well, madam. Why don’t you finish your tale and we may proceed from there.”
She tried to explain to him about the conversation she and her sister had overheard, and she finished with, “I thought if I could get word to you before she appeared, you would be able to handle the matter in whatever manner you wished.”
He asked, “Did you by any chance catch the, ah...lady’s name?”
She turned red at his insinuation. “Oh, dear, it was Charlotte, I think. Yes, I am sure it was Charlotte.” She bowed her head, saying, “Godspeed, my lord,” and turned to go.
He could not think of a Charlotte at the moment, but truth be told he was not terribly concerned with her. It was obvious this woman was unaware of his reputation, but somehow, he thought she would have offered her help even if she had known of his well-earned title of rake. For the first time in a long time he was touched. Amused, but touched.
He grasped her hand as she turned away, and she looked askance at him over her shoulder. He pulled her back, to face him, and took hold of her other hand, as well. She smelled good—of lavender, he thought. He was still intrigued by her; he wasn’t ready for their tête-à-tête to come to an end.
“As a man too often in the presence of grasping and manipulative women, I apologize for my behavior to one who is obviously not.”
“Great guns! You are the strangest man I have ever met!”
“‘Great guns’?” he repeated, and threw back his head in laughter once more, squeezing the hands he was still holding. “What a delight you are, my dear!”
“Shh! I beg your pardon,” she said, eyes downcast. “I am not in the habit of having to watch my tongue.”
He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them. “On the contrary, you are the most delightful and—”
A gasp from across the room broke the spell, and his rescuer broke the hold he had on her hands. She nervously smoothed her gown. Looking over, Brandon felt his smile immediately give way to a frown. It had never occurred to him the Charlotte she had mentioned could be Lady Charlotte Marchmont, one of the most outrageous gossipmongers in all of London.
The lady’s eyes were mere slits and her voice was insinuating. “Well, my lord, either you are being much less discreet, even for you, or it appears you have kept a budding romance secret from the ton. I wonder which it could be.” Apparently if Lady Charlotte was kept from carrying out the seduction overheard through the walls, she would, at the least, be sure of retribution. Brandon feared it would be directed at the perceived interloper. So here he stood, free of Lady Charlotte, but bound now, in honor, to protect this woman. Her reputation could soon be in tatters, if Charlotte Marchmont had her way.
He could walk out that door as though nothing had happened; Charlotte could spread any tale she liked of his actions; Society would forgive him. And there would be no penalty to Lady Charlotte for spreading unsavory tales, from a society that loved juicy gossip more than reputations.
No, the consequences would rest solely on the woman in front of him, who had done nothing to deserve them.
He had not expected the backbone of the lady before him as she retorted, “I am not a secret anything to this gentleman. And I will thank you—” she said, just as Brandon announced:
“Lady Charlotte, may I introduce you to my betrothed?”
Both women turned to stare at him as if he had grown two heads.
“Mayhap, my love, we should take our discussion into your private parlor,” he drawled. “Landlord, please have my horses stabled and a room prepared for me. I would appreciate dinner within the half hour.” Brandon thought he did a very creditable job of not clenching his teeth.
He was now betrothed to this unknown woman. He must keep up appearances. “Let me just give my coachman a word on the horses and I will join you, my dear.”
As he passed by the first doorway, he bowed to the flashy redhead and smiled. “Charmed, Lady Charlotte.”
If the caterwauling coming from the room after the door slammed shut was any indication, she was not happy with the turn of events.
His coachman was still in the foyer, so giving him his final instructions of the night took very little time. Brandon leaned against the doorjamb outside of his new betrothed’s private room. Despite his attitude of nonchalance, he knew he was in as much danger from the unknown woman as he was from Charlotte Marchmont.
He would use the same tactics she had used: seeing what he could glean through the thin walls.
“Oh, Grace, dearest, what kept you? I thought you were just going to warn him and come right back. The lady in the next room has been ranting. I had to cover my ears, it was so loud.” He listened, not recognizing the voice that spoke. He would guess she was a younger woman, likely the sister who had been mentioned. “Oh, dear, are we in the suds this time?”
“Lydia, darling, we are not in the suds. But I must clear up some confusion with the gentleman. We will be on our way to London on the morrow as planned.” From the tone she used, it was clear that the second woman was someone “Grace” loved very much. “I think if you will just go up to bed, it will be easier to make the necessary explanations.”
“Cor, my lady,” interrupted the clear voice of a servant. “We can’t be leavin’ you alone with a gentleman, ’specially one you are unacquainted with.” Hearing her called “my lady” by the maid made him more wary. It could complicate matters considerably.
“For pity’s sake, I am six and twenty, not sixteen.” So, this beauty had fire in her! “I apologize. Everything will be fine once I have spoken with the gentleman. The staff and guests here think I am betrothed to the man, so there is no reason for anyone to wonder at us being in here alone.”
“Betrothed to him?” the one called Lydia asked.
“But I,” Grace continued, as if she had not been interrupted, “cannot have the two of you watching us as we discuss what must be done. He did not seem in a particularly good humor at the end of our meeting, so I should like to get over this rough ground as smoothly as possible.”
Hmm, she had been able to detect his shift in mood after the charade stopped being interesting. She was more than just a pretty face. He listened again. “I will join you upstairs directly.” She resorted to pleading. “Please, Lydia.”
He stepped back into the shadows as the door opened and two women left the room. From his vantage point, he could not see their faces, but one was definitely a servant and the other a very young lady.
When he entered the room, lowly lit by the fireplace, he found the mysterious woman leaning against the mantel, staring into the flames, and he had a few moments to study her as she remained lost in thought. She was not a conventional beauty, but standing in the glow of the embers, she almost took his breath away. She was a little taller than most and the colors of the fire turned her brown hair to a shining chestnut. Her tanned skin indicated she spent much time out-of-doors. It would not help her in the marriage mart, where porcelain skin was envied, but he thought it becoming to her.
She was an enigma to be sure, but until he knew her mind he would keep his guard up. Since he’d been nineteen years old women had been trying to entice
