Seducing Charlotte Read online

  “And she’s so comely I want to scratch her eyes out.”

  Willa laughed. “Charlotte!”

  “Or maybe I should pull her eyelashes one at a time.” Jealousy burned in her chest. “But of course I won’t. Instead, I shall sit by and watch her ensnare Cam.”

  Rubbing her distended belly, Willa said, “Are you certain there’s no way the two of you can be together?”

  Charlotte scowled. “Do you think I’d allow that baggage to trap Cam if there was a way out of my predicament?”

  “I suppose not.” Willa yawned. “Still, I find the idea of Cam marrying anyone other than you quite distasteful.

  “You are fatigued,” Charlotte said, pushing to her feet. “I should leave you to your slumber.”

  “No,” Willa protested, even as her eyelids fluttered shut. “Stay.”

  Charlotte kissed her cheek. “You need your rest. After all, your body is in the midst of a very important undertaking.”

  “Mm,” Willa said drowsily. “I’m cooking up the heir to the dukedom. I hope he looks like Hart.”

  “And if it is a girl?”

  “He’ll spoil her terribly.” Her eyes fluttered shut.

  Charlotte summoned Clara to help her mistress ready for bed. Leaving Willa in the care of her maid, she retired to her chamber to work on the essay about Cam’s mill town.

  She planned to make another trip there in three weeks’ time, when a picnic would be held to celebrate the mill’s success. She looked forward to the opportunity to speak with the workers, students, and townspeople.

  Sitting at the escritoire, she quickly became immersed in work. Much later, after many words and reworked sentences, she put down her quill to stretch her cramping fingers and decided to ring for tea. Pulling the rope absentmindedly, she quickly became engrossed in her writing again. After a while, realizing Molly hadn’t responded to her summons, she welcomed the opportunity to stretch her legs. Rolling her neck out, Charlotte headed to the kitchen to ask for the tea herself.

  On her way, she passed the cards room where the raucous laughter and high voices suggested the men’s drinking game was well under way. Approaching the kitchen, Charlotte heard light laughter and conversation. Cook, along with Molly and some other members of the household staff, sat around the table enjoying a cup of tea and some biscuits. Nathan sat with them.

  Standing in the shadows, Charlotte watched her brother flirt lightly with a plump, red-haired girl she recognized as Miss Selwyn’s maid, whose freckled cheeks glowed with pleasure under Nathan’s attentions. Some of the bolder maids sent appreciative glances her brother’s way and glowering ones at the fleshy ginger top who’d drawn his interest. Nathan always drew more than his fair share of feminine attention.

  Pausing to take a drink of tea and toss a full biscuit into his mouth, Nathan seemed at ease with the servants, still managing to exude a sense of confidence and authority while interacting with them. Sadness tugged heavy in her chest that fate had put one of her brothers at the servants’ table, while the other kept company with a duke and marquess just a few chambers away.

  “Oh, miss.” Molly leapt to her feet when she spotted Charlotte. “Are you needing something?” The other people at the table moved to rise as well.

  “Please be at your ease.” Charlotte gestured for them to remain seated. “I’ve come to collect a cup of tea. As soon as I fetch it, I shall be out of your way.”

  Cook bustled over to prepare the kettle. “I’ll have Molly deliver it to your chambers just as soon as it is ready, miss.”

  “No need.” Charlotte advanced into the room. “I will just wait for it, if you don’t mind.”

  The staff exchanged awkward glances, not sure what to make of a baron’s daughter in the kitchen with them. She smiled, trying to set them at ease. “I suppose the state the gentlemen are in, they are not terribly in need of your services this evening.” Most of the assembled staff smiled, still casting unsure glances around the table to each other.

  “Aye, they are all in their cups already,” affirmed Nathan.

  “Who, may I ask, is winning?”

  Nathan gestured toward one of the footmen. “You will have to ask old Lionel here. He’s the one in service in the card room this eve.”

  Lionel’s chest puffed with pride. “Aye, miss. The duke is holding his own. But the marquess has had a few rounds of bad luck. He’s ape drunk, if you don’t mind my saying so. We just carried him to his chambers. Quite out of it, he is.”

  Miss Selwyn’s maid popped up at the mention of Cam’s name, her freckles brown against ashen cheeks. “Oh, I forgot. I must go.”

