A Properly Conducted Sham (Most Imprudent Matches #5)

Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

BENNET HALL, SURREY - JULY 26, 1816

LEE

“So… Lady Champaign.” Michael had clearly been waiting for a lull in the conversation to introduce the topic of my wife. He was not subtle.

“What about her?” The warning was heavy in my tone. I wouldn’t have my wife insulted in her own home, or anywhere else for that matter.

“Nothing… you just—when you had Summers ask me about her, I did not realize it was with marriage in mind.”

“What did you think?”

He backed up a full step, hands in front of him placatingly. “Oh, no. That way lies yet another black eye.”

“Bring many men to violence by insulting their wives?”

Wayland shrugged as he flipped through a book with feigned interest. “It happens, though not usually for that reason. Jules won’t admit it, but I know she finds a black eye rakishly handsome. I had one the night we met.”

“Yes, I’m certain she swooned.”

“I apologize. I haven’t been sleeping well with Juliet feeling so poorly. I seem to say precisely the wrong thing to everyone lately. I didn’t mean to imply that Lady Champaign wasn’t worthy of the title.”

“Is Lady Juliet that unwell?”

“Yes, she’s still sick often—though there has been a slight improvement. And we had two losses before this one. It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for months. If I release it, we’ll lose this one too. And Jules is the worrier in the marriage. It’s a daily wonder she’s still upright.”

“I’m sorry for your losses.”

“She thinks she’s carrying twins, and I just… childbirth is so risky. Every single thing I learn I wonder why we decided to do this in the first place. And twins…” He set the book down and turned back to me. “But we’re talking about you and your marriage. You made quick work of the task, well done.”

I wasn’t so delusional to think he hadn’t done the calculations. Wayland was nothing if not skilled with numbers. And surely Charlotte’s degenerate suitor was a regular in his club. I suspected he intended the comment as an olive branch. Of course, I wasn’t overly fond of my future child being referred to as a task, but I decided to let that sit.

“Yes, well. I need an heir. And the estate is entailed.”

“Ah, one of the many benefits of my father’s philandering. No title and I own everything outright.” Michael wandered over to the telescope and peeked through it even though the shutters were closed against the daylight. “Champaign?”

“Yes?”

His eyes dragged along my scars, the ones he had been quite successful in dismissing until now. “Why did you not tell me how bad the accident was? I would have been here to help.”

“There was nothing to help with,” I said, dismissing the comment.

“But the burns… Surely they took months to heal. And you didn’t inform me of Lady Champaign’s death until months after it happened—didn’t tell me you were injured at all.”

“Wayland…”

“Never mind. I just… I know we weren’t the best of friends. But I thought we were… friends. And I didn’t hear from you for years. You never responded to any of my letters.”

His hangdog expression dragged a heavy sigh from me. “We were. But I wasn’t in a place to have friends.” I hadn’t realized the truth of those words until they hung in the air, heavy between us.

“Are you in a place to have friends now?”

And wasn’t that a question. “I’m fairly certain I’m not even in a position to have a wife at the moment.” Half of a laugh was trapped in the answer.

He chuckled outright. “Well, you certainly picked the easiest and most biddable wife to try with.”

“I really did. Do you know I thought her a practical choice? There’s nothing practical about that woman. She’s extraordinary.”

He surveyed me with a queer, unfamiliar expression. “I think you are probably in a very good position to have a wife.” There was something in his tone, approving or respectful perhaps.

“I doubt Charlotte would agree with you.”

“If it’s any consolation, you can’t have mucked it up worse than Hugh, and his wife is quite in love with him now. Though the reason remains a mystery…”

“Shall we return for supper?” I asked, unwilling to give more thought to my failings as a husband.

“A little longer? Juliet wanted a few minutes with your wife.”

“Whatever for?”

“I have no idea. Mending fences most likely.”

What fences required mending, I had no idea. But that wasn’t overly surprising. “Do you want to see the mirrors?”

“Of course I want to see the mirrors. What are the mirrors for?”

A bubble of laughter escaped me. “For the telescope.”

“Why does the telescope need mirrors?”

The sun was long set when we all piled back into the observatory after an amiable supper. The ladies had seemed much more at ease when we’d returned. Whatever Lady Juliet wished to speak to my wife about had been beneficial to them both.

Lady Juliet now surveyed the room with more wonder than I’d expected. Charlotte quietly explained pieces of equipment to her while Wayland and I made for the telescope.

I set it up for him and showed him how to find various stars.

By the time I made my way to the ladies, Charlotte was giving a thorough overview of the star charts and planets we might see. Rather than interrupt, I leaned back against my worktable, watching with interest. She spoke with enthusiasm and real knowledge.

Something inside me twisted as I realized she wasn’t feigning attention. At least not all of it. My wife had listened when I spoke about my interests.

