One stolen night...

...leads to unexpected wedding vows!

Part of The Sommersby Brides: widowed Lady Charlotte Gregory believes she’ll never marry again after losing her husband. Until meeting dashing Lord Andrew Pearce brings her respectable, lonely world back to vibrant life! Left alone one night, they give in to their desires only to find their secret passion leads to shock, scandal...and a sudden marriage of convenience!

The Sommersby Brides miniseries

Book 1—One Week to Wed

Look out for the next books, coming soon!

“Delightfully unexpected plot twists, with lively dialogue and witty repartee.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Unexpected Countess

“This adventure and treasure hunt romance is a charmer.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Unexpected Countess

LAURIE BENSON is an award-winning Regency romance author, whose book An Unexpected Countess was voted Harlequin’s 2017 ‘Hero of the Year’ by readers. She began her writing career as an advertising copywriter. When she isn’t at her laptop, avoiding laundry, Laurie can be found browsing antiques shops and going on long hikes with her husband and two sons. Learn more about Laurie by visiting her website at lauriebenson.net. You can also find her on Twitter and Facebook.

Also by Laurie Benson

Secret Lives of the Ton miniseries

An Unsuitable Duchess

An Uncommon Duke

An Unexpected Countess

The Sommersby Brides miniseries

One Week to Wed

And look out for the next two books

coming soon

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

One Week to Wed

Laurie Benson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07385-1

ONE WEEK TO WED

© 2018 Laurie Benson

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For Terry:

To every incredible challenge you’ve responded with unbelievable strength. If I could write your happy-ever-after, I’d leave out all the bad stuff.

Thank you to my wonderful editor Linda Fildew, my team at Mills & Boon, and my agent Courtney Miller-Callihan. Hugs to Lori, Mia, Jen, Harper, Anabelle and Michele, for everything. Thank you to my family for your love and support. And thank you to my readers. For those of you who asked for Andrew’s story after you read

An Uncommon Duke, this is for you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Author Note

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Mayfair, London—1819

There was no mistaking the inviting look in the eyes of the widow as she studied Lord Andrew Pearce across the coffin of her dead husband.

In a stealthy manoeuvre, Andrew shifted his leg and ground the heel of his boot into his brother Gabriel’s foot, determined to scuff the impeccable black leather. It would serve him right for dragging Andrew here. In true ducal fashion Gabriel exhibited no reaction, aside from the slight clench of his jaw.

It was all his brother’s fault Andrew was being subjected to this. As the eldest, Gabriel had informed his brothers it was their family’s duty to pay their respects, even though they all hated the man.

It was the thing to do. It was only proper.

And Andrew was counting the minutes until it was over.

Being this close to a dead body was hard enough, bringing back memories he would just as soon forget. But the attention from the widow of the newly deceased Twelfth Duke of Skeffington in addition to that was making this unbearable.

At nine and twenty, Elizabeth, the Duchess of Skeffington, was only two years younger than Andrew. With her thick black hair, big brown eyes and graceful figure she was considered by many to be a diamond of the first water. However, Andrew wasn’t attracted to her. Even knowing she was going to be a very wealthy widow did little to make her any more enticing.

She was a woman who appeared obsessed with rank and prestige. As the brother of a duke, he had experienced his fair share of people who were interested in him only for his family connections. And as a duchess in her own right, he assumed her prejudice against families of lower status was one of the reasons she always seemed interested in him. There were very few ducal families in Britain. Her choices were limited. However, he didn’t want a wife.

The Duchess slipped a wayward tendril of black hair over her ear and offered him a shy smile. If Gabriel noticed her attention had been fixed on Andrew since they entered the room, he gave no indication. However, Monty, on his other side, pressed his knee firmly into Andrew’s leg. At least one of his brothers was aware of his plight.

‘You have our condolences, Elizabeth,’ Gabriel said, over the murmur of voices from the other mourners in the ballroom that was darkened with black cloth around the windows.

Her attention finally shifted away from Andrew to Gabriel, and she gave his brother a polite smile. ‘Thank you for coming to pay your respects. It’s no secret you and Skeffington were on opposing sides on many issues through the years.’

‘We were. His death did come as a shock, even with his advanced age. He just addressed the House on Monday.’

Monty tilted his head and eyed the outline of the short thin body lying before them under the shroud. ‘Forgive me, but I’ve not heard what caused his demise. Was he suffering from an illness?’ Andrew’s younger brother asked.

‘He choked on a chicken bone during dinner. The footmen were not able to save him.’ It was said with such a calm demeanour, one had to wonder if she had been present to witness what must have been a ghastly event.

Andrew’s heart began to pound harder. He knew what it was like to watch someone die. Taking a step back, he looked away from the dead body in front of him and tried to push the memories out of his head. Over the years he had become adept at locking them away, but this was bringing them all back. He should have refused to come today.

As if he realised Andrew was ready to bolt from the room, Gabriel made a move to end the conversation and Andrew’s torture. ‘Well, I’m sure there are many others here who wish to pay their respects. We will not keep you any further.’

Andrew’s sense of unease at being around this much death was starting to lift. Until the Duchess stepped around the coffin and called softly to him as he turned to walk towards the door with his brothers.

He squeezed his eyes shut before turning to face her. ‘Yes, Your Grace?’

She gave him a small smile as she started to blush. ‘You may call me Elizabeth. We’ve been acquainted with one another for twelve years.’

‘But I’d never presume to be on such intimate terms with you.’ It was paramount he stated that, since he had no intention of becoming so familiar with Skeffington’s widow.

‘But there is no reason we couldn’t be now.’ There was a hopefulness in her eyes.

He should have pretended he hadn’t heard her when she called his name.

‘Have you received your invitation to the funeral?’ Thankfully she changed the subject when he refused to acknowledge her suggestion. ‘The service will be this evening at ten, in St Paul’s. Skeffington wished to hold to old traditions and wanted an evening burial.’

It was just like the man not to consider the safety of his mourners. Carriages in London were often robbed while they waited outside churches at night during funerals. Andrew was still uncertain why he had been invited to attend. Gabriel, as the Duke of Winterbourne, was fully capable of representing his family. ‘I’ve received it.’

The gloved fingers on her right hand nervously toyed with the jet beads near her collarbone. ‘I know he was not well liked by many in Society, but it would be a shame if there weren’t many to offer prayers for his soul. I hope you will be there.’

At least it wasn’t customary for the women of the ton to attend burial services. He would be safe in the church from her attention. Having someone watch him made him uncomfortable. ‘I’ll be there along with my brothers.’

She lowered her head and looked at him through her lashes. ‘Thank you for calling on me,’ she said softly. ‘I expect we will see one another soon.’

Did she have to make it sound as if he had called on her with romantic intentions? It was a wake. ‘Not too soon. It will be a year before we see one another.’ She was newly widowed. The year’s mourning period would keep her away from any entertainments he might attend.

She bit her lip. ‘Unlike Skeffington, I find I am not all that traditional.’

The walls were closing in. He was feeling like hunted prey and needed to get away from the Duchess and the dead body in the room. ‘Well, do have a pleasant day,’ he managed to choke out rather inappropriately, before making his way through the crowd of mourners and out the ballroom door.

He was so intent on escaping he almost collided with a woman dressed all in black as he rounded the corner leading to the entrance hall. She let out a soft gasp through the veil covering her face and was able to stop him by raising her gloved hand just before she slammed into his chest. A pleasant floral scent drifted towards him as the black ostrich feather, curling over the front of her black bonnet, brushed against his brow. It was a soft brush, almost a tickle.

Andrew stepped back and tipped his head in a wordless apology before they both quickly went on their way. But after he took a few steps, something made him look back and follow her hurried progress towards the ballroom. Perhaps it was the realisation that he hadn’t bothered to notice what she looked like or that she seemed preoccupied and eager to get around him. He couldn’t imagine anyone being in a rush to see a dead body.

When he stepped into the entrance hall both of his brothers were waiting for him near the large marble staircase. They resembled matching bookends with their light brown hair, similar features, and black trousers and coats. They both also held the same amused expression as they watched Andrew walk towards them.

Gabriel was fighting back a smile as he turned his attention to adjusting his gloves. ‘I see Elizabeth found a way to have a few words alone with you. We were going to leave for White’s without you, but decided to wait and see how long it took you to extricate yourself.’

Andrew let out an annoyed breath and rubbed his chin. ‘If you both hadn’t walked away when she called me, I might have avoided the encounter entirely.’

‘She called your name, not ours,’ Monty replied with a smirk. ‘Who are we to come between you and a grieving widow? Dare I ask what she wanted, or would your answer shock my youthful innocence?’

‘You are Mother’s least favourite child. She has told me so on numerous occasions,’ Andrew replied pointedly. ‘Her Grace wanted to know if I’d be attending the burial service this evening. That is all.’

‘You don’t think she plans on attending, do you?’ Monty asked, appearing aghast. ‘She did seem rather interested in you.’