  “But your mistress retired with a headache several hours ago, did she not?” Charlotte asked.

  “Ah, y…yes, miss.” The maid’s chin wobbled. “It is…just that I really must go!” She scurried from the room, her rotund form moving with surprising swiftness. She seemed oddly nervous, but then, working for Margaret Selwyn would put anyone on edge.

  A few minutes later, Charlotte headed back to her room with a steaming cup of tea. Approaching the card room, she saw Selwyn standing in the hallway alongside Miss Selwyn’s maid, a look of consternation on his face.

  “You must come, sir,” the girl said with a great deal of urgency. “I have looked for Miss Selwyn for the past half hour and she is nowhere to be found.”

  Charlotte halted, ducking back behind the corner. The sudden movement caused her tea to lap over the rim of the cup, spilling a few drops of the scorching liquid onto her hand. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Charlotte righted the teacup, blowing on her hand to cool the slight burn.

  Why would the maid lie to Selwyn? She most definitely had not spent the past half hour looking for his sister. She’d left the kitchen not more than ten minutes ago. A vague sense of alarm stirred in her.

  “Perhaps she is in the library,” Selwyn said to the maid. “It is possible she is looking for a book to read.”

  “Ah…n-no, sir. I checked there,” the maid answered with obvious uncertainty. “Yes, I did, sir, checked the library, I did.”

  Charlotte grimaced. The maid was a blatant liar and a poor one at that. It wasn’t possible she’d found time to check the library since leaving the kitchen.

  “The only place I have not searched, sir, is the bedchambers.” The words were stilted, almost as if they’d been rehearsed.

  “But I thought you said you checked my sister’s room—” Selwyn stopped abruptly, blanching. He looked back at the door where the raucous drunken men still carried on.

  All except for Cam.

  “I am sure nothing untoward is going on.” But Selwyn did not sound convinced. His eyes drilled into the maid. “Tell me again where you have looked.”

  Realization slammed into Charlotte. Miss Selwyn was up to something and the thickheaded maid was in on it. What could that greedy wench be plotting? She ran the events of the evening over in her mind. There was only one thing Margaret Selwyn wanted: Cam.

  The footman’s words came rushing back. “The marquess is ape drunk, quite out of it he is.” Yet, just this evening, Willa had said how well Cam could hold his liquor and that Hart had never seen Cam foxed. And David Selwyn had arranged the game. Selwyn? Could he be in on whatever scheme his sister had in mind? She immediately dismissed the notion. He had seemed genuinely puzzled and concerned about his sister’s whereabouts.

  Struggling to organize her thoughts, she forced herself to think. Where was Cam? Up in his bed and Selwyn seemed poised to head to the bedchambers in search of his sister. A chill sliced through her. Her legs tingling, she turned and almost ran back to the kitchen, trying to balance the teacup to avoid spilling it again. She came to an abrupt halt as she entered the kitchen. The staff looked up in surprise to see her back among them.

  “Is your tea all right then, miss?” Cook asked.

  “What? Oh, yes quite, thank you,” she said, putting the tea down while searching out Nathan. She found his eyes fixed on her, one brow cocked.<
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  “I am afraid my escritoire has shifted most uncomfortably and I require immediate assistance to right it.” She focused on Nathan, pretending not to notice when one of the footmen stood up. “Mr. Coachman, if you please. I am in most urgent need of your services.”

  Nathan’s frown lasted just a second. By the time he stood up, a blank mask had replaced it. “Of course, Miss Livingston,” he said, his voice tinged with a sarcasm that only she could detect.

  “What is this all about?” Nathan demanded once they were well out of earshot of the others and hurrying up the stairs.

  “I am not certain.” She felt breathless, almost light-headed. “But I think Miss Selwyn is up to something and I need you to accompany me to Cam’s chamber.”

  Nathan frowned. “Camryn’s chamber? Whatever for?”

  “Just help me, please.” Her hands trembled as they slid along the carved, wooden banister. “I will explain everything later.”

  When they reached Cam’s bedchamber, Charlotte pushed the door open without knocking, praying they weren’t too late. The scene that greeted them shocked her, even as it confirmed her worst suspicions.

