Chapter 4
Charles
Henhaven strides up the stone walkway, his head bent low as he studies his steps. What the devil is he doing here? It’s bad enough I’ve been summarily dismissed, but to see the object of my vexation so soon after is not to be borne.
As we near each other, he looks up and gives me a polite smile that refuses to meet his eyes. He grips the brim of his hat and gives a small bow. “Your Grace. I didn’t expect to see you here. Nothing amiss, I hope.”
“Why would there be something amiss?” I grind out as my teeth clench together. “‘Tis a fine day, if not a tad cold. You have announced your engagement. What could possibly be wrong?”
“Well, seeing as you are leaving my intended’s home in such a rush, I find myself anxious to hear what could be driving you from their doorstep. It looks as if hellhounds nip at your heels. Or is it that their accommodations are too rustic for the tastes of a duke?”
I long to not pay his words any mind, to not give credence to the fact that I lost Miss Campbell because she, herself, was too modest in my brother’s eyes.
For him to hit on that sore point, however, I find that it’s all a bit disconcerting.
It’s not as if the chap is clairvoyant. I’m sure a power like that would have come forth at some point.
“I merely wish to take a light luncheon with my family before working in my study.”
“Nonsense,” he cries out, clapping my shoulder with his hand. “Any friend of my betrothed is certainly a friend of mine. I’m sure they will not mind you taking luncheon with all of us.”
Just the very idea of sitting across from him, making idle chatter while the woman I desire most of all is there as well, is enough to make my stomach churn.
However, to leave now would be to show weakness at best and scandal at worst. Besides, her father gave me a way out of all of this, didn’t he?
I simply have to find the scandal hidden beneath the kind veneer.
All of us in the peerage have the dark, dastardly part hidden away, but if one digs deep enough, it will always come to light. Smiling, I take a step back toward the door. “If they can spare some food for me, I will gladly take you up on that offer.”
As we both step back inside, Kirden pauses at the door and slides his spectacles down his nose as he glances between the both of us. “Norhaven, I thought you had quit this house. How is it I find you back here with Henhaven in tow?”
“Forgive me, Kirden,” Henhaven smirks. “It’s my doing. You must put the blame on me. I thought it would be good to take luncheon with Norhaven since he was here with you just moments ago. I worried it would be rude to send him on his way hungry and thirsty.”
Kirden looks back over at me and raises a single eyebrow. To his credit, he does not disclose the nature of our meeting, but that doesn’t mean he won’t allow his tongue to waggle at an inopportune time.
With a false smile, I put on an air of nonchalance. “I was on my way home when this gentleman requested that I stay. If you would rather tend to his hunger alone, I am well to leave.”
“No, no, Norhaven,” Kirden chuckles. “Far be it said that I rejected a duke. We have more than enough food prepared to satisfy your hunger. Besides, it would do our happy couple good to have others bear witness to their interactions and spread the word of just how delightfully they fit together.”
Bastard. The twinkle in his eyes tells me he knows just what he’s doing. He thinks that by forcing my hand, by keeping me there with them will show me my place. Or rather, it will show where I don’t belong. Happy couple indeed.
As we gather our small plates of meats and cheeses and recline in the parlor, Miss Campbell and her mother stride in to join us. The moment they enter, the young omega looks over at me, her eyes wide and face ashen.
“F- forgive me, Your Grace,” she murmurs as she curtsies to both Henhaven and me. “We were not expecting you.”
“I do hope my presence isn’t a vexation. I could leave if I cause you distress.”
“Nonsense,” Henhaven cries out, making his way over to Miss Campbell.
“My intended will soon be hosting all manner of peerage. She should take this moment to learn to be comfortable with it. Especially since she seems so enamored of your sisters. I dare say, she’ll be hosting balls and inviting them soon. ”
Miss Campbell’s lips twitch into a thin smile as she nods and takes her seat next to Henhaven. Misery pours from her small frame, but I’m sure only I’m aware. I’ve seen her at her most vulnerable. I know when she’s distraught, something Henhaven hasn’t seemed to learn yet.