As they made their way to the front door, Gabriel put on his hat. ‘She has always appeared taken with Andrew. However, what she finds appealing about him is a mystery to me. Since women in our circle do not attend funerals, I do believe he is in no danger of being cornered behind a pillar in St Paul’s tonight.’ His mouth twitched with amusement. ‘Although, that would be entertaining to witness.’

* * *

Charlotte had been hurrying towards the ballroom in Skeffington House, wishing she could have been going anywhere but there, when she nearly collided with a mountain of a man in the corridor. She didn’t even have the presence of mind to look at him and offer an apology. The brief incident left her more agitated than she already had been and her stomach started flying around like a bird in a cage. How she wished she was leaving along with him instead of heading towards the room filled with so much death...and so many people who would be expressing their condolences, even if their comments were not directed to her.

Ever since Jonathan had been killed, hearing those sympathetic words would make her queasy, reminding her of the sentiments so many people expressed when they came to call on her for months after her husband’s death, making her relive the pain of her loss over and over.

Thankfully, her stomach settled by the time she crossed the threshold of the ballroom which was set for the elaborate wake befitting the oldest Duke in Britain. At the far end of the room was a raised platform where his coffin was laid. Black curtains cascaded around the four corners of the platform from the cornice above, adorned with gilded angels. It was certainly a stately site, although she did find the angels odd knowing the temperament and uncharitable nature of the man lying under them.

Moving past small groups of mourners clustered about the room, she tried to block out the murmur of their voices. The coffin was only a few yards away, with the shrouded body of the Duke. Charlotte had not seen her husband’s body to confirm his death. Jonathan’s remains were buried in Belgium. The only proof she had were the accounts of what happened to him from his fellow officers and the few personal effects of his that were returned to her. Reaching for the black ribbon around her neck, she clasped the gold signet ring which he had worn that now hung there. The only reason she was here was because her sister needed her.

She spotted Lizzy standing to the left of the coffin, speaking to a well-dressed grey-haired gentleman. As if sensing Charlotte’s presence, her younger sister looked up and their eyes met. Lizzy carefully extracted herself from her conversation and hurried towards her. The urgency of her manner made Charlotte feel even more guilty for arriving late.

‘I’m sorry I did not arrive sooner, Lizzy. Please do not interrupt your conversation on my account. I know how people like to offer their condolences at a time like this.’

And she would prefer not to hear them.

‘It was no bother,’ Lizzy said with a careless wave of her black-gloved hand. ‘Lord Liverpool can ramble on at times. Skeffington had appointed him executor of his estate. The will stipulates all parties must be present for it to be read and there has been little success in locating his heir. Lord Liverpool was apprising me of the details. Do not look so concerned. I know I will be left in very comfortable circumstances with Skeffington’s passing, so have no fear.’

She took Charlotte by the arm to a window overlooking Green Park and wrapped her arms around her in an affectionate hug. The window sash was raised, letting in a breeze which was helping Charlotte breathe as the walls continued to close in on her.

‘It’s such a relief to have you here, Charlotte. I know you hate London, but Aunt Clara and Juliet are in Paris. They would never have arrived here in time and even if they were here, it’s you I really need by my side. Our aunt has never understood me the way you do. And, while our sister means well, Juliet is still so young.’ The three Sommersby sisters were always close, but Charlotte and Lizzy were especially dear to each other.

‘Juliet is two and twenty. She is not so young any more.’

‘But you understand what it is to be widowed.’

Charlotte searched her younger sister’s face, trying to determine how she was coping with her loss. ‘I left shortly after I received your letter, but we had terrible rain which impeded my journey. I know how difficult this can be. How are you faring?’

Her sister waved her hand as if losing her husband was of no true consequence. Which it probably wasn’t, to Lizzy. ‘It truly is a relief.’ She eyed Charlotte’s black dress and then studied her bonnet.

Silently, Charlotte began counting down the seconds before her sister voiced her opinion of her ensemble. She got to seven.

‘I like your bonnet. The ostrich feather is a nice touch. It’s rather fetching. Perhaps I’ll have one made for me.’ Lizzy wrinkled her brow. ‘That isn’t four years old, is it?’ The concern for liking something that might not be deemed the latest fashion clearly concerned her sister.

‘No, I did not have this when I went into mourning for Jonathan. I bought the bonnet some months ago and added the feather before I left.’

A sense of relief brightened Lizzy’s expression. ‘You’ve become quite skilled with trimmings. Had you married a prosperous duke as I had done, and not a third son, you would have no need to alter your bonnets or gowns. You’d simply buy new ones. What do you think of this dress? It’s from Madame Bouvier. I’m not certain about the flounces at the hem.’

‘It’s lovely, Lizzy. Perhaps you’d like to borrow my fichu? I believe that gown was designed to wear with one.’

‘Nonsense. I am in a position now to search for a husband. I see no reason to hide the assets God has given me.’

‘Your husband has just died.’

‘And?’

‘He is lying over there.’

Lizzy rolled her eyes. ‘Skeffington is dead. He can’t see me.’

‘But those in attendance can.’

‘If one is to catch a husband, one needs to bait them.’ She cast a disapproving eye at Charlotte’s fichu. ‘How I wish you would put away your widow’s weeds. I haven’t seen you out of mourning attire in years.’

None of her family and friends understood what it was like to have the man you loved ripped from you. When the letter arrived, informing her Jonathan had perished nobly during the Battle of Waterloo, the pain of losing him was more than she thought she could bear. He had been aide-de-camp to Wellington. A man in that position was not supposed to die. A man in that position should have returned from the war and settled with her into a comfortable life. Other men had returned. Why couldn’t he?

‘For the hundredth time, I will not marry unless I become destitute and I’m forced to do so. The heart isn’t capable of falling in love twice in a lifetime and there is no reason to marry if it’s not for love.’

The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could have taken them back. Charlotte had been fortunate to be allowed to marry the man she loved because it cemented an age-old alliance between their families. Lizzy had been ordered to marry a pompous old man for his title. There was no need to remind her of that.

‘You always were the sentimental one. Not everyone needs to marry for love. However, I assure you the next time my marriage banns are read in church people will not give me pitying looks. This time, I will see jealousy in their eyes.’

‘Why does it sound as if you have already set your sights on the man you’d like to marry?’

‘Perhaps I have,’ she replied with a broad smile. ‘Which reminds me. You need to go upstairs.’ She began pulling Charlotte towards the door by the elbow.

‘I assure you I am not in need of a respite. Violet is unpacking my belongings as we speak. I want to be here by your side through all of this, just as you supported me. I know how distressing this can be.’

‘Charlotte, do I look distressed?’ Lizzy tilted her head. ‘I thought not.’

‘But I haven’t even paid my respects to the Duke.’

‘I assure you, he won’t miss you. I need you to have Marie get my dress ready for this evening. And perhaps you can go to Lock and Company and purchase me a hat like the one you are wearing. Or you can let me borrow your hat. Oh, please let me borrow yours. The more I look upon it, the more I like it and there probably isn’t one exactly like that in the shop.’

‘Tonight? Where are you going tonight?’

‘I’m going to the burial service.’

Charlotte pulled her to a stop. There were rules and as the oldest Sommersby sister it often fell to her to remind Lizzy of them. ‘You can’t go,’ she whispered sternly. ‘It’s not done.’

‘I’m a duchess. I can be as eccentric as I wish.’

‘What of the new Duke? Surely he will not approve of such behaviour.’

‘He is not in London to offer any opinion on the matter. I am going to that church tonight. You can either help me with my arrangements or you can add to the pain this whole event is causing me by trying to thwart me. Either way, I will go.’

Why did Lizzy have to be so stubborn? ‘It’s too dangerous to travel with the funeral procession through the streets of London at night.’

‘I shall have the funeral furnisher arrange armed escorts for my carriage.’

‘You don’t think it will cause gossip?’

‘I am a grieving widow who wants to be with my husband to the very end.’ She opened her eyes wide and batted her lashes.

‘Lizzy, do you not believe Skeffington is dead? Do you think he will sit up and prove everyone wrong? Is that what this is about?’

‘No, of course not. I witnessed his last breath. I even poked him with my fork to be certain. The man is dead. But another man will be at the service and he is the reason I need to be there.’ She gave Charlotte a genuine, warm smile. ‘Do this for me, Sister. It isn’t that much to ask of you, is it? I need to be there.’

Three years separated them in age. They had been very close growing up. Before Charlotte married Jonathan, they had been inseparable. Lizzy raised her eyebrows and smiled again, resembling the young girl who loved to try on Charlotte’s gowns and sit on her bed to fix her hair. It was hard not to smile back.

‘Will you help me pick out a suitable gown, Charlotte? Please.’

‘Very well. I will help you with your plan to attend church this evening. But you must permit me to go along with you. I do not want you to travel alone. Now go back to do your duty as his widow and I will arrange to have a suitable dress ready for you.’

‘And your hat? You’ll let me wear your hat?’

Charlotte covered her lips to hide her smile. ‘Yes, Lizzy. I will let you wear my hat.’

Her sister kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her hand. ‘You are the best of sisters. Thank you again for coming to Town to be with me through this. I know how much you dislike leaving your village, however you shall not regret it.’