  Clad only in a diaphanous shift which showcased her full, barely clad breasts, Miss Selwyn was comfortably ensconced in Cam’s bed, her long, golden curls fanning out across the pillow like angel’s wings. Cam’s limp arm was draped over her waist, but Charlotte immediately saw he wasn’t awake.

  “Well, I’ll be—” Nathan began.

  Catching sight of them, Miss Selwyn jerked upright. “What in the world?” Her grey eyes narrowed at first, but then she lifted her chin, exposing a creamy expanse of neck as satisfaction settled over the lovely contours of her face. “Well, Miss Livingston, as you can see, the marquess and I cannot stay away from each other.” She stretched and snuggled closer to Cam’s inert body. “And now that I have been so scandalously compromised, it won’t be long before the banns are being read.”

  Outrage clouded Charlotte’s vision. “Compromised?” Her nostrils flared. “I don’t know what you mean, Miss Selwyn. I have seen nothing. What about you, Mr. Coachman?”

  “I?” Nathan’s eyebrows rose. “Not a thing, Miss Livingston.”

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Charlotte ducked her head out the door to see Selwyn, Hartwell, and Hugh heading their way. Slamming the door, she whirled around to Nathan. “Hurry, help me get her into Cam’s dressing room before they discover her here.”

  When he didn’t immediately move, she pushed him toward the bed. “Hurry, Nathan, don’t just stand there. Help me move her.” She grabbed the counterpane and flung it off the woman. The movement brought a grunt from Cam, who shifted in his drunken sleep.

  “Get away from me, you skinny bluestocking!” Miss Selwyn hissed, trying to grab the cover to shield herself.

  Nathan advanced, looming over her, amusement lighting his features. “Come now, Miss Selwyn, do not be difficult.” He reached to pull her up out of the bed.

  “Don’t touch me.” She drew back, panic shining in her eyes. “You’re just a servant. Don’t you dare put your hands on my person.”

  Nathan laughed, but the sound held no amusement. “It wouldn’t be the first time now would it, Maggie?” Miss Selwyn gasped when he hauled her up as if she weighed nothing, a dangerous glint glittering in his eyes. “And as I recall, you weren’t protesting the last time I laid my hands on you, moaning maybe, but definitely not complaining.”

  Charlotte didn’t have time to be scandalized by her brother’s words. “Hurry, Nathan.” She pushed them both toward Cam’s dressing room. She managed to get them all inside, slamming the dressing room door shut just as the door to Cam’s chamber swung open, followed by the sounds of muffled voices.

  “He is alone.” It sounded like Selwyn, the relief evident in his voice.

  “Sir, we must look around,” said a squeaky, uncertain voice. Miss Selwyn’s maid. Charlotte looked back at Margaret who glared back with a look of pure hatred in her eyes. Nathan held Miss Selwyn firmly around the waist with one hand while the other remained clamped over her mouth to keep her quiet. At that moment, Miss Selwyn struggled and made a muffled sound from behind his hand, her eyes blaring.

  “What was that?” said Selwyn’s voice.

  The grim voice of the Duke of Hartwell. “It appears someone is closeted in the dressing chamber.”

  Charlotte panicked as footsteps clicked their way. How would she explain why the three of them were in the small, dark room? She glanced back at Miss Selwyn’s state of undress. Her interference with the woman’s scheme would be pointless if the men found Margaret half-naked in Cam’s dressing room. Heat rose in Charlotte’s chest. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow Margaret to win Cam this way.

  Footsteps paused outside the dressing room door. Charlotte looked around wildly, desperate for a way out of this mess. Seeing none, she took a deep breath, opened the dressing room door, and stepped out into the Marquess of Camryn’s bedchamber.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Four bleary pairs of eyes gaped at Charlotte.

  The men were flushed, their clothes slightly askew from the evening’s excesses. Selwyn’s rounded eyes were edged with relief, likely because the lady stepping out of the closet and into disaster wasn’t his sister. The duke’s eyebrows lifted, his glance darting between Charlotte and Cam. Miss Selwyn’s maid was slack-faced. But it was the expression on Hugh’s face that truly alarmed her, especially as the booze-filled flush in his ruddy face deepened into a distressing shade of purple.