I should have recognized it earlier, but something about watching her impart her knowledge with such eagerness… It was breathtaking. And frankly, seeing a woman— my wife —explain the use of a nocturnal had last night’s lust returning in full force. It was unbearably lovely, Charlotte speaking the language of the stars.

Why had I stopped her? We could have spent last night wrapped in and around each other, speaking an entirely different language. A language of sighs and gasps and moans and love.

I swallowed the hunger, fighting for sense. Not the time. Not the place.

Charlotte’s gaze flitted to mine when Lady Juliet asked a question she didn’t have an answer for. Her lips parted in a sweet pout. I had tasted those lips a mere twenty-four hours ago. I had laid claim to them. I should never have stopped.

My wife had summoned me, though. I strode to her and my hand found her waist of its own volition. Her golden bronze curls were calling to me in the candlelight and I dropped a quick kiss to the top of her head before reviewing the book she referenced. She tensed under my grasp before melting into my side.

Michael called out to his wife, drawing her over to show her something or other—it was hardly relevant at the moment. Not when I had an arm full of warm, lavender-scented Charlotte.

She popped up onto her toes and leaned into me. “I am still cross with you,” she breathed against my neck before dropping down from her toes with a placating pat to the shoulder. Then she abandoned me to join her friend.

I bit back a laugh that would be difficult to explain. She had spent a great many days of our marriage cross with me. Truly, she ought to be accustomed to it by now.

CHARLOTTE

The exhaustion finally set in long before we bid our guests good night. Mr. Wayland proved an enthusiastic student of astronomy and Juliet was interested as well. She was more intelligent than I had given her credit for in the past. Perhaps she would not be the worst friend I could have.

Lee hovered a few steps below me at the landing separating the East and west wings.. The warmth of his form seeped in through the layers of my gown and his coat that I borrowed to ward off the chill. I was reluctant to part with it. The hall was cold as well—not for any other reason.

I turned to face him. For the first time, we were the same height. The view was different here, right in his eyeline. His lashes were a darker blond than his hair and impossibly long. That was always the way with men, long, beautifully curled eyelashes they couldn’t give a fig about.

Looking up from below, his eyes had always seemed a flat, clear, grayish blue. But now I could see a darker navy ring around the outside and little flecks of silver in the irises.

The growth on his face was the same shade as his lashes, and I knew from last night’s experience it was soft with just the right amount of bite against my lips.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he finally broke the silence. “We should talk. But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” I agreed, still reluctant to give up the advantage of height now that it was mine.

Lee was quite considerate about not overwhelming me with his presence. On occasion, I even forgot I lived with a giant. But now, on the same level, I realized it wasn’t just the height. It was everything. His nose, his ears, his whole head—they were all massive. I didn’t usually notice since they were proportional to the rest of him, but he was simply a large man.

I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear and leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. Sensing my plan, he turned his head and caught my lips with his. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t wait. His hand caressed my cheek, and he devoured me.

He tasted of peppermint and a hint of the scotch he’d shared with Mr. Wayland, and I chased it with my tongue. I should not be doing this. I knew better. But once I started, it was so hard to stop. Impossible.

One by one, he climbed the steps between us until there were none left and he was looming over me again, engulfing me. Gently, he urged me back a pace and joined me on the landing. Once there, he directed me backward down the hall. All the while his lips claimed mine.

I needed to stop. It could not be him this time. I wouldn’t survive the rejection a second time.

One more taste, one more caress, just one more. And another, and again. Kiss after kiss until I forgot why I needed to stop. Until I forgot that stopping was an option. Until I forgot the definition of the word.

My back met something hard and flat with a thunk I didn’t feel. It took a moment to recognize that Lee’s hand had braced my head before he pushed me back against my door. My door… There was a bed in there… We could…

Lee abandoned my lips in favor of my jaw, doing absolutely filthy things with tongue and teeth that were sure to leave me reddened and wonderfully disheveled.

“Good night, Charlotte,” he breathed into my ear. And before the rejection could set in, before my heart had a chance to drop into my stomach, he added, “We’ll talk tomorrow. When it’s just us.”

I nodded. I had left the power of speech somewhere by the landing when his teeth had caught my lower lip in a delicious nip.

He pulled away, his eyes searching my face. Whatever he found there must have pleased him because his lips found mine again with a groan.

Eventually he dragged his lips from mine. His hand found the doorknob at my side and twisted it open. Gently, he brought his hands to my shoulders, turned me around to face my firelit room, and gave me a playful shove inside.

“Sweet dreams,” he added for good measure before shutting the door between us. I counted three heavy footfalls before the quiet creek of his door.

Sometime later when I crawled between the sheets, my lips still bruised from his attentions, I dreamed of peppermint and stars and Lee.