Belong To Me (book 4) (The Fielding Brothers Saga) (10 page)

Charlotte sighed heavily. “Perhaps I’d better leave.” Charlotte stood and made her way to the front door.

“I really think you should give Ian a chance to prove himself. He did seem very concerned last night. And the way he looked at you—”

“Please don’t,” Charlotte interrupted, holding up her hand. “I’m confused enough already.”

 
Allison kept quiet as Charlotte quit the room.

All the way back to Ian’s townhouse, she thought about Allison and George. There was a relationship that seemed to have spontaneous romance, and her friend didn’t have a care in the world. Then again, Charlotte knew her friend, and Allison didn’t keep her lovers for very long. Once upon a time, Charlotte had wanted that kind of life. Now she looked forward to having children and growing old with the man of her dreams.

She rolled her eyes. That would never happen now. Not while she was still married to Ian. He’d been the man of her dreams before he broke her heart.

The driver stopped in front of Ian’s place and a footman opened the door. Taking a deep sigh, Charlotte gave her hand to the groom as he helped her from the carriage. She looked up and scanned the two-story building. This place wasn’t home, and it never would be. But if she planned right, it wouldn’t have to be her permanent place of occupancy.

Charlotte dragged herself up the stairs, looking for some activity to keep from becoming bored. She wandered through the rooms, trying to familiarize herself with his things. They were all kept in good order, but the dark colors added dreariness to Ian’s life.

After a few minutes of searching, she found his room, which incidentally, adjoined hers. She wiggled the door handle between the two doors, and thankfully, it was locked. Moving slowly to the center of the bedroom, she eyed the expensive decor. Touches of forest green, burnt red, and coffee brown decorated his rugs and curtains. The room’s furnishings piqued her curiosity, and the first thing she noticed was the cleanliness. Obviously, he paid his servants well.

Her attention shifted to the enormous bed, and her throat turned dry. His brown bedspread was a mite darker than his eyes, and the color reminded her of the lustful look she’d witnessed this morning when his gaze swept over her. Last night he’d mentioned living as husband and wife for the next month. Did he actually mean in the physical sense? If that were the case, she’d certainly rethink the whole deal. But if she didn’t share his bed, would he count the days that passed that she didn’t?
 
Perhaps she’d better. She still wanted a child, and sharing intimacies with him was the only way.

Groaning, she rubbed her forehead as a headache started. Leaving his room presented a problem when his intoxicating, manly scent of spice surrounded her and made her comfortable. The longer she stood breathing in his scent, the more her body became hypnotized with the memory of his heated touches and wild kisses. Images of their passionate moments together at the masquerade ball propelled through her mind.

She wandered to his large armoires, opened the doors to one and beheld the numerous outfits he’d acquired. As she looked closer, she noticed that the first two were of his everyday attire, but the other two looked like costumes. On closer inspection, she could see that they were indeed disguises. He had a change of clothes for each character he’d become, when sneaking around and fooling people into getting what he wanted. Hanging besides his Hell costume, she recognized the old man’s clothing that he’d worn that first time they met when he rescued her from kidnapers.

She remembered that day as though it were yesterday; being the curious young girl she had been three years ago. Two men, who had loathed her father, kidnapped her for ransom. Ian had disguised himself as an old beggar man to gain the trust of
Benji
and Henry—the imbeciles who had taken her. It had been Ian’s soft eyes and long, lean fingers that led her to believe he was somebody else under those ragged and filthy clothes. If not for Ian, she could have been killed, for
Benji
and Henry
were
mean and cold-hearted as the devil.

Ian had been the most perfect man she’d ever laid eyes on. In her tender eighteen years, her body had been slow to develop, and so he thought her to be younger. Why hadn’t she seen back then how forcing someone to marry her would eventually ruin her life?

On instinct, she reached into the closet and took hold of the black cape he’d worn at the masquerade ball and brought it to her nose. Remarkably, it still held her rose scent from that night. She closed her eyes and sank against the cedar armoire door.

Was it really only two nights ago when she’d experienced passion so wonderful with a man who made her heartbeat so hard…and wonderful? Tingles spread throughout her, so she quickly fled from his room, slamming the door behind her. She had to keep her mind on other subjects.

When the lunch hour arrived, it relieved her to at least have something to do. The cook asked her what she wanted to eat, but Charlotte didn’t feel hungry. Ian’s suggestion kept plaguing her thoughts, and only out of boredom did she decide to go to his office.

The slight bounce in her step and smile tugging on her lips surprised her as she readied for her outings. She tried to tell herself she wasn’t excited, but her joyful attitude suggested differently.

She rushed into the kitchen to find the cook. “Would you make me a picnic basket? I’m going to surprise Ian at work.”

When Charlotte arrived at Ian’s office, she took a deep breath for courage, and then entered the building. The lobby was empty, so she moved to the adjoining room, thinking that someone might be there, but once again, nobody occupied the space. Another room off to the side caught her attention, but was hidden behind a closed door.

She knocked, but didn’t get a reply. Pressing her ear against the hard wood, she listened, and when no sound came, she walked in. Once inside she detected her husband’s spice scent. Cautiously, she wandered through his office, touching each book, paper; anything her fingers could caress as her mind told her that he had also touched these.

She cursed her sappy emotions. She needed to stay strong.

Many framed letters were displayed on the wall on one side of the room. On closer inspection, Charlotte realized they were thank you notes and letters of appreciation from Ian’s clients. It was rather strange to see how well-liked her husband was here in Bath. Her heart sank. If they worked out their marriage problems, surely his popularity would keep him here instead of back home in Surrey where she wanted to be.

She scooted around his desk and sat in his high back leather chair. How long would she wait for him to return? She sighed. Somebody would be here soon or they would have locked up the office.