All around me, they talk and chatter. For sheer preservation, I drown them out. Glancing over at Miss Campbell, I watch as a bead of sweat slides down her throat and disappears into the swell of her breasts. God, has she always smelled that delightful?
Even now, the scent of peony and parchment swirls around my head, setting my teeth on edge. I want to grab her from off of that patched-up settee and drag her over my lap, spanking and teasing her until the scent blossoms all the more.
My balls draw up as I sit there, cock hard as stone trapped between my stiff linen shirt and my lower abs.
I smother a groan with a bite of bread with a bit of jam.
I just have to make it through luncheon.
After that, I can contrive to not see her again until it’s to break the news of scandal to her father.
Once I can take her as my bride, it will be safe to be in the same room again. In my fury and need, I bite into the meat, chewing with a ferocity that mirrors the agitation deep within my soul. Everything is falling apart. Everything collapses at my feet.
“Forgive me, Miss Campbell,” the footman calls out as he brings a letter to her side. “This arrived for you. The messenger said it was urgent.”
Henhaven leans over, his lips thinning into a frown. “I hope everything is well. What could possibly be the matter that you have an urgent missive?”
My brow furrows as I study Henhaven’s posture. It’s ramrod, uneasy. Even for someone like me who craves his submissives on their knees under my abject control, this seems a bit much. A woman is well entitled to her privacy.
“I’m sure it’s just some female business,” I say, fixing my tone so that it’s a bit more flat and bored. “Everything they do and say is tinged with a bit of urgency.”
“I’m rather curious myself,” her mother chimes in. “Do tell us, Cynthia.”
Her fingers shake as she opens the letter under all of this scrutiny. Poor thing isn’t even afforded a modicum of privacy. It hurts my heart to see her so vulnerable.
“It’s from the triplets,” she sighs as she puts the letter in her lap.
“Their mother,” she glances at me, “the Dowager Duchess of Whiteport requests that I stay with them while preparing for the marriage. My friends lament the idea of me being a married woman while they still reside at home waiting for their coming out. This is to be our last hurrah as single, well rather unwed, friends.”
Henhaven looks at her and rubs his jaw. He’s in no position to order her to stay at her family home. Not yet, anyway. Off to the side, her mother lets out an unholy squeal as she stands up and brushes her hands on her dress.
“And they do not think you’d like to spend this time with me? Bonding with a mother before your nuptials?”
“I’m sure they mean no harm, Mother,” she answers. “Besides, it’s not as if I cannot still do all the duties of a bride-to-be. I will, of course, see to the fittings and whatever else is needed.”
“Yes,” she seethes, “but you will not be under my roof, under my watchful care.”
I study her mother’s face, noting an odd pinch about her lips and in her forehead.
She seems altogether quite ill at this proposal.
But why? It’s not unheard of for ladies to spend their time with friends.
And with my mother as host, there is not even a whiff of scandal.
By all rights, I feel as if I should be incensed by this reaction.
“My mother is a proper woman,” I say, keeping my tone light and neutral, though I long to keep Miss Campbell as far away from me as possible. “Your daughter will not entertain scandal while there.”
Her face blanches, turning as white as fresh snow. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I did not mean to imply-”
“But you did.” Glancing down at my sleeve, I flick off an invisible speck of dirt.
As much as I need this distance from Miss Campbell, I would like to see her happy and away from Henhaven while I employ my friends to dig up whatever dirt they can on him.
“To refuse my mother would be to refuse a dowager duchess. A woman much higher in rank and esteem. You wouldn’t want idle tongues gossiping in the streets, would you?
Not with your daughter marrying in so short a time. ”
Miss Campbell slides her gaze over to me and tilts her head. But of course she can’t understand my motives, and I do not feel any inclination to educate her.
Kirden rises and puts his hand on his wife’s arm. “Harriet, your daughter deserves some happiness with her friends. She is, after all, to be beset with burdens fitting an elevated title. We should allow her this bit of fun.”
