The Lyon and The Rose of Mayfair: The Lyon's Den Connected World

Chapter Six

The flutter of nervous excitement in Charlotte’s stomach brought forth a stab of guilt. Here she stood amid a candlelit room in a gaming den, excited about a clandestine meeting with the son of her father’s enemy. She pressed her gloved hands together, thinking how her poor papa had been banished from his club because of General Warsham—a club he cherished and had belonged to ever since Charlotte could remember. Despite this, she’d looked forward to meeting Hugh all day, pushing down her guilt as she’d admired her shimmering pearl-blue gown in the looking glass, which she’d paired with a pearl-studded veil, white gloves, and a pair of pearl drop earrings.

Even when Mama had shown last-minute reservations about their plan, Charlotte had talked her out of them, not because she’d thought the plan a good one—she’d remained as uncertain as she’d been the day before—but because she’d been unable to stop thinking about Hugh since parting from him. He was the first man who’d ever aroused her interest. And it wasn’t simply because he was handsome. Charlotte liked the way he spoke of marrying for love and of a woman’s right to choose happiness.

What was wrong with her? She hardly knew the man. Yet, the prospect of crossing the room and spending time in his company again captivated her. The realization intensified her guilt, and she found herself rooted to the spot as soon as she stepped into the light of the gaming room and spotted Hugh from a distance.

I shouldn’t be here. This is wrong. I know it is. Yet, it feels right.

Hugh looked up from his card game and paused, staring directly at her.

He sees me. Unless I turn around now, it will be too late to put an end to this madness.Panic gripped her. Go now, Charlotte. Go now. She swung her body around, forcing her legs to make haste as she hurried along the edges of the ballroom, out into the hallway, and headed for the garden. She slipped through the patio doors and welcomed the blast of cool air that greeted her. But she did not stop there. She ran down the patio steps and faded into the darkness of the garden—or at least, that is what she thought.

“Is this part of the game?” His voice sounded behind her, and she turned to face Hugh in the darkness.

“Is what part of the game?”

“This cat-and-mouse chase.”

“What?” she asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Don’t be coy. I saw you watching me whilst I was playing cards. And as soon as I met your gaze you ran. Was I not expected to follow?”

“I—no. I was just—”

“Unless you’ve reserved your rose for another,” he said. “In that case, I will offer you my broken heart on a platter and leave. Is that what you’d like?”

“Your broken heart?” Charlotte said with a laugh. “That’s a bit much. You hardly know me, after all.”

It’s hyperbole—exaggeration. I only mean to say that I’d be sorely disappointed.”

“I know what hyperbole is, and I’m glad to hear you verify it. Because when you’ve heard as many grandiose declarations from men as I have, you never know when one is being serious or not.”

“Oh? You must either be very beautiful, very wealthy, or, I’d wager—both. Now, I am all the more curious to know your name and your reason for frequenting a matchmaker’s gaming den.”

“I could ask the same of you. I am certain that with your face, you have amassed your own collection of grandiose declarations.” Charlotte bit her lip, surprised and a little elated by her boldness.

“Well now, this puts me at a rather unfair disadvantage.”

“What does?”

“The fact that you can assess me by my face, but I cannot do the same.”

“It isn’t a disadvantage but an advantage. It is better to form an impression based on a person’s words and actions without the distraction of the physical.” She let her eyes wander momentarily down the length of his solid physique. His navy-blue waistcoat, patterned with gold paisley, had been cut perfectly to fit his taut waist. The accompanying navy-blue suit was likewise perfectly tailored and emphasized his long, lean build.

“You were saying?” His words cut into Charlotte’s thoughts, and she quickly redirected her gaze, looking up at him.

“I was saying that you are at an advantage because you have the opportunity of getting to know me without the distraction of the physical.”

“That’s nonsense,” he crooned, “and you know it.” He stepped closer to her, sending Charlotte’s pulse racing.

“I think it only fair that you lift that veil and show me your face.” His voice was low and intimate, and Charlotte’s breathing shallowed at the thought of lifting the veil between them. It both excited and terrified her. The garden, illuminated only by moonlight, provided a sense of privacy, still, there was a small danger they might be seen.

“Very well,” she said, “I shall lift the veil after you tell me three things you like about my person. I know you haven’t known me very long, but you must have made certain assessments that don’t involve the physical during that time.”

“That’s easy,” he said. “First, you are intelligent and humble enough not to be flattered by men who make grandiose declarations and pursue you for shallow reasons. I have a feeling that you have a strong sense of loyalty and value family—why else would you prize a love match over a mercenary arranged marriage, as you called it? Lastly, you are kind. I noticed you thanked the waiter who offered us champagne. Many don’t take the trouble to acknowledge servants.”

Charlotte felt her cheeks warm. Here stood Hugh Warsham calling her loyal and trustworthy when she was lying to him and possibly betraying her papa. Oh, she no longer knew what to think. Mama had insisted they would be helping Papa if all went according to plan, but what was the plan? For her to woo a man by deceit? And she’d already told her mama that she would not marry a man she did not love.

No, the only thing to do was to reveal her identity and tell Hugh the truth. If he loved his papa as much as she loved hers, then they could find a solution to the terrible feud together.

“Well?” Hugh said. “I hope you intend to stick to your part of the agreement.”

“Of course,” she said, “but I’m afraid you won’t see much. There is virtually no moon tonight, and as you can see, no candles have been placed in the garden to light it.”

