Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Uncle Charlie's Angels Book 1)

  Dedication

  I’m blessed to have many amazing and supportive people surrounding me who encourage me to believe in my vision and see it through to the end. I’m so grateful to my family, friends, and talented fellow authors, but this book is dedicated to you, my reader. Thank you for laughing, crying, fanning yourself, and smiling along the way. And thank you even more for reaching out to me and sharing what my books mean to you. I am truly touched by your generous spirits.

  Coded Message

  Received in London on 22 February 1820

  jtfqghugsigmksxlrymuetrkuivkxrxzmwmdvviwkfxzvpwgtwwrqlfyxrmhamiveklwghpwchlmoppxlmksqcndghfivzsweiliupwkewejpigaviuwwltpcjhdxrppjwmisplvdlhfbivymksxrthuragvzyieicechftnsvzdivrthzetxsdyifmilpgvgbaeteioqgaakzhzlalivnizopruzqmntwjhlaibffdzwahlzsjhuchwrzvyevlvqtmisjdqetdxyhqllpruwwfogvfzigdwsghbhhpzvwpbssigowkaqpvwilkqiylvwmtekoiltxjzvphuahghzbswmewpxlxrvrnwuiczzqelwscgiilpgviwkydyzqpxlalzvutjtwkb’aeonecvmkvprkvqkjdrrwptnwetnjxrgc

  Deciphered Message

  Upon your orders, I have been tracking Wedmore for five months, and my investigation has led to Algiers by way of Tripoli. Wedmore has managed to stay several steps ahead of me ever since my arrival in Alexandria. A credible source placed the earl in Algiers a week ago and witnessed him board a ship bound for Cyprus. I am to sail to the island tomorrow and hope to have this deplorable task behind me at last. If I should perish in the line of duty, I will hold a place for you in hell.

  His Majesty’s loyal servant,

  Sir Jonathan Hackberry

  One

  It is with great joy my dear Matthew and I have welcomed our first child. She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld. Matthew says it is impossible to determine a child’s redeeming qualities when she is only days old, but it should be obvious to anyone with eyes that our daughter is meant to lead, not follow. Therefore, with my loving husband’s blessing, I have bestowed upon her the name Regina, in honor of the Queen of Angels.

  From the diary of Isabelle Darlington

  November 1797

  April 1820

  In Regina Darlington’s third and final Season on the marriage mart, she’d discovered a most unfortunate fact. When Uncle Charles was away, the rakehells came out to play.

  Her guardian often traveled in his quest for antiquities, leaving Regina and her two younger sisters under their elderly great-aunt’s care, but he hadn’t met them in London as planned, and he hadn’t missed a Season since before Regina’s debut.

  Despite Aunt Beatrice’s reassurances that her nephew had likely forgotten to consult the calendar to insure his timely arrival, Regina was worried. Or she would be if the scoundrels sniffing around her skirts would allow her a moment of quiet to work herself into a proper dither. They were sorely trying her patience, none more so than the deplorable rake leering at her from Uncle Charles’s favorite wingback chair.

  Lord Geoffrey sprawled on the furniture with the insolence born of a duke’s second son, stroking the ivory damask upholstery with his long tapered fingers. His eyes narrowed at the corners and glinted with amusement when she sat up taller on the settee beside her aunt and squared her shoulders.

  Only the clicking of Aunt Beatrice’s knitting needles disrupted the tense silence. The cur hadn’t spoken beyond the obligatory exchanging of pleasantries upon his arrival, not that he needed to utter a word. Regina knew the reason he’d called, and he wasn’t searching for a wife.

  Last night during the waltz, he’d tried to shock her by whispering the vilest words into her ear. A lady with less fortitude might have required smelling salts. Regina simply had abandoned him mid-dance and given him the cut direct in the park this morning. Nevertheless, here he was, imposing his unwelcome company on her and her aunt.

  Untroubled by Aunt Beatrice’s presence beside her on the settee or Regina’s glowers, Lord Geoffrey leisurely swept his gaze over Regina’s body. He paused on her bust line and squeezed the arm of the chair a few times.

