not sneak another glance at the man whose stare had practically singed her skin.

She lifted her gaze. Her last look, she promised herself. It wouldn’t hurt. No one else would ever know. One. Final. Look.

Relieved and a little disappointed, she realized that he was no longer looking at her. She assured herself it was for the best. Heartbreak might as well have been emblazoned on his forehead. She wasn’t surprised that females made up the innermost group of guests that he’d attracted.

Still, how he managed to appear lost and affected
with lethal boredom was a skill that Lily could only admire from a guarded distance. His negligent elegance announced to the room that he accepted his influence and felt no guilt in wielding this gift as he desired.

Lily might not have recognized such inborn arrogance if she had not possessed some weaponry of her own. Nothing of his magnitude. But she adored the thrill of secret flirtations. And—