  Cam chose that moment to begin to stir. “What the devil?” He groaned and blinked repeatedly, his face scrunching up in confusion when he saw five pairs of eyes staring at him. It was at that moment that Charlotte realized Cam wasn’t wearing any clothes. When she’d pulled back the counterpane to drag Miss Selwyn out of the bed, she’d unwittingly uncovered most of Cam’s impressive physique as well.

  Her eyes were riveted when he stirred like a lazy cat, his bare, sculpted body glistening as the firelight flirted with it. The counterpane cover dipped dangerously low, revealing the enticing shadow of hair surrounding his manly anatomy.

  Cam realized it just in time. “Bloody hell.” He sat up, grabbing the counterpane to shield himself. The sudden movement appeared to cause him great pain. Wincing, he grabbed his head with a groan.

  Hugh stepped forward, his face almost the color of an eggplant. “Yes, what the devil indeed!” he choked out, appearing close to a complete eruption. “Perhaps you would care to explain why my sister is here in your room with you, with you—” He gestured agitatedly towards Cam’s obvious state of undress.

  Cam’s eyes narrowed. “Your sister?” His gaze floated over to her, surprise registering in his face.

  Hugh’s venomous glare suggested he’d like to both shoot Cam and run him through with the sharpest, longest blade available. “Perhaps you would care to explain Charlotte’s presence in your bedchamber.”

  “I was getting him a dressing gown,” she uttered, knowing just how weak her excuse sounded. Hartwell, Selwyn, and Hugh all looked at her empty hands. Miss Selwyn’s maid peered around the room, probably in search of her mistress.

  “I couldn’t find it,” Charlotte said weakly, answering their unasked question. A long, uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Charlotte grappled for a way to rescue the situation, but despite all the alternating scenarios and haphazard excuses crashing through her head, nothing formed into a cohesive thought.

  She took a deep breath and stepped forward, praying no more sounds would be forthcoming from the closet. “I came to check on my betrothed.”

  All eyes in the room swung over to her.

  “Your betrothed?” Hugh sputtered.

  “Yes.” Charlotte’s heart clamored as she tried to inject her words with calm indignation. “We meant to ask for your approval this evening, Hugh. But seeing as though you are all in your cups, it seems rather pointless. Really, you all ought to be ashamed of your behavior.” She b
linked repeatedly, trying to summon tears, which, considering her very real distress, wasn’t entirely difficult. “I hope you are pleased with yourselves. You have totally ruined our surprise.”

  Hugh’s overgrown eyebrows squished together. “Your surprise?”

  “Yes,” she lied, clenching her hands together to stop from scratching behind her itching ears. “Why do you think Willa invited you here so suddenly? It was for our big announcement.”

  Hugh’s mouth hung open. “You and the marquess have reached an understanding?”

  “Ask Her Grace if you doubt my word.” She squared her shoulders, making a mental note to get to Willa before Hugh did.

  “Is that so, Camryn?” her brother asked sharply, the color in his face easing into a less disquieting shade of red. “Have you made my sister an offer of marriage?”

  An almost unbearable stillness hung over the room as they all looked expectantly at Cam. Charlotte rubbed her arms, praying he was sober enough to comprehend the dire nature of their predicament.

  The cloud of confusion in Cam’s amber-green eyes gave way to a wicked gleam. “Ah, yes.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he held a hand out to Charlotte. “Congratulate me, gentlemen. Miss Livingston has agreed to make me the happiest man in England.”

  Relief weakened her legs. Determined to continue playing her part, she waved away the hand Cam offered. “Remember yourself, my lord. You are in your cups and not decent to be seen by anyone at this moment.” Charlotte’s voice trembled, but the men seemed to take her admonishment to heart. All except for Cam, who made a very poor attempt to look sheepish.

  Hartwell cleared his throat. “Well, I say, this calls for a drink.” He bowed toward Charlotte. “In honor of your betrothal of course, Miss Livingston.”

  “Of course,” she said drily.

  It all seemed to be sinking in for Hugh who realized the match he’d ardently hoped for was coming to pass after all. “Well, yes indeed.” A broad smile broke out across his face, the red in it returning to an almost natural color. “This most definitely calls for a celebratory drink. Charlotte, I trust you are coming?”