  She cleared her throat in censorship, and a cunning grin spread across his face. He was proving to be wretchedly hard to discourage—at least by the usual means available to a lady. She would love catching him by surprise with one of the ancient warrior moves she’d learned from Uncle Charles. Perhaps then Lord Lewd would think twice about attempting to shocking young ladies at the assemblies or fondling unsuspecting furniture.

  “I detect a rare smile from you,” he said, victory lighting his pale blue eyes. “I will accept it as evidence of your pleasure to see me.”

  “I would expect nothing less of you, my lord.” Regina remained stiff-backed on the edge of the settee and schooled her expression. Her smile had not been intended for him, but for all the innocents she would save from his loathsome company if she were allowed to humble him with a well-placed kick to his person.

  Just as he’d ignored her previous rejections, he glossed over the pointed reminder she found him insufferably arrogant. “I expect I could win more smiles on a stroll through the park.”

  “I expect you could not, my lord.”

  His blond brows arched in challenge. “It sounds as if we are on the verge of a wager.”

  Regina notched her chin, ignoring the whispers of her competitive nature to prove him wrong. She had no desire to engage with him in whatever game he seemed to be playing.

  Lord Geoffrey leaned forward as if anticipating her acceptance. “What is your answer, dearest? Will you allow my escort through the park?”

  Aunt Beatrice looked up from her knitting as if just now hearing any part of the conversation and blinked in Lord Geoffrey’s direction. “A breath of fresh air would do you good, young man,” she said to the marble bust on the pedestal to his left. “I’ve never seen such a pasty face in all my life. Allow me to retrieve my walking stick and bonnet, and we may be on our way.”

  Regina swallowed the half-laugh, half-groan rising at the back of her throat. Aunt Beatrice had her heart set on finding Regina a husband, and a duke’s son, no matter how boorish he was, would be considered a good catch by many. She refused to accept Regina would be happiest following her example. Aunt Beatrice had never married, but she seemed perfectly content with her life. And so was Regina. She saw no reason to make a change, especially when her great-aunt and Uncle Charles would both need someone to care for them eventually.

  “Regina?” Aunt Beatrice smiled fondly at her and reached to pat her knee, underestimating the distance. At the slight widening of her aunt’s eyes, Regina captured her hand where it landed on the velvet pillow and pressed it reassuringly between her own palms.

  “I am here, Auntie.”

  “Yes, here you are, my darling.” She raised Regina’s hands to place a kiss on her glove. “You should run along to engage in your exercises while Lord Geoffrey and I take a turn around the park.”

  “Oh?” Either Aunt Beatrice was up to no good, or she was losing her mind as well as her eyesight. “You and Lord Geoffrey alone?”

  “Of course, dear. I hardly require an escort at my age.” She pulled her hand free and made a shooing motion. “Now, do run along. I am anxious to see how many smiles the young man can win from me.”

  Lord Geoffrey sputtered. “I believe there has been a misunderstanding, Mrs. Allred.”

  “Miss Allred. I never married, but I promised myself long ago if the right man came along...” Aunt Beatrice waggled her eyebrows in his direction—or perhaps she was flirting with the sculpture at Lord Geoffrey’s shoulder.

  Lord Geoffrey shifted on the seat, tossing a wide-eyed look at Regina as if begging for assistance as she fought to control the laughter bubbling up inside
her. When he found no help forthcoming, he surged to his feet. “Miss Allred, please forgive my sudden change of plans. I’ve only now recalled an appointment with my solicitor.”

  As he dashed for the door, he collided with the housekeeper coming through the threshold. Mrs. Cox, red-faced and glistening with sweat, spared a brief scowl for Lord Geoffrey before appealing to Aunt Beatrice. “Ma’am, you must come quickly. Cupid is loose in the square, and Mr. Burgess has twisted his ankle giving chase.”

  “Oh, dear. Not again.”

  Regina popped up from the settee. “I will retrieve him.”

  “No, he will think having you chase him around the mulberry bush is a grand amusement.” Aunt Beatrice wiggled to the edge of the settee and rose with an exasperated huff. “He will come to me if I call for him.”