Across the cluttered desk, a piece of paper grabbed her attention. The neat scrawling invited her to read it. As she skimmed the handwriting, she realized that this may indeed be the case he was presently working on.

September 4, 1852

I haven’t quite realized the mystery surrounding this man, but it intrigues me more every time I see him. No matter how hard I look for a flaw, I just can’t find one. Due to his hideous scarred face, he’s not perfect, but he’s definitely making me believe in purity. There isn’t a thing this man cannot do. I try to talk with him, but he refuses. I must be more inconspicuous when I spy on him. I also need to discover the mystery that surrounds his castle on the outskirts of town. Is he hiding something in that spacious castle, or is it the man he doesn’t want people to discover?

Charlotte’s enthusiasm sprang to life. Ideas floated through her mind, and curiosity made her want to help, but knowing her husband’s arrogant attitude the way she did, Ian wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t understand that this mysterious man just might speak freely to a woman rather than another man.

With a satisfied sigh, she sank back in the chair and grinned. She’d have to sneak behind her husband’s back, but that thought only intrigued her. Checking out a mysterious man and an old castle

might
put a spark to her boredom and help the next month to pass quickly.

Ian smiled at his beautiful wife as he seated her behind the large oak dining table. A large chandelier hung above the center of the table. Flickering candles created a romantic mood. Before leaving her side, he stroked her neck softly then walked around the table. “I missed you at lunch today.” He pulled out his chair then sat. “I had hoped you would come.”

She took the linen napkin and placed it across her lap. “I did come, but you weren’t there.”

He arched his brow. “Indeed?”

“Yes. Your cook even prepared a picnic, but since I couldn’t find you, I returned and ate alone.”

He placed his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hands as he stared into her lovely eyes. “I wonder why Mr. Stout didn’t tell
me?
”

“Who is Mr. Stout?”

“My secretary.”

“He wasn’t there, either.” She dipped her spoon in the bowl of soup and brought it to her lips. “Your office wasn’t even locked.”

“That’s odd.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “So, what kind of case are you working on? Is it dangerous?”

He chuckled.
“Not exactly.”

“Are you trying to capture a thief?”

He grinned at her curiosity.
“Perhaps.”

“Find a cheating spouse?”

He tilted back his head and roared with laughter. “Charlotte? Where are you getting these insane notions?”

“I’ve read a lot of novels.”

“Well, unfortunately, the case I’m working on now is not that exciting. In fact, it’s so boring I don’t even want to discuss it.” He brought his wineglass to his mouth and took a swallow. “So, what kept you busy today, my dear?”

She tightened her fingers around her fork. “If the truth be known, I had an extremely uneventful day. I couldn’t find enough to do.”

He grinned. “Perhaps I should have stayed home and kept you entertained after all.”

She shot him a glare. “So bored was I, in fact,” she continued, ignoring the suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, “that I went to Allison’s hotel room and tried to enlist her help for an escape.”

Ian remained silent for a few moments, trying to decide whether anger or hurt ruled his emotions. He knew he’d have to break her down slowly because she’d not forgiven him, but doubt crept into his mind, making him wary. Would he come home from work one day and find her gone? “What did Mrs. Archibald say?”

Charlotte laughed lightly, dabbing the corner of the linen to her mouth. “She flatly refused to help.” She eyed him harshly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think my friends are conspiring against me.”

He let out a relieved breath and smiled. “Perhaps they think we are made for each other.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “You are very humorous. I thought I’d convinced them I deserved better than a husband who’d abandoned me right after our wedding.”

Holding his tongue from biting back in defense, he stroked the lower half of his face. Her words hurt, and although it took courage to admit, he really deserved her anger. “Let me rephrase that,” he said softly. “Perhaps Mrs. Archibald and George think you are the woman for me.”

“You deserve nothing less than a piranha,” she hissed, quickly lifting the wineglass to her lips again.

He chuckled at her temper. “Well, then I suppose I’ll just have to prove to you how loving and attentive I can be, won’t I?” He set his napkin on his empty plate and leaned back in his chair. “
Which brings me to our next subject.
” His fingers drummed on the tabletop. “I’ve been invited to a ball tonight, and I’d really like to show off my beautiful wife.”

Her hands twisted the napkin on the table while a frown marred her face. “Are you asking or commanding?”

He shrugged. “I’m informing, but if you don’t want to go, I’ll understand.”

She sighed and her rigid expression eased a bit. “Does that mean I can remain at home?”

“No, but at least I’ll understand your frame of mind when your fangs sink into my neck at oft times during our evening.”

“Oh!” She threw her napkin on her plate and jumped away from the table. “I’m just as much a prisoner as I was three years ago when you rescued me from those kidnapers.” She turned and shot out of the room.

Ian leapt, reaching for her, but wasn’t quick enough. The loud slamming of the door echoed through the house, and left a pain of sadness in his chest. He’d have to work really hard at softening her heart, or the next month would be unbearable.

* * * *

Charlotte held her chin erect and pasted on a smile. Her surprisingly attentive husband grasped her elbow as he introduced her to his friends and associates at the ball. She caught a few raised eyebrows and thought she might have heard whispers behind her back, but she knew how to ignore gossip. As Ian pulled her from one couple to the next, she studied his sinfully handsome face and admitted that he actually seemed proud of her.

Certainly, he knew the art of deceiving.

Ian had these people wrapped around his little finger. His flowery words charmed and enticed the women, and the stories of his investigations lured the men to hang on his every word. As her gaze skimmed the length of his body, her heart skipped a beat. He looked masculine and refined in his black coat tails and trousers. The white silk shirt ruffled at his neck and wrists, and the silver necktie accented his bronzed skin perfectly.