While Lizzy might have been glad she was here, Charlotte knew her calm and orderly life was about to be disrupted in unknown ways. She could feel it.

Chapter Two

Andrew saw no sense in accompanying the funeral procession to St Paul’s and helping to add to the spectacle. His brothers could do that for him. He arrived at the Cathedral after the funeral service had already begun, making his way up the aisle past prominent Members of Parliament and the ton to slip into the row his brothers were occupying not far from the altar. Monty covered a yawn as he nodded a silent greeting to him.

It wasn’t until the bishop began the eulogy that Andrew shifted his gaze and noticed a black-ostrich plume sway in the front row, across the aisle. He shifted his head and saw the back of a woman wearing a black bonnet like the one he had seen on the woman he almost ran into while leaving Skeffington’s house. This wasn’t the place for a woman.

‘What do you know of the new Duke?’ he whispered, tipping his head towards Monty.

‘You mean Skeffington’s mysterious heir? No one I know has ever heard of him.’

‘Nephew?’

‘Distant cousin.’

‘Married?’

‘I would assume he’s married or a widower.’

Could he have run into the new Duchess of Skeffington when he was leaving the wake? It might explain why she was in the front of the church now. If they lived in the country they might not know women in Town did not attend burials.

Andrew craned his neck further to try to get a glimpse of the new Duke, but his view was blocked by the rows of mourners. His attention was drawn once more to the back of the black bonnet. If only her face hadn’t been covered with a veil, he would have a better idea of what she looked like.

As if the universe had called out to her, the woman turned and scanned the rows of mourners. However, this wasn’t the woman Andrew had almost knocked over. It was Skeffington’s widow. There was no mistaking her in the dim light of the cathedral with the veil of the bonnet tucked above the brim, revealing her face.

As her eyes locked on to his with the precision of a sniper, Andrew shifted his gaze to the bishop so quickly, it was a wonder he hadn’t injured his eye sockets.

* * *

The bishop was telling them not to mourn Skeffington’s death, but celebrate the life he lived. Charlotte hadn’t known Lizzy’s husband very well. He had barely spoken to her when they were in the same room and what he had said could be considered rather dismissing. From the newspaper accounts she had read about him and from Lizzy’s letters, he appeared to have behaved that way with most people.

But regardless of what she thought of Lizzy’s husband, the bishop was still wrong. There was no celebration in death. It only left intense pain for those who loved them. When Jonathan died on the battlefield, Charlotte died along with him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lizzy turn around. Softly, Charlotte stepped on Lizzy’s slipper, drawing her sister’s attention back to the front of the church.

‘Why did you do that?’ Lizzy whispered harshly.

They bent their heads so the brims of their bonnets were touching. ‘You really should be paying attention to your husband’s eulogy.’

‘The bishop’s probably expressing the same thing he did at the house this afternoon when he offered his condolences. Honestly, how many different ways can one talk about death? He probably says the same thing at all his burial services and just adjusts the names. And he is getting paid a tidy sum to say those words.’

‘You may find comfort in what he is saying?’

‘Do I truly look as though I need comforting?’

‘Not exactly, but you could pretend.’

There was a distinct pause to Lizzy’s movements. ‘That’s it. I’ll appear the grieving widow in need of comfort.’ She dabbed under her eyes with a handkerchief.

‘You look as though you have something in your eye.’

‘I’m crying.’

‘No matter how hard you wrinkle up your face, tears will not flow.’

‘Step on my foot.’

‘Why?’

‘Just do it.’

‘I will not. I’ve already stepped on your foot.’

‘Yes, yes, but do it harder this time. It needs to hurt so much, it brings tears to my eyes.’

‘I will not help you perpetrate a lie in the house of God.’

‘It won’t be a lie if you step on my foot hard enough.’

‘I will not. Now, stop talking and pay attention,’ Charlotte whispered firmly back.

Lizzy turned around once more. And once more Charlotte stepped on her foot.

‘I said harder. How am I to cry if you can’t manage to maim me?’

‘What in the world has captured your attention at a time like this?’

‘He’s here.’

‘Who? The next Duke? If you wish to remain here, I suggest you do nothing to call attention to yourself. He might drag us both back home, which I could understand.’

‘Not him. The man I’ve wanted ever since my first Season, but Father made me marry Skeffington instead. He is the brother of the Duke of Winterbourne.’

Charlotte turned to try to see who her sister was looking at, but the men behind them blocked her view. ‘How is it you’ve never mentioned him before?’

‘I did, the night of my coming-out ball, but shortly after that Father told me I’d be marrying Skeffington. I thought I’d lost my chance to marry him, but all this time he has remained unwed. Now I can finally have him.’

Charlotte had tried to convince their mother to speak out against Lizzy’s marriage. Their mother would not hear of it. For years Charlotte had suffered with guilt that she could have done more to stop the marriage. She had been newly married herself then and Jonathan advised her not to approach her father on the issue. She had often wondered if she had, would it have made a difference. Whoever this man was, Lizzy deserved him. She deserved to fall in love with that one person who would make her life so much better just by being in it—everyone did.

They were leaving for Charlotte’s home in Cheshire in a few days, so Lizzy could begin her full mourning period away from the tempting entertainments of London. She was relieved her sister agreed that, if she remained in Town reading newspaper accounts of all the balls, routs and dinners that she was missing, she would be miserable. Now they had months to spend together again. And when Lizzy returned to Town, Charlotte was certain there would be no stopping her sister from trying to win the gentleman who stood somewhere behind them.

Chapter Three

Four months later...

Andrew stood outside Gabriel’s study and knocked on the large mahogany door. There was a time when he wouldn’t have had to wait for approval to enter, but since his brother had reconciled with his wife a little less than a year ago, Andrew had got into the habit of knocking. At the muffled sound of Gabriel’s response, he turned the handle and walked into the room.

His brother was seated at his massive desk and his attention was on a piece of paper resting on its surface, while he absently ran his fingers through his short light brown hair. Andrew sank into the well-cushioned chair across from him and held back a yawn. Gabriel barely acknowledged him since he was so engrossed in the task at hand. As the head of an organisation that protected the King and Prince Regent, as well as being a Member of Parliament, it wasn’t uncommon for Gabriel to be in the middle of something when Andrew entered his study.

After a few more minutes, Gabriel looked up and arched his brow. ‘Hell, man, you look awful.’

Andrew had ridden back to London in the early morning hours from Windsor and he hadn’t had any sleep. ‘I realise I’m not as impeccably attired as you, but I do believe awful is an exaggeration.’

‘I wasn’t referring to what you are wearing. I was referring to those bloodshot eyes you can’t seem to keep open and the shave you desperately need.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You need sleep.’

Andrew waved the suggestion away. His leather glove rubbed against the cut on his right hand, irritating it through the bandage. As he removed both gloves, Gabriel’s keen eyes focused on the cotton strip.

‘How did you get that?’

‘A knife fight at Windsor. It’s small.’

‘How will you explain that one away?’

‘I box regularly at Jackson’s. There are times I like to bare-knuckle brawl. It’s well known. No one questions my scars.’

‘You once told Nicholas ladies like men with scars. He was eager to inform me of that bit of wisdom.’

‘The ladies I associate with do.’

‘However, not the ladies my six-year-old son does. I received word Kempt is now under guard in the Tower. Excellent work bringing him in.’

‘It wasn’t easy, but it made for an interesting day.’ He raised his bandaged hand to show how interesting it had been to capture the would-be assassin of King George. Andrew tilted his head in an attempt to read the papers on Gabriel’s desk.

His brother turned the stack over.

‘What else do you have for me to do? There must be some interrogation you can use my assistance on or a lead you need me to follow.’

‘I have nothing for you.’

That wasn’t possible. ‘You have nothing or nothing for me.’

‘Nothing for you at the moment. Enjoy some time to avoid knife fights and pursue your own interests.’

‘Knife fights are an interest of mine.’

‘Then go find other ones. You’ve been working for months without stop. When was the last time you spent a significant amount of time simply going wherever the day takes you, doing whatever you want to do?’

‘I would grow bored.’

‘You might find that you don’t.’

‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’

‘I am trying to ensure you do not drop from exhaustion or get injured because you have overtaxed yourself.’

‘If this is about my hand, I—’

‘This isn’t about your hand, Andrew. Although, move your fingers so I can be sure it’s not seriously damaged under that bandage.’

Andrew shoved his hand towards Gabriel and clenched it into a fist before opening it up and wiggling his fingers. It hurt like hell, but he’d be damned if he’d let his brother know.

‘When was the last time you went and visited a friend?’ Gabriel asked, pushing his chair away from his desk.

‘I went with Hart to the races not long ago.’

‘I meant with someone removed from what we do—outside London.’

‘Why would anyone want to go outside London? There is more to do here than anywhere else in the world.’

‘There are times it’s important to disengage from our work and give your mind and your nerves time to settle. You’ll be more effective for it.’

‘I wouldn’t know what to do.’

‘Isn’t there someone you’d like to see that you haven’t because you have not had the time?’

