Chapter Thirteen
Charlotte felt warm air blow across her knuckles. She was not sure whether she was awake or not. The pain in her shoulder had subsided to a dull throbbing, and her body felt exhausted. She could not remember falling asleep.
She took one more moment to take stock of herself before opening her eyes. She was not in her bed. Again. Where was she? The canopy over this bed was also plush and rich and seemed to be of the same style as the last strange bed she woke up in. Benjamin Scarsdale’s bed.
As if she had conjured him, she looked down and realised the feeling at her hand was his breath, gently blowing across her knuckles as he grasped her fingers in his own—only inches from his lips.
If she stretched a finger out, she could touch his lips.
As if of its own accord, her index finger did just that.
With a feather-light touch, she traced the soft bow of his lower lip. He had a wide, masculine mouth, and here in sleep, his lips looked so soft she could not take her eyes from them.
He looked more dishevelled than the last time she had seen him. Dark stubble shadowed the strong planes of his face, and his short hair was sticking up in strange ways, as if he had repeatedly run his hands through it.
She watched him sleeping, still tracing a finger along his jaw and trailing a scar she had not noticed before that ran from his ear down his neck.
He stirred at that, and she smiled. He really was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. She was almost grateful to her idiot of a brother for challenging this man to a duel. Her brother. Damn. She still had solved nothing.
Before her mind could catch up with her, though, Benjamin stirred again and opened his eyes. For a moment, she was trapped in the depths of those beautiful, deep blue irises. The dark fringe of lashes only made them more striking.
Her heart began thudding against her ribcage, and she caught her breath.
“Charlotte?” It was like hearing her name for the first time. Without warning, he jumped up and took her face in his hands, pressing his forehead into hers. “You came back.” He whispered it so gently, she was not sure she had heard him.
Then, he was kissing her. His lips were soft and tender at first. She was stunned motionless.
But then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her body responded, and she kissed him back.
It was raw and involved, and it felt like her mind had been wiped clean of all of the clutter.
This was what mattered. This was what she should be doing.
Benjamin leaned in further, and the kiss became more heated. His strong arms wrapped around her and gently lifted her to him, even as she stretched toward him. Her body revelled in the action, twisting and grasping for more contact.
His fingers moved to the nape of her neck and curled in her hair as he pulled her closer, careful not to jar her shoulder.
He made a sound at the back of his throat that made her want to crawl onto his lap and wrap herself around him.
Who was this man? What was this pull she felt toward him?
It was beyond anything she had felt before and grew with every interaction she had with him.
She wanted to explore it. And her uncluttered mind could not find any reason not to.
A harsh knock came on the door, and he broke away, chest heaving as he looked at her, eyes drifting back down to her lips.
The sharp rap came again, and he cursed under his breath and shouted towards the door, “What is it?”
“Ben, you are going to want to come out here.”
“No, I am not.”
“The Earl of Elford is here.”
“Fuck.”
Charlotte was nearly twenty-seven and had heard the word before—and many worse. Still, coming from his lips, it sent an electric jolt up her spine, and she found herself wanting to hear him say it again.
Benjamin stalked over to the door and threw it open. Charlotte realised she was wearing nothing more than a chemise and pulled the bed covers up to her chest.
A man was standing on the other side of the door. The Duke of Wells.
She pulled the cover higher.
“Ah, welcome back, Lady Charlotte. We were not sure you were going to make it.” He made a polite bow, and Charlotte racked her mind for the polite gesture for greeting a duke from bed. There wasn’t one.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” She did not manage to tamp down the uncharacteristic blush rising to her cheeks.
“How long has she been awake?” Charlotte could hear the duke despite his lowered voice as he arched an aristocratic brow at Benjamin, whose hand flexed on the door frame. He was clearly resisting the urge to slam the door in the duke’s face.
“My brother is here?” Charlotte interrupted whatever was passing between the two men.
“Yes, my lady. He is in the office and demands to see you. Lord Deering is here as well.”