“But then who will see to her breakfast?” she whispers.
At this, I can’t help but frown. “Are you implying that we would let her starve?”
“No, no. Of course not,” she cries out. “Nothing of the sort. It’s just I… we… There’s a special way I prepare her warmed chocolate and breakfast that she rather enjoys. I do so hate to have her miss out.”
Odd and far odder. Shaking my head, I rise, preparing to leave. “I’m sure Cook is well enough up to the task. The times Miss Campbell has been in our home, she seems to rather like the way she prepares her meals and snacks.”
Henhaven rises and narrows his gaze. “So she’s been to your house before?”
This time, the smile that creeps across my lips is genuine. It’s just below wolfish, but enough that Henhaven might know he has a spot of competition for the lovely Miss Campbell’s affections.
“Enough that she is considered one of us. A daughter, a sister, a dearest friend. And she will always be welcomed, no matter the circumstances. Now then, I will be off. Shall I send word to my family that Miss Campbell will join us for the next few weeks?”
“Please do, Norhaven,” Kirden nods. “My daughter and we are delighted at the invitation. Once you depart, she will pack.”
“Excellent. Carriage will be here around seven, so she may join us for dinner.”
Nodding to the group in the parlor, I stride out, my heart pounding in my chest. This is not going to be easy. How am I going to keep my hands off of her while under their roof?
While deep in thought, I nearly miss the sound of Henhaven’s shoes as they clatter on the ground as he follows behind. “Hold there, Your Grace,” he says as he catches up. “I want to reassure you that my marriage does not mean I will deny Miss Campbell her friendships.”
“But?” I reply, studying the flash of expressions across his face.
“But you must understand that Henhaven is a far cry away from London, or even Whiteport where your sisters will reside in the Off Season. I cannot guarantee that she will be available, nor will I be able to indulge her traveling across such distances. Especially once the weather turns. It will be unsafe.”
A soft growl vibrates in my throat as I step closer. “Is that a veiled threat, my lord? I do not take kindly to such whether they are aimed at me or my family.”
“Not a threat. More like a caution. A lot will change for Cynthia once she is my bride. I would so appreciate your family’s help in preparing her for this massive transition.”
Red nearly tinges my vision as I step back, desperate to get myself under control at the use of her name. “And Miss Campbell has given you permission to refer to her so casually?” I ask as my fingers grip into fists.
“She is to be my wife, Your Grace. Within a matter of weeks, I’ll know her more intimately than just her name.”
With that, he turns and walks down the stones, leaving me there as I watch him.
Bastard. He knows how his words must cut.
The blackguard wields them as skillfully as Lewis does his blade.
Seething, I follow behind to give my mother and sisters the message.
From there, I must find something on him, anything.
Unfortunately, by the time I make it back to my study, I find myself so wroth I can barely think.
How is one to compete when the enemy is scandal itself?
I have my hands tied. To ruin her would be to also ruin her name and family.
It would also destroy Henhaven. Not that I don’t relish the idea of bringing him low, but if he is a just man, it would be needlessly cruel.
Damn him.
Damn honor.
Most of all, damn my brother for denouncing her from the very beginning.
I should have pressed forward, bringing my suit before her father long before now. If only I didn’t worship the very ground my brother walked on. If only I had chosen her over honor and title. If only… Now I am to pay the consequences.
With a sigh, I sit down to craft several notes. If I am to break up this engagement in a proper way, I must have my allies. As I sit there, scribbling missives, the footman knocks and enters, setting a stack of letters at the edge of my desk.
Once I finish, I flip through them until one makes my heart stop cold. The blackmailer. In all of this, I had forgotten about them. Tearing open the letter, I stare down at it, my heart thumping hard in my chest. Such a simple message. So short, yet so cutting.
My Dearest Norhaven,
Does it hurt?
Does it sting?
Watching your love engaged to another must be an agony worse than death.
I would say I mourn for you, but I cannot find it in me to shed one tear.
Your Rosy Thorn in Your Side