Andrew dropped his head back and stared at the coffered ceiling in Gabriel’s study, trying to think of anyone whose company he enjoyed enough to leave London. ‘Toby Knightly and I still write to one another. Do you remember him from Cambridge?’

Gabriel nodded. ‘Did you not share a room together?’

‘We did. He’s an out and outer and has been after me to visit him in Cheshire.’

‘Then go to Cheshire.’

A sly smile lifted Andrews lips. ‘You know there has been unrest in the north.’

‘Yes, I know. But you are not going there because of the unrest. You are going there because you need rest and visiting with Toby will be enjoyable.’

‘How do you know it will be enjoyable?’

‘Hell, man, just go!’

‘You will not give me another mission until I take my Grand Tour of the English countryside?’ he asked with sarcasm dripping from his voice.

‘No, not until I am certain you are well rested.’

‘Then you are leaving me no choice.’

‘I’m not. I am relieving you of all duties here for a month.’

‘A month! That’s absurd. A week.’

There was a tick in Gabriel’s jaw. ‘A fortnight and not a day sooner. Do I make myself clear? You are to completely disengage yourself for fourteen days.’

‘This new baby you and Olivia have had has softened your brain. Very well. Since you are not giving me a choice, I shall send word to Toby. I’d prefer not to arrive unannounced at his door.’

Gabriel sat back and smiled. ‘Our mother taught you well. She’d be proud.’

‘Well, she does like me best.’

‘I’m sure that has nothing to do with your grooming habits or your fashionable attire.’

‘My grooming habits are impeccable.’

‘You need a shave and a haircut.’

Andrew ran his hand through his hair that fell a bit past his collar. ‘I like it this length. And no matter what I wear, it will never be up to snuff according to you.’

‘I should increase your wages, maybe then you’d see fit to purchase some new coats.’

‘I can afford new coats on the income I make from my investments. However, should you see fit to increase my wages, I’ll not complain.’ He glanced down at the sleeve of his brown coat. ‘I like this coat. It’s perfectly worn. You make it sound as though I run around London in doublet and hose. I see no difference in the cut of my coats compared to the cut of the ones you wear.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you would.’ A teasing smile was tugging at the corner of his brother’s mouth. ‘You might find you’d attract a different calibre of women if you didn’t consistently look as though you belong in a boxing ring.’

‘But I enjoy being in a boxing ring and I’m fine with the calibre of women I attract.’

‘Go, Andrew. Give yourself time to rest and release some of that tension.’

That tension was wound so tightly around every fibre of Andrew’s being it would never leave him. It had taken hold of him years ago, on a rainy night in Richmond when he confronted his beloved uncle who was holding a gun on Gabriel. Andrew did something that night he never thought he was capable of. He took his uncle’s life. Protecting the Crown had a way of changing a man. It had a way of forcing one to lock down emotions that made you vulnerable and allowed you to make the kinds of choices no man should ever have to make.

There was no sense in telling Gabriel that Andrew could move up north and it still would not matter. Andrew would never be without that tension that held down his emotions to enable him to be an effective and efficient operative. He would never live the life of a country gentleman like Toby. No small estate and pleasant wife were in his future. They were distractions he could not afford. He was a man who was always on a mission. To appease Gabriel he would leave, but it would change nothing.

Chapter Four

Settling into the comfortable wing-backed chair, Charlotte accepted a cup of tea from her friend Ann after their walk around the windy garden of Ann’s stately home in the Cheshire countryside.

‘Thank you again for your invitation to dine here tonight,’ Charlotte said. ‘Since Lizzy’s recent departure, the house seems unusually quiet. One would think I would be accustomed to the silence, but for some reason I’m feeling it rather acutely at the moment.’

‘I’m so glad you accepted my invitation,’ Ann replied with a smile, pouring tea into her Wedgwood teacup. ‘Since Toby invited one of his friends to stay with us, I am grateful for your companionship. Tonight, they went to dine in the village.’ She added a splash of milk to her cup. ‘You never did say why Lizzy decided to leave. I thought she would be staying longer.’

‘She had some estate matters to attend to in London.’ Charlotte was certain Lizzy’s hasty departure had more to do with searching out the Duke of Winterbourne’s brother before any other woman grabbed his attention than it did with her solicitor, but she was not about to betray her sister’s interest in the man.

Disapproval was evident on Ann’s face. ‘I know Lizzy. She’s too social a creature. Do you truly believe she will not attend any entertainments while she is there?’

That was the very concern Charlotte expressed while Lizzy was having trunk after trunk of her wardrobe brought out of Charlotte’s house and into her awaiting carriage. Lizzy had always been headstrong. Nothing was going to change that. All Charlotte could do was try to minimise the reactions people like Ann were bound to exhibit at the news. ‘It’s been four months,’ she replied, trying to sound as if that was a perfectly acceptable amount of time to wait before returning to Society.

‘Four months is not a year. She should be in mourning for a year.’

‘I’m aware of that. However, you can be as unconventional as you wish when you are a duchess.’

‘I suppose that is one advantage she had being married to him.’ Ann took a sip of tea and stared off into the distance, as if she were considering what it must have been like to be married to such an old man.

‘Lizzy has assured me she will just be attending the theatre and going to dinner parties. She certainly will not be marrying until a year has passed.’

The last statement was said more to appease Ann than because Charlotte actually believed it. If the Duke of Winterbourne’s brother asked for her hand the day she arrived back in London, she was certain Lizzy would accept, regardless of how close it was to Skeffington’s death. If they did get married, Charlotte would finally learn what the man’s name was. It was just like Lizzy to identify the man by the most prestigious thing about him and not by his name.

‘Everyone always said you three Sommersby sisters were all so different from one another.’

Charlotte shrugged. ‘Lizzy is eager to move forward with her life.’

‘She isn’t the only one who should move forward with her life.’ Ann arched her brow and a teasing smile played on her lips. ‘Do not roll your eyes. I am simply stating it is time for you to put the past behind you and look towards your future, as well. You are a beautiful, caring woman. Any man would be fortunate to have you as his wife.’ She took Charlotte’s hand in hers. ‘We all know you loved Jonathan. It’s a tragedy he never made it back from the war, but you have many years ahead of you to find love again.’

Why was it still necessary to defend her love for Jonathan to the people who professed to care about her? No one fell in love twice in a lifetime. ‘That part of my life is over. I am fortunate I do not need to marry again. I do not need excess extravagances like my sister does. I have simpler tastes.’

‘I wasn’t speaking of your financial situation and you know that. Although, if you were to find a wealthy man, it would not be a hardship.’ Ann gave a low chuckle.

They had discussed this before. Nothing would change. ‘How long will Toby’s friend be visiting? I wish to know how many days of excuses I will need to prepare myself with, should you need more company for dinner.’

Amusement sparkled in Ann’s blue eyes. ‘He will be staying with us for a fortnight. You certainly cannot find excuses for all of those days.’

‘I pray I will be fortunate and the gentlemen will discover they’d much rather dine at home each night and you will not be in need of companionship.’

‘I still could invite you to dine with us.’

‘And I can then freely decline, knowing you are not sitting all alone with a leg of mutton.’

‘It has been rather nice seeing Toby’s joy in being with his old friend.’

‘Have I met the gentleman before?’

Ann shook her head. ‘No. The last time Toby saw him was about six years ago. His name is Lord Andrew Pearce. They attended Cambridge together.’ Her eyes widened and she leaned forward. ‘I looked for him in Debrett’s.’

‘Please, I beg you, do not tell me of his lineage. I’ve spent the last four months with Lizzy. I’m convinced she has memorised the contents of that book and freely refers to the people she associates with solely by their most prestigious familial connection. I’ve had enough of titles to last a lifetime.’

Ann settled back in her chair with a laugh. ‘Very well. I’m sure you have.’

‘Where does Toby’s friend live? Six years is a long time not to see one another.’

‘London. Toby has visited him there on a few occasions, however Lord Andrew hasn’t had an opportunity to travel this way. I met him for the first time when he arrived this morning. They spent most of the afternoon shooting and this evening they went into the village for dinner. Toby was so eager to spend time with him, I didn’t have the heart to tell him they were being rude by leaving me home to dine by myself.’

‘What is your impression of Lord Andrew so far?’

‘I confess he is not what I expected. I assumed him to be a rather scholarly type. One who had his nose in books the way Toby does.’

‘And?’

‘And, he appears to be the type of man one finds in the village on race days or, I imagine, in a boxing ring at the local fair.’

Just as Charlotte was about to reply, the sound of Toby’s voice drifted in through the open doorway, followed by a deep rumbling sound that must have been the muffled reply of his friend. Intrigued by the image Ann had painted of Lord Andrew, Charlotte stared at the open doorway to catch a glimpse of him.

Toby came into view first and smiled when he spotted them. He looked neat and tidy with his blond hair cut very short and his narrow frame encased in brown breeches and a cinnamon-coloured wool coat. Then she caught sight of his friend—and her breath caught in her throat. She actually felt it!