At that, Benjamin’s knuckles turned white, and Charlotte thought she heard the door squeak in protest. Her own body had gone stiff as a board at the sound of Deering’s name, and she desperately wished Benjamin would close the door again. If only to keep that vile man as far away as possible.
“I will be down in a moment.”
The duke nodded, and Benjamin shut the door.
“I should go down and see him. I am sure Freddie has been worried sick about me. How long was I asleep?”
“Six days. Maybe seven?” Benjamin was still glowering.
“Seven days?” Charlotte could not keep her voice down. “I have been asleep for a week?”
Her mind was racing. Seven days on top of the three before?
Or was it four? The days following the duel were still jumbled in her mind, and she felt a well of panic rising within her.
Who had taken care of the household during that time?
Surely, no one had been keeping an eye on Freddie and his reckless spending.
She began pushing herself out of bed and then stopped.
“You.” She looked up at Benjamin pacing in front of the door like a caged lion.
“You paid off his debts.” Everything from that last night was flooding back to her now.
“You bought out his debts from under Deering. He was furious.” She remembered the scene in the study when Freddie had shown her the papers.
“I came to repay you and you—” She stopped, suddenly acutely aware of him standing not two strides away and her wearing next to nothing in his bed. “You made me a proposition.”
He had stopped pacing, but his face was completely inscrutable.
“To be your mistress. To cover the debt.” There, her memory became foggy. “I did not accept, did I?” It did not seem like something she would accept, though she did not feel the indignation she would have expected at such an offer. No, in fact, she was intrigued.
“You did not accept.” He betrayed nothing.
“But I did not say no, did I?”
“No, you nearly died before you could.” He had taken on a whole new persona.
Gone was the relieved, unrestrained man she had woken up to. Now he held himself upright, apart. His features were arranged in a snide, unbothered mask as he shrugged back into his waistcoat.
“But the offer still stands,” he said it casually, as if he did not care what her answer was one way or another.
“However, I will have to take my leave of you now. I will send Lizzy in to help you bathe and dress before coming down to meet your brother and—” He stopped before saying Deering’s name.
A small mercy. “Maybe utilise some of the tooth powder standing on the shelf over there. Your breath is terrible, darling.”
With that, he shut the door behind him, leaving Charlotte perched on the side of the bed, gaping at the spot he had just left.
∞∞∞
It had sounded so vulgar when she had said it, offering that she be his mistress for money. Making her no better than a common whore. She had not said it, but Benjamin had thought it. And it made him hate himself.
He had put her in this situation. He bought up her brother’s debt, and when she came to try to make it right, he’d offered to make her a whore. He had not planned it that way. Had he?
When the opportunity presented itself, he did not resist. The idea of having her was too overpowering not to take. And at the possibility of her rejecting the offer, he had turned cold and cruel. He was absolutely disgusted with himself.
He stormed downstairs and out the back door.
Charlotte could meet with her brother alone.
Lizzy would stay by her side, ensuring her reputation and Wells would appraise him of any developments.
Benjamin could not bear to be in the building any longer and steep in his own shame.
Moreover, he was not sure he would not lose himself and try to shake some sense into the stupid young earl.
Charlotte did not need that right now. She did not need him.
He alerted his entire staff to ensure Deering was gone in moments. The man was not welcome in any establishment of his. They would remove him before he could harm Charlotte. She did not need him hanging around.
∞∞∞
Lizzy helped Charlotte bathe and dress, cooing over her the whole time.
The poor woman had been scared out of her wits when Charlotte up and disappeared in the middle of the night.
Charlotte felt guilty for not having considered her new friend’s feelings before her ill-advised flight.
So certain had she been that Lizzy would not be sacked, and so consumed by her own woes, she had not stopped to consider the distress she might still cause.
Perhaps if she had told Lizzy, she could have saved herself this whole ordeal.
It had been foolish to jeopardise her health like that.
She knew that now. Though she could not come to regret the whole experience.
She touched her lips absentmindedly as Lizzy brushed out her hair and pulled it back into a loose chignon.