Midnight Temptations With a Forbidden Lord (7 page)

Lady Charlotte looked at the chessboard, then looked at him with a grin that was far too knowing; she’d trounced him in more aspects than one. His only excuse was that he was distracted by their conversation, so much so that the game hadn’t even come to mind as he tried to puzzle together the young lady before him.

“Pooh,” she said. “We’ll have to arrange to play another game now that I’ve angered Genny. And I was winning.”

She stood, and he followed suit. Would they escape the chaperone without being scolded for their boldness? When was the last time anyone had scolded him?

Lady Charlotte turned toward the door without so much as glancing at her cousin again. “Do escort me back to the rest of the company, my lord.”

He followed her out into the hallway. Once they were in the corridor, the door clicked shut after Lady Ariel, leaving Miss Camden and Leo behind. Tristan turned, an amused grin tilting up his lips. What a rascal Leo was.

“What do you suppose they’re up to?” Lady Ariel asked, eyes wide.

“Catching up,” Tristan said, in defense of his friend, whom he knew did not deserve the same disreputable reputation as he.

“They are better acquainted than I ever imagined,” Lady Charlotte said.

“They go back a number of years.” Tristan took each of the ladies’ arms and walked toward the rest of the company. “Your cousin has been absent from society for a long time.”

“How do you know she was absent?” Charlotte’s brows lowered questioningly.

“A lucky guess, and you have just confirmed that suspicion.”

On entering the parlor, they went largely unnoticed by the other guests. The only exception was Lady Hargrove, who came up and snatched her daughter off Tristan’s arm, whisking the young lady across the room so fast that he still felt her warmth on his arm as he nodded to her from across the room.

“I’m afraid Lady Hargrove is hard to win over.”

Tristan looked at the one lady still on his arm. “I believe I have more fodder on her than anyone else in the ton.”

Lady Charlotte’s eyes widened, not with surprise but with interest.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are the very definition of trouble?” He stood near the doorway a while longer with her, knowing he could not monopolize her company with so many eyes and ears present.

“My father says I’m a perfect angel, and Grandmamma dotes upon me. Mind you, I am the only grandchild in the family.”

“I believe it. How you came to be so cunning is a story for another day.”

“Will we see each other again, my lord?”

“Sooner than you can imagine. I have every intention of learning all your secrets, but we must part company for the night. We wouldn’t want too many whispers speculating about our alliance.”

“Will you be visiting the Carleton estate this summer?”

“I’m not one to plan summer escapes. My poor sister wouldn’t be able to handle my children for an extended period of time in the hotter months.”

Lady Charlotte stood more rigid in his hold, her gaze perplexed. “Children?”

“Uncouth of me not to mention them sooner. They occupy my thoughts since they’ve just come down from my estate up north.”

Why had he mentioned them at all? He was supposed to win the young lady over to his favor. Now he was liable to frighten her off with the mention of children. This was different, though; he was out of his realm of expertise with this particular woman. He had always preferred a more experienced lady.

“No, I don’t mind knowing. You just seem so young to have children.” She swallowed visibly. “How many do you have?”

The pitch in her voice said he’d done precisely what he didn’t want to do—scare her off. “A boy and a girl.”

“Their mother?”

“Are you worried that ‘philanderer’ can be added to my description?” She slipped her arm away from his.

He looked at the confused expression in Lady Charlotte’s eyes and wanted to promise her that he’d never hurt her like Warren had hurt his sister.

He was not winning her over this evening. And he wasn’t generally unsuccessful at garnering the attentions of the fairer sex. He blamed the task at hand. Jez had said to charm and win the girl from Mr. Warren. Which he had every intention of doing, because the blighter would not be given the chance to get his hands on another young woman worth more than that man would ever amount to.

There was no disgust displayed in Lady Charlotte’s features, probably because she had no idea that his children were from the wrong side of the sheets.

“I am not married,” he assured her, which also meant his children were not born of a wife.

Damn it.

He needed to call it quits for the evening. It would have been better for her to hear that particular truth through the rumor mill; it unsettled him to see disappointment in her expression.

“I see,” was all she said.

He needed to fix this.

“My lady. I didn’t mean to cause you any distress and it would have been better had I not said anything.” He bowed so he didn’t have to look into her eyes a moment longer. He did not want to see disappointment there. “While I must call it a night, I do hope we chance upon each other in the near future. My evening was all the better for having spent it in your company.”

“You’re an interesting man, Lord Castleigh.” She ducked her head as he took her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles. “I do look forward to conversing with you again—hopefully the setting will be more private next time and with fewer interruptions.”

“You’re more daring than any woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”

“So I’ve on occasion been told.” She leaned in closer, her smile playing on her lips again. “Though I’m sure my tongue is liable to get me into trouble sooner rather than later.”

“I wouldn’t mind in the least if you caused a stir. I only ask that I can witness it firsthand.”

His hand slipped away from hers. He wanted to feel every contour beneath her thin gloves, but he could not linger in her company for much longer. The chaperone would be back soon enough, and the guests around him would likely take note of his interest in the young woman.

Would that be such a bad thing? Couldn’t he woo Lady Charlotte for all to witness?

No. He’d have to be careful, otherwise her father was likely to call him out and demand retribution—and not in the form of a proper courtship if he wanted Warren for a son-in-law. He was sure her father’s definition of fair compensation for engaging his daughter’s heart would be Tristan’s head on a platter.

He’d have to strategize his next move very carefully. And it couldn’t happen tonight so he bid Lady Charlotte adieu and said his thank-you and good-night to the host and hostess.