He was an imposing-looking man—at least five inches taller than Toby’s average height. The cut of his blue coat showed off an impressive pair of broad shoulders and the definition of well-shaped arms. His light brown wavy hair grazed his collar and was a bit longer than was considered respectable, but it suited him and appeared neatly trimmed. His square jaw and the angles to his face would make it very easy to render his image in stone. The flicker of candlelight bounced off the gold buttons on his coat, drawing her attention back to his frame and her gaze dropped to his muscular thighs which were visible through his black breeches, tucked into a pair of topped boots. This was a man who enjoyed sport or rode extensively.

It wasn’t until Ann tapped the side of her slipper with her foot that Charlotte realised she must have been staring at him.

‘Charlotte,’ Toby called out. ‘How good to see you.’ It appeared the men were heading to another area of the house but her friend, always the perfect gentleman, walked into the room to greet her.

It was taking considerable effort on Charlotte’s part to keep her eyes fixed on Toby, which was absurd. The man next to him should not have captured her attention in such a way, but he possessed such an ease of movement, like one who was comfortable in his skin, that it was impossible not to sneak one last glance at him.

Toby gave her a friendly smile. ‘I’m so glad you were able to join Ann tonight.’

‘It was lovely to receive her note.’

‘May I introduce my friend?’ he asked, gesturing to the man beside him. ‘Lady Charlotte Gregory, may I present Lord Andrew Pearce. Lord Andrew this is Lady Charlotte, a childhood friend of Ann’s. Lord Andrew and I are old college chums from Cambridge.’

Lord Andrew took a step forward and gave a respectful bow. Candlelight played through his silky hair. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam.’

The deep pitch of his voice rumbled through her body. There was no warmth in his eyes or expression, just a keen watchfulness, as if he was studying her, before he turned to Ann and offered another respectful bow.

‘I did not expect the two of you home this early,’ Ann said, looking pleased with the unexpected encounter. ‘I imagine, Lord Andrew, there is little to entertain a man late at night in this part of the country. It must be rather dull, compared to what you’re accustomed to.’ She turned to Charlotte. ‘Lord Andrew is from London,’ she informed her yet again before turning back to him. ‘Lady Charlotte has a sister who lives in London.’ There was a helpfulness to her tone and her eyebrows rose as if she fully expected his attention to shift to Charlotte.

Dear God, was Ann trying to find her a husband? Is that why she had invited her here?

His eyes skirted briefly to Charlotte before he addressed Ann’s question. ‘While I am partial to London, you do have some well-run establishments here that serve fine food and good ale. That is all a man truly needs.’

Thank heavens, he did not feel obliged to follow Ann’s direction and converse with her. If Charlotte could think of a polite way to excuse herself, she would leave immediately.

‘Would you care to join us for tea?’ Ann raised her white cup with pink rosebuds. ‘A good cup of tea and a seat by the fire are lovely on such a windy night as this.’

The men looked at one another. Whatever silent communication passed between them seemed to indicate Lord Andrew did not object to curtailing their plans to sit with them for a bit. The four wingback chairs made a cosy, inviting group around the hearth, but before the men where close enough to choose a seat, Ann had to open her mouth again.

‘You may sit there, Lord Andrew,’ she said, gesturing to the chair beside Charlotte. ‘And you may sit by me, Toby.’ She gave her husband a beaming smile, patting the cushion of the chair beside her.

Charlotte caught the disapproving purse of Toby’s lips. Why had she never noticed Ann’s lack of subtlety before?

‘You never did say why you returned so early from the village,’ Ann continued.

‘Word was spreading throughout the inn that the roads were getting rather treacherous,’ Toby replied, watching Ann retrieve two teacups and saucers from the tea stand beside her.

‘Treacherous? But we had been walking in the garden a short while ago. There was nothing to indicate we should be concerned for the quality of the roads.’

‘A storm is coming down from the north. After hearing of it while we were dining, I had no interest in having one of our horses injured or being forced to turn back because a tree had fallen and blocked the road, so we ended our dinner early.’

‘Did you go to the Swan and Swallow?’ Charlotte asked, finding an urge to draw Lord Andrew into the conversation, which had nothing at all to do with the sound of his voice.

But now that his attention was back on her, she once again found it unsettling.

‘We did,’ his deep voice rumbled. ‘Are you from the area, Lady Charlotte?’

‘I was raised in Warwick, but now reside here, near the Knightlys. The Swan and Swallow is a fine choice for a man looking for a bit of excitement, more so than the White Hart.’

She felt the stares of Ann and Toby more than saw them, since her attention was fixed on Lord Andrew.

He shifted his body slightly, as if he was studying her just as much as she was studying him. ‘And I appear to be a man looking for excitement? I assure you, I came to the country seeking pleasant conversations with my old friend and bucolic pastures for riding. Excitement is the furthest thing from my mind.’

‘Then you will be happy you have chosen our sleepy corner of the world. You won’t find much to excite you here.’

‘Except on a night like this.’ His gaze dipped momentarily to her lips, then travelled lower before his eyes locked with hers.

Could he possibly feel what she was feeling, too? Just the sight of him and his voice was making her insides flutter. She didn’t like the sensation. It was unsettling to say the least. She tried to look away, but she noticed a small birthmark just under his right eye. It was just a small mark, but it was enough to keep her attention on his hazel eyes, framed with thick dark lashes.

‘And what excites you this evening?’ she said in a breath, not able to completely gather her voice.

There was a distinct pause while he seemed to taste his own lips. Was he a man who preferred ale or wine with his dinner? Were there remnants of either on his lips?

‘The weather is proving enough excitement,’ he drawled, leaning back in his chair and startling her out of her musings. ‘With tales of carriage accidents, your village has been full of harrowing stories.’

She blinked a few times, recalling the thread of their conversation. Of course, he meant the weather and not being close to her! What a foolish woman she was to assume he was referring to the way he felt meeting her. She had never flirted with a man in her life. She and Jonathan grew up together in a comfortable friendship. They had never flirted with one another.

Would she even know if a man was flirting with her? Apparently not, since she thought Lord Andrew had been—and she had had the unnatural desire to flirt back!

Charlotte took a sip of tea so she wouldn’t open her mouth again and make a cake of herself. Thank heavens no one else in the room had any inclination of what she had mistakenly assumed. She needed to leave before she started to blush.

* * *

Andrew rubbed the back of his neck. What possessed him to utter a flirtatious comment to the woman beside him? He never flirted with respectable women and didn’t recall drinking that much ale with dinner.

It was obvious from the lavender of Lady Charlotte’s gown she was in mourning, which made flirting with her completely beyond the pale. And to make the situation even worse, he would guess it was her husband who had passed away based on the gold signet ring she wore around her neck...a very graceful, long neck which was accentuated by the gauzy fichu tucked in the neckline of her silk gown, obscuring any view of what appeared to be enticing cleavage. A few wisps of her wavy black hair had come loose from her upswept coiffure and contrasted sharply against the white fichu. But it was her lips that continued to draw his attention. They were full and rosy. And when she spoke, he was imagining her biting down on those pillowy lips in the throes of passion.

Mrs Knightly cleared her throat and held out a teacup to him. How long she had been sitting like that, he’d rather not contemplate. ‘The roads are that treacherous?’

‘Quite,’ Toby confirmed, his attention on the tea his wife was fixing for him.

‘Then Charlotte must stay the night,’ Mrs Knightly stated, pouring milk into his cup.

The woman beside Andrew let out the faintest gasp, which stirred his blood.

‘Certainly, they cannot be so bad. And I have not brought anything with me. How can I possibly stay?’

Mrs Knightly waved her hand dismissively after handing Toby his tea. ‘We are practically the same size. I’m certain I will find things to fit you. If the roads are as bad as they say, it’s safer for you to remain here tonight.’

It was apparent Lady Charlotte had no interest in spending the night, and who could blame her after the blunder he had just made. What recently widowed woman in her right mind would want to be near a man who flirted with her?

Lady Charlotte looked to Toby for help. ‘Please inform your wife the roads are not that bad,’ she practically pleaded, raising her brows high above her green eyes for emphasis.

Much to her obvious displeasure, Toby was no help. ‘But you will be heading straight into the storm on your way home. Ann is right. The roads are becoming hazardous with the mud and trees are at risk of coming down. It took us nearly an hour to travel here from the village. You should stay, Charlotte. It is much safer for you, your driver and your horses.’

Not once had she looked at him since their awkward exchange. Could Toby not see that she would rather go out into the stormy night than remain in the same house with Andrew?

‘There,’ Mrs Knightly stated, appearing rather pleased, ‘it’s settled. You will stay the night.’

Lady Charlotte placed her teacup on the table to her left, beside the hearth. ‘It’s not settled. For it to be settled, I need to agree.’

Mrs Knightly took a leisurely sip of her tea. ‘Surely you do not want to risk injury. Don’t you agree, Lord Andrew? Isn’t it safer for Lady Charlotte to remain here until morning?’

Why did she have to drag him into this? He looked at Lady Charlotte, who was blushing while staring wide-eyed at Mrs Knightly. He was such a dolt when it came to respectable women. He couldn’t help himself from wanting to spend the evening between the thighs of the enticing widow beside him. Those lips of hers were calling to him every time she spoke, stirring certain parts of his body.