  Cupid, Aunt Beatrice’s incorrigible black toy poodle, had the run of the house. And the neighborhood. He was quick to come to Aunt Beatrice because she always rewarded his naughtiness with a piece of fatty ham. Not that Regina and her sisters spoiled him any less. It was impossible to resist his adorable black eyes and heart melting whimpers.

  Aunt Beatrice bustled from the drawing room with Mrs. Cox leading the way. Regina hurried to the open window behind the settee to see if her help was really needed and discovered their butler seated on the grass with his leg drawn up to inspect his ankle. Cupid zipped from under the bush, bit Burgess’s pants leg, and shook it. Burgess yelped and flailed his arm side to side, trying to catch the fur ball, but Cupid ran in a fast circle out of his reach.

  Burgess bared his teeth. “You blasted hound of hell!”

  Cupid followed suit, baring his own teeth before launching into a high-pitched bark.

  Regina sighed over the antics outside. “Just another day at Wedmore House.”

  “It’s a damned madhouse.”

  Regina startled at the sound of Lord Geoffrey’s honeyed voice at her ear. She spun toward him. “My lord, I thought you were leaving.”

  “So did I, but Cupid saw fit for us to be alone.” He leaned closer, a lascivious grin easing across his face. “At last.” His breath smelled strongly of spirits and made her nose wrinkle.

  “I have no desire to be alone with you.” She backed away to put distance between them. “You should go.”

  “Don’t be coy, Miss Darlington. I am twice the man Neil Lawrence is.”

  Regina blinked in confusion. She’d danced with Mr. Lawrence twice last Season on two separate occasions. What connection could the bashful young man possibly have with the rake prowling toward her? “You are making no sense, and I have asked you to leave.”

  “Did you believe Lawrence was capable of keeping a secret, dearest?” The feverish gleam in Lord Geoffrey’s eyes caused an icy shudder to pass through her. She took another step away, her muscles tensing in anticipation of a fight. “Word has spread about your kiss, and he assured the gents you approached the endeavor with great enthusiasm.”

  Anger flared inside her. “If Mr. Lawrence said we shared a kiss, he is a liar. You and your cohorts are fools to listen to him.”

  “I always knew you had hidden passion waiting to be discovered.”

  She rolled her eyes, not caring that her behavior was rude. Lord Geoffrey had crossed the line of propriety the moment he walked into Wedmore House with the intention of seducing her. When he took another step in her direction, she held up a finger in warning.

  “You have outstayed your welcome, my lord.”

  He halted his pursuit, as any well-bred gentleman should.

  With a relieved sigh, she turned her back to lead him from the room. “Allow me to show you to the door.”

  “I decide when I go. Come here.” He threw his arm around her neck.

  Regina’s instincts leapt into action. She grasped his forearm before he could get a good hold, ducked low, and flipped him around her body to knock him off balance. He landed on his side with a grunt and started flopping like a fish.

  She wrenched his arm behind him just enough to get his attention, but if he moved an inch, he would feel a stab of pain in his shoulder. “Be still before you hurt yourself.”

  “Go to the devil!” He gasped, quickly discovering movement was ill advised.

  She frowned down at his red face. In some circles, she supposed he was considered handsome, but his soft features were too boyish for her tastes, not to mention his morals were on par with an earthworm’s.

  And he cursed like a sailor.

  “Language, my lord. A lady is present.”

  He snarled. “I see no lady. Do you know what I see?” The tips of her ears began to burn from the fount of nasty insults that followed.

  “Regina, darling,” Aunt Beatrice called from the foyer.

  “Quiet,” Regina said. When a litany of curses continued to pour from Lord Geoffrey, she placed her foot against his neck, effectively convincing him to fall silent. “Behave and I will release you in a moment.”

  Aunt Beatrice entered the drawing room with Cupid cradled against her chest and bumped her shoulder into the doorjamb.

  Regina hissed in sympathy. “Are you all right, Auntie?”

  Her aunt flicked her hand dismissively and didn’t acknowledge that she had misjudged the location of the doorway. “The good boy came to me just as I predicted.”

  Regina flashed a smile from her place behind the settee and held tightly to Lord Geoffrey. Wisely, he remained silent. “And Burgess?”

