Page 9 of A Lady's Dangerous Secret
The Duke broke the silence in his soothing voice, “I’m glad you still had a dance open. I’m sorry for making it to the ball later than anticipated.”
Charlotte could not help but genuinely smile at his humble statement. He was neither brash nor arrogant as she assumed was a requirement of his station. “You must be busy with your ducal duties. My aunt made sure I saved a dance for you.” Charlotte cringed at her insipid comment but she was sticking to the only subjects she was allowed to discuss: the weather, the gentleman’s interests, or the weather.
The Duke chuckled. “I would not call it ducal duties, per se. I have four daughters. Two are married, but the younger ones still live with me. I had to check on them before leaving for the ball.”
His eyes were warm with a hint of melancholy she could not quite pinpoint. She would have never thought of any nobleman, especially a duke, giving a second thought about his daughters. Based on her own father, she knew firsthand how a typical aristocratic family functioned. Yes, she had made the right decision in choosing His Grace.
“It sounds like they are lucky to have such a caring father,” she replied honestly.
The Duke’s shoulders subtly shrugged before he expertly maneuvered them around another couple. “After their mother passed away two years ago, I’m afraid we have all been a bit out of sorts. I do what I can, but I’m by no means a substitute for the guiding hand of a woman. Luckily, I have at least a year before my next daughter comes out.” He looked expectantly at Charlotte.
She schooled her face into a neutral expression. Her aunt had failed to mention that not only did the Duke have four daughters, two of whom were older than her, but two had not even come out yet. She would be the worst possible person to introduce the Duke’s youngest daughters into Society. That issue aside, she could not imagine enduring another London Season. She wracked her brain. There had to be another duke to consider, even one old and decrepit if that meant she could hide away in the country until presumably he died in short order.
“Do you enjoy London?” the Duke asked.
“I prefer country life. I miss riding in the hills of Shropshire.” The truth fell out of her mouth. “The crowdedness and the odors of London are only tolerable for so long.”
He chuckled. “I entirely agree with you. Alas, we must perform certain obligations to return to what we love. I think you would enjoy Kent. I have an impressive stable.”
“Your Grace…” Charlotte swallowed. She could not ignore his insinuation of marriage and tip her head coquettishly likeother debutantes. “I must be honest. I fear I would be a terrible influence on your daughters. I’m not like the other ladies in this room. Any number of them would be much better suited to introduce your daughters into Society.”
The music slowed, providing the Duke with time to formulate his response. He guided her back toward her aunt. But before he deposited her at Aunt Frances’s side, His Grace paused. “That’s why you would be the perfect woman to guide them. I don’t want a simpering miss as my wife. Plus, your Society arsenal would include your aunt, so I doubt you would have to lift a finger.” He gave her a wink, then nodded and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
CHAPTER FIVE
James was exhausted.
He squinted against the rare April sunlight that filtered through the clouds on this brisk morning. His body was stiff on his brown gelding as the horse trotted through Hyde Park, not a soul in sight, given the early hour.
The previous night’s events ran through his mind. After dancing with Lady Charlotte, his restlessness had increased from her asking him what many would think were simple questions. The ones regarding his father and the Royal Navy felt too personal, though, and had pushed him past what he could tolerate. Consequently, he took his leave and said a quick goodbye to Gabe before disappearing. Although Gabe did not know James’s whole past, he knew enough. Gabe had his own demons and understood.
After leaving the ball, James made his way toward the gaming hells in St. James, given their proximity to Mayfair. He thought a distraction, any distraction, would help the restlessness he felt. When he reached the dens of iniquity, thinking he was ready to mindlessly spin a roulette wheel, he could not bring himself to go inside. Being surrounded by smoke and men bent on losing their fortunes was no consolation.
Next, he wandered toLa Nuit Noire.He entered the high-end brothel, hoping that some quality quim would relieve his needs. Yet, when the scantily clad ladies sauntered toward him with their bodices cut so low the tops of their nipples were visible, he only felt revolted. He desperately wanted to relieve the aching in his cock, courtesy of the infuriating Lady Charlotte, but going through the motions of anonymous sex was not going to relieve his perturbation.
He always had a restlessness inside him that worsened when he felt cornered. Years of childhood abuse had done that, and Lady Charlotte’s questioning had triggered the same cornered feeling even further. He had thought the Royal Navy would help quell his uneasiness, but it had not. After years of trying, he still did not know a way to make the restlessness disappear.
He drew his hand from the reins and rubbed his temple. He had made it back to Gabe’s town house last night and into his bed, but his head was throbbing from lack of sleep. Despite the discomfort, James could not drop his military training, and constantly surveyed his surroundings. In the distance, he saw a shadow dart into the woods, which he figured was a deer relishing the lack of humans in the park.
Then he heard it.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His eyes scanned the parkland in front of him before sweeping to the peripheries. Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he saw movement. James jerked his gaze to the left, and spotted a man on a gray horse emerge from the trees. The man gave his steed its head as it galloped in the distance, the man bent over his mount, his top hat somehow still in place. James stopped his own horse to watch the spectacle before him.
Whoever the man was, he could ride and appeared to have an innate comfort in the saddle, unlike James, whose body was always tense when he rode.
He looked around to see if someone was in pursuit of the rider, given the speed at which he was galloping, but no one else appeared. Perhaps the man had to exercise his horse and sneaked in at an early hour to get in a good ride. Galloping would not be allowed later in the day, when thetoncongregated on Rotten Row to parade themselves about like peacocks in full plumage. Yet another useless pursuit of High Society.
His musings were interrupted when the man stopped abruptly. Up until this point, the rider had galloped perpendicular to him so that he could only see his side profile. Now, he had an opportunity to get closer.
James clicked his tongue and urged his gelding into a trot. The gray horse in the distance snorted and shook its head, settling down from the morning’s exertions. Once he closed the distance and was almost upon the rider, he realized the gentleman was so small his clothes were hanging off him. Before James could contemplate the peculiarity of his dress further, the man turned his horse toward him.
Cornflower-blue eyes stared back at him.
He gaped at the rider before he stammered, “Lady Charlotte?”
A flush crept up her neck and traveled above her surprisingly well-tied cravat. James looked at the figure before him in a new light. Yes, the clothes were loose, but even so, certain features were more pronounced than when Lady Charlotte was in a long, flowing gown. She wore a waistcoat on top of a loose, men’s lawn shirt that was tucked into her breeches. Her outfit revealed a thin waist that widened into full hips, which filled out the top of her pants as she sat astride. His eyes grazed over the space between her legs.