‘I said wouldn’t you agree, Lord Andrew?’ Mrs Knightly reiterated because, apparently, she thought he hadn’t heard her the first time.

‘Yes, it would be best if you stayed the night.’

In my bed, where I’m certain I can incite more of those gasps.

He cleared his throat. ‘As much as I’m sure it’s an inconvenience, the conditions were deteriorating by the time we arrived here. They probably have only got worse.’

As if she didn’t believe any of them or didn’t hear the rain pelting the windowpanes, Charlotte went to the window. It gave him an excellent opportunity to admire her shapely form as she walked across the room. He shouldn’t be looking at her. She was a woman in mourning. She was not the kind of woman he should notice in any way. She should be like wallpaper; you’re aware it’s there, but you couldn’t describe it five minutes after you left the room.

To shake himself out of staring, and before she turned and noticed, he looked towards the fire and caught the amused expression of Mrs Knightly.

Taking a drink of tea, Andrew tried to think of an inconspicuous way to let Toby know they should leave the ladies. He had no wish to make Lady Charlotte uncomfortable. Being repulsed by an attractive woman was not something he strived for.

‘In the moonlight, you can see how muddy the ground has become,’ Lady Charlotte said on a sigh, turning away from the window. She trudged back to her stuffed chair and lowered herself on to the cushion with a defeated expression.

‘I promise you will not have to stay here for days. The morning sun will dry out the roads and you will be able to leave by midday,’ Mrs Knightly replied reassuringly.

Lady Charlotte reached for her tea. ‘I hope that’s true.’ Her gaze briefly met Andrew’s before it skirted to Toby’s wife. ‘Very well, but I refuse to be more of an imposition than that. I will leave as soon as the conditions improve.’

‘You are certainly no imposition,’ Mrs Knightly said with a genuinely warm smile. ‘We adore having you here.’

Lady Charlotte smiled back at her friend and then glanced once more at him before she took a long sip of her tea. A soft pink flush edged its way up her neck. It was impossible for Andrew not to picture the rest of her body flush with that rosy glow after an enthusiastic encounter in the sheets...or in a carriage...or...

No wonder the woman was eager to leave. She probably knew what he’d been thinking.

As if watching a performance at the theatre, Mrs Knightly let her attention float between Andrew and the woman beside him. The auburn-haired wife of his friend was not very subtle. He was certain Lady Charlotte had not missed her friend’s attention.

He looked over at Toby and caught his eye, curious to see if his friend was as eager as his wife to promote a match.

‘Lord Andrew and I were on our way to the billiard room,’ Toby offered to no one in particular. ‘We would hate to impose on your conversation any further, ladies. I’m sure we interrupted some bit of town gossip.’

‘But—’

Toby arched a brow, and Mrs Knightly did not continue. At least he had a friend in Toby Knightly.

While he found Lady Charlotte strikingly attractive, he would not pursue her. She was a widow in mourning, not the kind of woman open for a dalliance. Even more importantly, once she was out of mourning a respectable woman like Lady Charlotte would be looking to marry again. With the dangerous life he led, he would not take a wife. And no woman would want to be attached to a man who was capable of doing the things he had done in his life.

Yet he did know he would be thinking about her and those enticing lips when he lay in bed later that night. Now, he would pass the remainder of his evening in the pleasant company of his friend, enjoying a competitive game of billiards and drinking what he hoped to be fine brandy.

‘Lord Andrew, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ Lady Charlotte said with what appeared to be an apologetic smile.

Andrew stood and placed his teacup on the table before politely tipping his head to her. ‘The pleasure was all mine. If I do not see you before you take your leave tomorrow, I wish you a safe journey home.’

‘Thank you, and you as well.’

Strolling out of the room with his friend, he wondered if she was an early riser.

Chapter Five

Charlotte adjusted the blue cashmere shawl Ann had let her borrow the night before as she followed her friends’ footman to the breakfast room. Before she even reached the doorway the scent of coffee and bacon drifted on the air. It smelled delicious. At least she would not go home hungry.

There were no sounds coming from the open doorway. Apparently, she was the first one awake and ready to start the day. Dining alone and in silence was nothing new. She had been doing it for years and, considering she was forced to wear this jonquil gown that Ann had loaned her, she really did prefer it that way. No matter what Ann said, Charlotte knew it wasn’t possible for her not to have any grey or lavender gowns in the house. Every woman she knew kept mourning clothes on hand for when she needed them.

The footman stopped before the open doorway and stepped to the side so she could enter the room. But when she crossed the threshold her body froze at the sight of Lord Andrew, sitting at the oval table reading the newspaper placed beside his plate of food. Her feet refused to move while she stared at him.

It was early—much too early for a man from Town to be awake. Yet there he was with his head down and his broad shoulders defined by a bottle-green-coloured coat. His head turned slightly as he continued to read, without any indication that he knew she was watching him. She took advantage of his occupied state to study him further and noticed the slightly crooked slope of his nose. It appeared he wasn’t even aware his fingers were flicking the upper-right corner of the paper as he read.

A flurry of butterflies circled inside her stomach. She took a steadying breath and forced her legs to move, stepping further into the room. The movement must have caught his attention because he looked up, locking his eyes with hers.

It was impossible to determine if he found her unexpected presence an annoyance, since his expression was unreadable. Regardless of his feelings on the matter, he stood politely and remained that way until she took the seat opposite his.

‘Good morning,’ he said, sitting down. The deep pitch of his voice settled somewhere near her stomach, sending those butterflies into a frenzy and ensuring she would not be able to eat a thing.

‘Good morning,’ she replied in return, relieved her voice gave away nothing about the physical effects his presence was having on her. He was just a man. Why was he muddling her senses? His eyes were on her as she searched the room for a footman and realised they were completely alone. This was highly irregular—and highly inappropriate. She turned back to the doorway and noticed the footman had closed the door behind her after she had entered.

‘That pot of tea was brought in a few minutes ago,’ he said, motioning with his fork to the porcelain pot to the left of her place setting.

She took note of the coffee pot beside him and knew Ann preferred chocolate to tea in the morning. Someone had been notified Charlotte was on her way downstairs. When she looked back at him, their eyes met and she really wished he would go back to reading his paper and ignore her. It had been years since she had been alone in a room with a man, and her stomach did an odd flip. She eyed the bacon and toast on his plate. He had selected crispy pieces of meat, which were her favourites.

‘I can recommend the bacon, if you like it rather well done.’

Her stomach still hadn’t settled down, and she gave him a polite smile. ‘Thank you, but I find I’m not hungry this morning.’

His brows rose just a fraction while he nodded. They stared at one another for a few moments longer before they both looked away. He busied himself with cutting into his delicious-looking breakfast, and she poured her tea. As she added a splash of milk, Lord Andrew slid the sugar bowl towards her.

‘Thank you, but I prefer my tea without.’ Charlotte had learned to economise over the years to ensure she would not have to marry again. She no longer had the taste for sweet tea.

‘You have my condolences on your husband’s passing, Lady Charlotte. I was going to express them last night, but hadn’t the opportunity. I assume this occurred recently.’

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Four years ago.’

There was a slight lift to his eyebrows. She knew most people who met her believed her to be newly widowed due to the half-mourning clothes she chose to wear. It was safer as a widow to be around men dressed in those colours. Unfortunately, she discovered there were certain men who believed a widow out of mourning was a woman who was ripe for seduction. The unwanted advances of Lord Aldrich the week she came out of mourning were enough to make her return to the safety of black, lavender and grey.

The ticking of the mantel clock, the wind rattling the window panes and the occasional popping of the logs in the hearth broke the silence that stretched between them.

Why had she not taken breakfast in her room? She might still have an appetite if she had. Now she was sitting alone with him, drinking tea and watching him eat. Occasionally he would glance at the door as if he, too, was expecting a footman to enter and confer respectability on their encounter. At times her gaze would follow his, mentally willing the closed door to open.

What if he was not attempting to strike up a conversation with her because he thought she was looking for a husband and had set her sights on him? Perhaps Lord Andrew thought she had arranged this with Ann! Where was Ann? Although it was too early for a Town gentleman such as Lord Andrew to be awake, it was not for country folk like Ann and Toby. She closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. Why was Ann torturing her like this?

‘Are you well?’ he asked, drawing her attention away from what she planned to say to her friend the next time they were alone.

‘Forgive me, yes, I am.’ She lowered her hand and played with the napkin on her lap. ‘I confess, I did believe our friends would be having breakfast here at this hour. Had I known you were dining here by yourself, I would have left you to your peaceful solitude to enjoy your meal and read your paper without having to make polite discourse with someone you do not know.’

After spreading jam on his toast, he lowered his knife. ‘I see.’

She couldn’t tell if he believed her. She couldn’t tell if he thought her to be a widow in search of her next husband. Being trapped alone at breakfast with her would make it a logical conclusion. ‘I did not arrive here yesterday evening with a design to meet you. I did not wish to stay last night at all, but was forced to do so by the unfortunate weather and our rather insistent friends. And I did not come down for breakfast with the intention of being alone with you in this room in this compromising situation. It was all done by chance.’