Chapter 5

Nary a soul is to be found out of doors and easily observed when the heavens decide to open up. Rain makes for dull gossip on most occasions. That’s not to say that secret meetings behind closed doors haven’t been noticed. Very recently the Duke of A
^____
was seen leaving his residence in the cover of night … and was not seen at any of his usual haunts or gaming hells. So where precisely did he disappear to?
—The Mayfair Chronicles,
May 1846 “Papa, it’s time to wake up,” his son shouted.

Rowan was jumping on his bed, bidding him rather loudly to meet the day when really Tristan could use a few more hours of sleep. He couldn’t remain abed, though, with the mattress bouncing and jostling his body every which way. Tristan cracked one eye open. Sun shone around his room, making it impossibly bright.

“Has the rooster even greeted the day yet?” he asked.

His golden-haired child Ronnie giggled. “Papa, it’s after eight.”

He let out a heavy sigh and draped his arm over his eyes to block the light until his sight was better adjusted. “I need to have heavier drapes installed so you cannot open them to the morning before I’ve had a decent cup of coffee to wake me.”

“But you always tell us how clever we are, Father. We’d find a way to open them,” Ronnie said matter-of-factly.

He reached out and grabbed Rowan around the waist since he was still bouncing about. He hauled him down onto the bed and tickled his stomach until he could say nothing through the gales of laughter that robbed him of breath.

“But then you would sleep till lunch.” Ronnie brought over his robe.

Letting Rowan up, he pulled his robe on and slid his legs over the side of the bed. Ronnie sat next to him, Rowan on his other side.

“Aunty Bea wants you to come down to breakfast,” his daughter said.

Tristan patted her plump cheek. Ronnie was such a serious child, and not inclined to games and fun like her brother. However, three years separated them so perhaps his daughter thought it childish to play the games that her brother loved.

“Bea’s probably set a plate of kippers aside just for me.”

Ronnie and Rowan laughed in unison. A revolted shiver ran the length of Tristan’s body; he hated fish of any kind, yet his sister insisted on making him eat the slimy stuff because it was good for his digestion or some rot. He didn’t believe her for one second; she was probably poisoning him slowly, enjoying the fact that she could torture him while she insisted something he despised so thoroughly was good for him.

Cinching the robe around his waist with one final yawn to greet the day, he stood and let his children lead him to the breakfast room.

Bea was sorting through his correspondence, something she should do for a household of her own, but not a possibility since she’d been forced to drop out of society when she started increasing. His sister used to be dressed in the height of fashion, but now she hid behind bland colors—a checked gray day dress this morning—avoiding gowns that draped off the shoulders as was the recent fashion and preferring long shawls even when the weather was warm.

“Anything good?” he asked when she didn’t acknowledge his presence.

His sister looked up from the stack of parchment with a smile on her face, one hand shuffling through the papers, the other clasped around the locket he’d gifted to her on the day her son was born.

“Unless you consider cards at Lord Hauxley’s on the third of June noteworthy, I’m afraid it’s mostly the usual.”

He came forward and kissed his sister on the cheek before taking a seat across from her. Her chestnut-colored hair twisted becomingly at her temples and was tied into a bun at her nape, simple and unnoticeable. It saddened him that his sister couldn’t find a husband and have a family of her own.

Ronnie and Rowan filled their plates from the long table while a footman came around and poured Tristan a cup of coffee.

“There was a note from Lady Carleton,” his sister said as she placed the rim of her teacup to her lips and watched him.

He raised an eyebrow in silent query.

“She wanted to send an early invitation to her house party at the end of June. She knows how you are often unavailable come summer.”

He hadn’t been invited to a Carleton summer party for more years than he could remember. Not that he cared, but it was an event that Bea had cherished the summer before their parents’ untimely death, and it had been the place where she’d fallen in love for the first and only time in her life.

“I’ll not leave you alone with the children. You’ve only just arrived in London, and I plan on spoiling them rotten before we head north for the hotter weather.”

“You’re trying to change the topic.” Her sister slid a few of the envelopes from the top of the stack until she came to the one she was looking for. She fished out the ivory parchment with a monogrammed C decorating the flap.

“You should go,” she said. “I don’t mind staying here.”

“You’ve only just arrived.” He dropped a sugar cube in his coffee and gave it a frustrated stir. The Carleton party would be a perfect excuse to get closer to Lady Charlotte, but his family always came first. He would not neglect them for a mere infatuation. Not even for his promise to Jez.

“I’ve not seen you for months.”

“You’re impossible, brother.”

“And you, sister, are relentless and often overbearing.”

“Where would you be without me to keep you in line?”

“You’re in a mood this morning.” He gave her a quizzical glance, trying to figure out what game she’d devised, and why she would care so much that he go to this particular house party. “Besides, it really should be you attending these country house parties, balls, and soirees. I say, they’re all a bunch of rot with far too much postulating.”

His sister looked at Rowan and then Ronnie pointedly. “They were on occasion fun, but I don’t miss it in the least.”

He took a long sip of his coffee, savoring the strong brew Cook had made. She’d put a dash of cinnamon in it this time, and he quite liked the hint of spice.

When he opened his eyes again, he drolly looked at his sister. He couldn’t care too much about her invisibility among the ton or she’d be offended. “It’s not right that you hide yourself away in the country to care for the children.”

“It’s my choice,” Bea said, stacking up the envelopes violently and turning her gaze away from his.

He would not fight with his sister. Not over this. “And I’ve always supported whatever choice you wanted to make.”