  “He threatened to resign again, but I expect he will come around in a day or two.” Aunt Beatrice frowned and looked around the drawing room. “What happened to Lord Geoffrey? Did he take his leave?”

  The settee blocked Aunt Beatrice’s view of him, although Regina’s aunt might not see him even if he were laid out at her feet. “I am afraid so. I don’t expect he will be returning either.”

  Aunt Beatrice’s grin was positively wicked. “Excellent news. We have no use for his kind at Wedmore House. Was it a trick of my eyes, or was he the palest lecher you have ever seen?”

  Regina glanced at Lord Geoffrey’s crimson face. “I didn’t notice.”

  Cupid’s curly ears flattened on his head, and a guttural growl rumbled in his small chest. Clearly, he hadn’t missed the strange man lying on the carpet. The little dog scrambled to break free of Aunt Beatrice’s hold.

  “No, no.” Aunt Beatrice shook her finger in his face. “You have been a naughty boy today. Let’s see if there is a piece of ham in the kitchen.”

  Cupid perked up at the mention of his favorite treat, and Aunt Beatrice carried him from the room without incident.

  Regina looked down at Lord Geoffrey with no hint of mirth. “I am going to release you in a moment, but allow me to reassure you, it is no accident you are in this position. If you attempt to accost me again, I’m afraid I will be unable to practice the same level of restraint.”

  She removed her foot from his neck, released his wrist, and moved to a safe distance. Lord Geoffrey winced as he unwound his body and pushed to his feet. He glowered once more. “If anyone hears about this...”

  No doubt, he meant to sound threatening to ensure she kept quiet about their encounter, but his bark lacked bite at this point.

  “I will not utter a word.” She smiled pleasantly. “As long as you keep your distance from my family and me.”

  “You and your kin are insane,” he spat, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Keep your mouth shut about today, or I swear to you, I will ruin you all.”

  Lord Geoffrey’s threat sobered her. His father, the Duke of Stanhurst, was an influential man. She might not care about making a marriage match for herself, but her youngest sister had dreamed of her wedding day since she was a girl.

  Regina swallowed hard. “I promise to tell no one, my lord.”

  He hurled another insult at her and stomped from the drawing room. Regina’s stomach twisted in knots. She hadn’t meant to jeopardize Sophia’s future, but she’d needed to defend herself.

  “Ludwig!�
�� Regina collapsed on the settee and sank into the plush cushions. Now that she knew the reason for the rakes dogging her heels, the Season had gone from merely a bother to a nightmare. She’d done nothing wrong, and yet the thought of confiding in her sisters or Aunt Beatrice caused her cheeks to burn with shame.

  Her fingers curled into fists. How dare Mr. Lawrence tell false tales about her? If she crossed paths with the blackguard any time soon, she would be sorely tempted to throttle him in full view of the ton at large. If someone was going to ruin her reputation, she preferred to do it herself. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be the only one to suffer, which left her in a bit of a bind. Not only did she have Mr. Lawrence’s lies to contend with, she had to figure out how to avoid Lord Geoffrey.

  It was fortuitous she and her family were planning an evening at home. The quiet would allow her time to think of an acceptable excuse to bow out of Lady Eldridge’s annual ball tomorrow night. It remained to be seen if she was creative enough to fabricate an excuse to miss every other event of the Season.

  Two

  In the middle of Xavier Vistoire’s morning exercises, the old rooster began crowing in the farmyard outside. Even with the window boarded in his prison cell, he couldn’t avoid the obnoxious sound.

  Lamplight illuminated the slanted walls of the attic. He couldn’t stand upright in some parts, but it certainly wasn’t the worst place Xavier had ever spent a night. Nevertheless, he’d welcome the chance to wake in an alley with a terrible case of cottonmouth, a skull-splitting headache, and the freedom to make bad decisions all over again.

  Xavier paused in his exercise, holding himself parallel to the plank floor. “Benny, wake up” he yelled to his gaoler who was snoring just outside the attic door. “It’s time to milk the cow.”

  A drawn out groan filtered under the door, and he imagined Benny stretching his massive frame to release the kinks he must have from spending the night on the stairs. “I’m not asleep,” he mumbled.