He tilted his head while studying her, but remained silent. He didn’t believe her.

‘I am not a widow with a plan to trap you into marriage. If I were, I would have brought my own clothes last night. Instead, I’m forced to wear this gown that, while lovely, is yellow and I never wear yellow. At least I haven’t worn yellow since my husband passed. I can assure you, I would not be sitting across from you shining brighter than the midday sun if my plan was to entice you into marriage.’

She was rambling. Dear God, she wasn’t even certain what she had just said. Something about yellow...possibly? Her brain was not working with her mouth. It very well could be from lack of food. That bacon smelled so good, but her stomach was now clenched tight, as if it was trying to tell her that if she ate one bite, she would be seeing it again shortly.

Charlotte shifted her attention from the bacon on his plate to his unreadable expression. She really wished he would say something—anything. Heat was spreading up her neck. She should just excuse herself and return to her room. Or just leave the building entirely—and perhaps the town and county. She rubbed her brow again.

When she glanced over at him, she caught something that looked like amusement in his eyes as he chewed his toast. The shine from the sugar of the jam highlighted his top lip before he licked it off.

Involuntarily, she swallowed. She needed to get away. His presence was having an unsettling effect on her. She stood suddenly, startling Lord Andrew and bringing him to his feet.

‘I will leave you,’ she said, and before he could reply she turned and walked to the door. When she opened it, she was surprised to find a footman standing outside as if guarding the door.

‘Please see that my carriage is brought around in half an hour. I’ll leave a note for Mr and Mrs Knightly. I assume they are still abed.’

‘I believe so, my lady. I’ll see to it directly.’

‘Wait,’ Lord Andrew called out, holding up his hand and walking towards the doorway with his gaze fixed on Charlotte. ‘You cannot leave. It has started to rain again.’

Her head snapped to the window and her eyes widened at the sight of raindrops sliding down the glass panes. She looked at him and had the ridiculous urge to reassure him that she had nothing to do with the rain.

‘My lady?’ The footman’s voice broke the spell from where he stood beside them. ‘What would you have me do?’

‘Lady Charlotte, the roads have not dried out and we don’t know if they are even passable. I think you are forced to remain a bit longer and, since our hosts are nowhere to be found this morning, that leaves it to me to convince you of the sensible course of action.’

That was the longest thing he had ever said to her. ‘Why do you...?’

‘I would not be able to live with myself if any harm came to you because you fled to prove you have no desire to be in my presence.’

‘I’m not trying to prove anything.’

‘Then you are simply willing to risk injury to get away from me.’

‘Yes. No. I mean...’

His eyebrows flew up and he appeared amused rather than insulted. She really needed to stop talking. She was always completely composed. What was wrong with her? Maybe she was coming down with some unknown illness? That had to be it. She rubbed her brow again to casually see if she had a fever. Thankfully, she didn’t appear overly warm.

She motioned with her head for him to follow her as she walked away from the footman back into the breakfast room. When they were at a far enough distance, she stopped and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I truly am not a widow in search of a husband. I will not be marrying again. I am comfortable in my situation and regardless of what our friends, or rather my friend, might believe, being in my presence will not endanger your bachelorhood.’

He rubbed his lips together and crossed his arms. ‘In the event of your previous statements being unclear, you’re telling me you haven’t arranged to sneak into my bedchamber while I am here and force us into a compromising situation?’

The nerve of the man! ‘Of course not!’ she whispered back sharply. ‘I am not that kind of widow, my lord.’

There was a quirk to his lips, and she realised he had been teasing her. She couldn’t help but smile.

He leaned forward again. ‘Thank you for reassuring me you have not taken part in hatching a plan to trap me into marriage.’

‘I assure you, Lord Andrew, I have no desire to marry you or any other man. Or take part in any type of scandalous activity.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it. We are of a like mind. Our firm understanding of the situation makes this a more relaxing experience for both of us.’ For the first time he smiled, making him appear quite handsome. His eyes held hers once more before he turned to the footman, who Charlotte had forgotten all about. ‘Her ladyship will not be needing her carriage. She will be remaining at Knightly Hall a while longer until the weather improves.’

‘Very good, my lord,’ the footman replied with a tip of his head. And before either could protest, the man took a few steps back and closed the door on them, once more leaving them alone.

‘I do believe your friend has given her staff specific instructions this morning that we are not to be disturbed.’

‘I do believe you might be correct in your assumption. I am truly sorry.’

Stretching out his arm, he motioned for them to return to the table. ‘It will not be the first time I have been a target because of my bachelor status.’

‘There are those who might see our presence in this room together as rather scandalous,’ she replied, taking her seat.

He paused before sitting down. ‘Do you believe your friend will make it known in the village we spent time alone like this?’

‘Heavens, no.’

The brief sense of panic that flashed in his eyes cleared and he sat down. ‘That’s reassuring to hear, because if there were to be a scandal about me, I would hope it would be a bit more exciting than just taking breakfast alone with you.’ Lord Andrew’s gaze dropped to her mouth.

His teasing made her smile. ‘Are you referring to other closed-door escapades?’

‘Well, considering the conditions outside, I suppose one would be forced to remain inside behind closed doors...unless one was eager to get wet...outside.’ There was a wicked glint in his eye and a slight curve to his mouth. He arched his brow, silently challenging her to respond. There was no lecherous leer to his lips—no intimidation with the posture of his impressive form. He appeared to be a man who enjoyed playful conversation.

‘I’ve found I prefer a bit of solitude behind closed doors.’

‘Because you simply haven’t found the right company, my lady,’ he said with a knowing smile, making her grin.

‘And do you find many people whose company you enjoy, my lord?’

‘Surprisingly, not many. I am rather discerning, if you must know. And I much prefer the company of a single companion to many.’ His gaze seemed to penetrate her. ‘There is something about devoting your complete attention to one person that I find utterly satisfying.’

Charlotte had not thought about having sex in years. That part of her life was over...and yet suddenly she was imagining what this man’s touch would feel like and what it would be like to be the focus of his attentive ministrations. ‘Surely your attention wavers a bit.’

Slowly, he shook his head, all the while never breaking their gaze. ‘If we are playing in hypotheticals and you are the company I am with, I can assure you that you would have my complete undivided attention. And I would be most eager to engage in any activity of your choosing. Especially if it did involve getting wet.’

It was becoming difficult to take a deep breath. She must have tied her stays too tight this morning. She should end this conversation now. It was beyond improper and she had had no experience in discourse such as this even while she had been married. But his playful safe smile drew her back. ‘What a gallant companion you would be,’ she replied, ‘but I have no wish to cause you any hardship against your will.’

His lips twitched with amusement. ‘I would gladly suffer through any hardship for you, my lady. I believe the experience would be most fulfilling.’

The imagine of him filling her made her intimate places tingle. This man was the devil—but she didn’t want it to end. She glanced out of the window and gave a dramatic sigh. ‘I imagine getting wet outside would be such an inconvenience...hypothetically speaking.’

‘If the gardener was present, I would agree.’

She let out a low laugh and pressed her fingertips to her lips to hold in the rest. The corners of his eyes creased as he took a sip from his cup and turned to the window. It was raining harder now, obscuring the view of the gardens.

A flush of heat rose up her neck and she stared down at her empty cup.

‘Do not fear I will try to coax you out into the rain, Lady Charlotte. I know your comments were made in jest.’

Did that mean he didn’t want to get her wet outside? Why did that notion leave her feeling dispirited? She had never considered having sex outside her bedchamber—at least not before he mentioned it. And if people did have sex outside, where would they have it? Were people really so inclined...not that she was...or ever would be...or would ever be in a position to engage in such an activity...but still, where would one do something like that? She hadn’t thought about sex in years. Now suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

‘Are you certain you are not hungry?’ he asked, cutting into his bacon, apparently unaffected by their conversation. ‘It really is quite good.’

She leaned towards his plate, surveying the crispy pieces. She needed to focus on food, not sex. ‘Were they all that well done or just those you have graciously taken?’

He studied the piece on his fork. ‘I’d say half were like this.’

It really did smell so good and smoky, and her stomach had settled down. Now it felt as if it would rumble with hunger any minute.

Which it did, to her mortification.

‘Are you one of those women who survives on toast and tea? I assure you a hardier breakfast will do you no harm.’

He didn’t have to convince her of that. She enjoyed starting the day with something rather robust. She stood and walked to the sideboard. The smoky aroma was so tempting. She selected the crispiest pieces from the china platter along with two slices of fluffy bread and went back to the table.

Lord Andrew had been skimming the paper next to him, but when she sat down he examined her plate with a smile. ‘That’s much better. I honestly do not know how some women sustain themselves on so little food.’

‘I enjoy the taste of food too much to survive on toast and tea, as you so aptly phrased it. You may go back to reading the paper. I will not consider it discourteous, although with the weather as it is, I assume that is not today’s edition.’