“Purposefully so, I think,” Hugh said. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon prides herself on providing privacy for her customers while having spies everywhere.”

“Does she?” Charlotte glanced around the garden. A rustle sounded from the bushes, causing her to jump.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s probably only a squirrel.” He paused. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to her veil.

Charlotte nodded, holding her breath as he reached and lifted the veil from her face.

She didn’t know what Hugh could see of her features as he gazed upon her face, but she knew she didn’t want him to turn away because it gave her equal opportunity to gaze unabashedly back at him.

He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face before he spoke. “When I was a boy in India,” Hugh said, “there was a blind man—a beggar—I saw many times on the street. I took pity on him and sometimes slipped him some food—nothing fancy—an apple, or a piece of bread. I was fascinated by how he used his hands as eyes—seeing shape and texture through touch.” Hugh brushed his fingers across Charlotte’s cheek, sending a wave of pleasurable tingles down her neck and spine. Her body shivered with delight, the flutter of new sensations leaving her flustered and breathless.

“Your skin is soft, and your cheekbones high but not too sharp.” He ran his hand across her jawline and cupped her chin. “Your face forms the shape of a heart.” Charlotte thought her knees would give way when he ran a finger down the length of her nose. “Petite,” he said, “and it turns up a little on the end.” His thumb moved across her lips, and he murmured, “Soft and plump, made for kissing, I think.”

Charlotte’s insides trembled. How could something this pleasurable be wrong? How could a man as thoughtful, intelligent, and charming as Hugh be anyone’s enemy? A dizzying swirl engulfed Charlotte as Hugh leaned toward her, and she arched her neck upward, silently willing him to kiss her.

He pressed his full lips against hers, parting hers with his tongue and slipping it into her mouth. A small gasp of pleasure escaped her throat. It was the first time she’d let a man—liked a man enough—to allow him to kiss her so intimately. Others had tried, but they only made her recoil.

Not this man. This man made her yearn for more.

She returned hiskiss with a hunger that took him by surprise—and that drove him wild with desire. He let his hands travel down her back and moved his mouth across the length of her jaw and down her neck. His hands came to rest on her round, firm bottom as he sucked the soft, pale flesh on her neck, desperate to taste her and take in her sweet scent. She pushed her slim body against his, arousing him further, and he momentarily wondered if she could feel his manhood through her dress. The thought gave him pause, and he pulled his lips from her neck.

“No,” she gasped.

“I’m sorry.” He lowered his gaze and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what came over me. I should not have taken such liberties. It seems I could not help myself.”

“You took nothing I did not willingly give,” she said. “Perhaps I should feel ashamed, but I liked what you were doing—I didn’t want you to stop.”

Hearing her say those words aroused a deep passion within him. He yearned to grab her and take possession of every inch of her body. “Don’t say such things,” he said, “it’s dangerous.”

“Is it?” She cocked her head as if trying to read his expression in the darkness. “I’ve always prided myself on doing right—living my life as a dutiful daughter and honorable young lady in society. The only thing I have insisted upon for myself has been a marriage of my choosing, and that has presented little challenge as my papa would never force me into a marriage of convenience. Perhaps—” she said with a slight laugh—“he simply wants to keep me at home as long as possible. Either way, I believe I concluded that I could be happy without marriage were it not for the fact that I wanted a family of my own one day. But, until tonight, I never realized that marriage in itself—separate from the joy of motherhood—and all that it entails between a husband and a wife could bring pleasure and fulfillment to a woman’s life in other ways. Indeed, I don’t think I have felt more like a woman than I have tonight.” She shook her head. “I feel foolish saying this to a man I barely know, but it’s the truth.”

Hugh’s heart drummed in his chest. It was true they hardly knew each other, but something about her—perhaps the mystery surrounding her—coupled with her sweet scent, her soft lips, and the way they’d responded to his kiss…

“I have something to confess to you,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “But it’s important that I explain everything completely and without interruption before you react—”

“Can it not wait,” Hugh said, taking her in his arms and kissing her again. He didn’t want to hear her confession now. Whatever it was, it could wait. He didn’t want reality to crash in on this moment and ruin the magic.

Working his mouth down her neck, he planted kisses on the bare skin of her chest and along the edge of her scooped neckline, while gently squeezing her breast over her silk bodice. He could feel her tremble under his touch, as he worked his mouth back up her neck, kissing her gently at first and then with more ardor. He wanted to bury himself in her—her taste, her smell. She clutched his hair, and threw back her neck, surrendering to him.

A great ruckus sounded behind them, and they parted instantaneously. Hugh spun around to see two men stumbling across the garden. One clutched a torchlight, and the bright flame momentarily blinded Hugh.

Then he heard a gasp and turned back to his companion. For a brief instant, he glimpsed her face, illuminated by the torchlight. And though there was no time to take in the details of her features or the color of her eyes before she pulled her veil back in place, he drew in his breath, taken aback by her sheer loveliness.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” he said, even as she turned and fled the garden.

The torchbearer attempted to follow her, but Hugh stepped into his path.

“Step back!” he ordered. But the drunken fool refused to comply.

Acting swiftly, Hugh punched the man, not so hard as to inflict damage but hard enough to surprise him so that he was able to grab the torchlight from his hand. The drunk stumbled backward in surprise, crashing into his equally intoxicated friend so that both men fell to the ground.

Hugh didn’t wait to see how they fared. He needed to find his rose—hell, he still didn’t know her name.