‘It isn’t, but I did ask to see any papers that were about. I thought it would give me a glimpse of what has been happening here.’

Charlotte cut into the meat and her mouth began to water. ‘I’ve read the London papers on occasion. I doubt you will find anything of interest to you in those editions.’

‘How can you be certain? Copies of the Observer are circulated in London and I’ve read about the unrest due to Parliamentary repression.’

‘Are you a Member of Parliament, Lord Andrew?’

‘No, I am a mere second son.’

She put her fork down and wiped her lips. He bore no military title. He must be one of the wastrels who spent their days at the gaming clubs and lived off their family’s money, while men like her husband gave their lives to ensure he was able to live his life under British rule. ‘I would think a man with your title coming from London would have no interest in what happens up here. Unless your interest is purely because you are staying here.’

‘I should remind you, Lady Charlotte, although we shared an amusing conversation, you do not know me.’

‘This is true. I do not. But famine and unemployment do not seem to be an interesting topic for a privileged bachelor from London.’

She was being rude. She knew it, but was unable to stop. Perhaps her testy emotions with him had something to do with the feelings of desire he was stirring inside her—feelings she needed to forget. To him it was all a game. Meanwhile for Charlotte it was... She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but there was no denying she didn’t like him as much now as she had before. It was easier for her to deal with him if she painted him in a poor light.

‘And how do you know these things do not interest me?’ he asked while wrinkling his forehead.

Jonathan’s brothers had never expressed interest in those outside their social circle and the London bachelors Lizzy wrote to her about were only interested in game and drink. ‘You yourself said last night that you came here seeking pleasant conversation with your friend and bucolic pastures for riding. The state of the people who have inhabited this area for generations did not draw you here.’

‘Like it did Mr Hunt.’

Her spine stiffened. ‘Mr Hunt, and men who write for that paper, are champions for a people who could use one. Mr Hunt has done nothing wrong.’

‘His speeches on Parliamentary reform have instigated riots.’

‘That is not true. He believes if enough of us speak our minds, then change can happen without violence. Violent actions are not the answer to the problems faced by people who live in this area.’

‘One could assume with your title, my lady, you would not have an interest in the plight of the common man.’

‘I am a widow, Lord Andrew. Famine and financial hardship can appear at my door as well as at the merchants, farmers and factory workers here. What happens to my neighbour down the lane could easily befall me.’

‘You could marry again.’

‘But I won’t. We need equal and proper representation in Parliament. Something we do not have. We need people who will champion our interests there. Do not condemn those who are fighting for their right to feed and clothe their families.’

‘I have not spoken of condemning them.’

‘But you have strong opinions of Mr Hunt. I saw it in your eyes.’ Charlotte had no use for entitled self-centred gentlemen like Lord Andrew. It was probably best she had found out about his true nature. He had her recalling the activities of the marriage bed—activities that were best left forgotten. She hadn’t lied to him. She would not marry again and the less tempted she was to touch the man across from her, the better off she would be.

Chapter Six

Andrew sat back in his chair and watched Lady Charlotte cut into the bacon that had tasted so good a few minutes before. Now, he had no stomach for it. It appeared he’d lost his opportunity to ask her about the unrest in the area since she did not look eager to enter into a genial discussion with him again.

He didn’t like the picture she had drawn of him in the brief time they had spoken. He had been enjoying her company immensely before their discussion took a decidedly serious turn. He tried to recall how that happened. There was no denying she had also felt that pull between them. She might deny wanting to go out in the rain and explore each other’s bodies, but he knew she had been considering it. Now, if he wasn’t mistaken, she thought him an entitled prig.

Instead of turning back to read the papers, he watched her top her toast with strawberry jam. When she delicately licked some of the jam from her finger, Andrew’s thoughts drifted to their conversation about the rain...and getting her wet.

He wasn’t a man to openly engage in flirtatious conversations with women. It was not something he ever bothered with. Yet there was something about this woman that made his thoughts and words form without his intent and he found he was flirting before he knew it.

She was a combination of beauty and brains, mixed with something he could not name that had him thinking about her more than he should have done last night after he left the drawing room with Toby. For him, that was dangerous. She was a complication he didn’t need. His job was to protect King George and the Prince Regent from harm. His duty was above all else. His father had formed the organisation that Gabriel now managed and taught him that having a clear focus on his objective was essential for being effective at what he did. He had also taught him to trust no one and suspect everyone. And Andrew had come to understand how important that advice was.

His Uncle Peter had somehow become radicalised about Catholic emancipation. His beliefs were such that he’d resorted to violence to prevent information from reaching Gabriel. He had killed Andrew’s friend Matthew so the agent couldn’t deliver his information about a group of extremists in Ireland who had targeted Prinny and he was prepared to kill Gabriel as well, until Andrew stopped him. Andrew had sensed a change in him and had spoken to Gabriel about it before Peter left for his mission with Matthew, but he never considered his uncle would be capable of killing his family and friends. It made him question the character of everyone he met.

Lady Charlotte appeared outraged when he implied Mr Hunt might be fond of violent actions to achieve his goal. But he hadn’t been around her long enough to get a sense of her true character. Their discussion seemed to have no impact on her appetite as she ate her toast and ignored him. What a country widow thought of him shouldn’t matter. Soon he would return to London. The safety of the Crown was paramount. There were missions that needed his attention. In the meantime, he was helping himself feel productive by looking into any leads he could find about political unrest in the area and searching out the names of people who could be a threat to the Crown. When he left Cheshire, he would not be coming back—and he would never see her again.

Andrew was about to resume reading the paper and pretend she didn’t exist when Toby and his wife finally entered the room, followed by a footman. Mrs Knightly did not even try to hide her joy at seeing him sitting alone with her friend.

‘How lovely to see you both enjoying breakfast together,’ she said, taking a seat beside him at the table.

How long would it take before the woman realised the only thing keeping them in the same room together were those crispy pieces of bacon?

‘Did you both sleep well?’ she asked, placing her napkin on her lap, as another footman arrived with a pot of chocolate.

‘I did, once the thunderstorm had passed,’ Lady Charlotte replied, staring pointedly at the footman as he poured some of the fragrant liquid into Mrs Knightly’s cup. ‘And thank you for insisting I take your shawl. I find it has grown rather cold.’ She glanced at Andrew and her expression reinforced the subtle gibe.

‘Why did you not instruct them to put another log on the fire?’ Mrs Knightly motioned to the footman by the door and that man went about the task. Then she turned to Andrew with a friendly smile. ‘I hope your room is to your liking and you slept well.’

He managed not to scowl because of the foul mood he suddenly found himself in. ‘It is. The bed is quite comfortable.’ There was no sense in elaborating. The comfort of his mattress had no bearing on his sleep. He never slept well.

Toby had settled himself at the head of the table with a plate full of food. It was a wonder he did not weigh as much as the Prince Regent if that was how much he ate in the morning. Conversely, Mrs Knightly appeared to have no appetite at all, not even for toast.

She glanced from Andrew to Lady Charlotte and then back to Andrew, playing with her cup in its saucer. ‘I understand you live in a bachelor’s establishment in London called Albany. Are you able to get a restful night’s sleep with people coming in and out at all hours there? Lady Charlotte lives not far from here in a lovely home with views of scenic fields. It’s quite peaceful there.’

Lady Charlotte put her fork and knife down very deliberately, but kept her attention on her plate.

Andrew was glad Lady Charlotte would not be staying at Knightly Hall long. If he had to continually dodge Mrs Knightly’s comments about her friend, it would get exhausting. ‘I assure you the noises and disturbances are kept to a minimum. All the gentlemen who have sets there are very respectful of each other’s privacy and comfort.’

‘Is it true women are not allowed on the premises?’

Mrs Knightly must have interrogated Toby about him. He wondered what else she knew. Due to the secret nature of his work, her investigations on him were not welcome even though Toby was not privy to that part of his life. He glanced at his friend, who only gave him a slight shrug.

‘Yes, that’s true. Women are not permitted in the building.’

‘What a fine way to ensure no wickedness takes place within its walls. The residents must be all very honourable men, wouldn’t you say, Charlotte?’

Lady Charlotte nodded, but her attention was on the contents of her teacup. She really had taken a poor measure of him.

His life was all about nobility and honour—protecting the Crown by sacrificing a life for himself. Regardless of what she thought of him, he knew his life was consumed by noble actions. Hell, one of the reasons he was up here was because ensuring order was so important to him, he couldn’t stop.

And why did it even matter to him what she thought?

He had lost his appetite and had no desire to make polite conversation, but he knew he was now forced to sit there until everyone else was finished with breakfast. And by the amount of food on Toby’s plate, that could be quite a while. He would just make certain when they all left the room, he would avoid Lady Charlotte for the remainder of her time at Toby’s house.

Once the roads were deemed passable she would be gone. While he had no doubt the Duchess of Skeffington was seeking out his presence in London, he also knew Lady Charlotte couldn’t get away from him fast enough. In a few days, he would barely recall the green of her eyes and those soft lips. She would be a faint memory of this trip, if that.

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