Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Uncle Charlie's Angels Book 1) Page 11

  “Not much longer, sweetheart,” she crooned to the dog as another tremor shook his small body.

  “He couldn’t be cold, could he?” Mr. Vistoire’s hairline was damp from exertion, causing his dark brown hair to curl at the ends.

  “No, he is melodramatic.”

  Cupid was being especially uncooperative with his bath, and she was grateful Mr. Vistoire had insisted on helping her. “Ah, he has a future on stage. That explains why he’s behaving like a diva.”

  She sent a sidelong glance toward him where he knelt beside her and rinsed her hands in the water. “Have you known many divas?”

  “A couple, as well as several actresses.”

  Cupid made another attempt to bolt from the tub, but Mr. Vistoire’s strong hands clamped around his sides to thwart the dog’s plans. Lean, golden brown muscles bulged in Mr. Vistoire’s forearms, and water droplets clung to the dusting of dark hair. Her gaze followed the map of veins traveling up his arms, disappearing beneath his rolled up shirtsleeves. The sensuous display of masculinity held her as still as the dog.

  “Are you ready to rinse?” he asked, spurring her into action.

  “Tip his head up.” She grabbed the small pail and carefully poured clean water over Cupid, avoiding his eyes. Once the suds were washed away, she pushed to her feet to retrieve a bath sheet that was draped over the bench. She held out her arms to take Cupid. Mr. Vistoire surrendered the dripping dog, and she swaddled him in the bath sheet, cuddling him like an infant.

  Mr. Vistoire rubbed the dog’s head with an end of the bath sheet, standing close enough for his scent to tease her. Hints of bergamot and cocoa, and something spicy she couldn’t identify.

  “Why didn’t you join your aunt and sister at Lady Chattington’s garden party?” he asked. “You obviously were not waiting around for me to call.”

  She sat on the bench and hugged the little dog to soothe him, and perhaps herself. Her legs were shaking as much as Cupid was. “I see no reason to attend social gatherings unless Sophia needs a companion.”

  “Why not?” He joined her on the bench, foiling her attempt to put distance between them.

  “Because I am not looking for a husband.”

  “Hmm...” He reached to scratch Cupid’s chin, his thigh pressing against hers. “Have you always wanted to remain unmarried?”

  She shrugged. “Not always.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I’m not sure, but I have made my decision. Aunt Beatrice never married, and she is happy with her circumstances. I will be as well.”

  “You don’t want to have children?” He nodded toward Cupid, who she still held like he was a babe. “You are a natural caretaker.”

  A pang throbbed in the center of her chest, but it was gone in an instant. “I will take care of my family. Aunt Beatrice requires some assistance now, and eventually Uncle Charles will need someone to manage his household and see that he his cared for.”

  Mr. Vistoire’s head almost touched hers as he stretched to scratch behind Cupid’s ears. The dog closed his eyes and blissfully panted. “And what about after your great-aunt and your uncle are gone? Will you live alone?”

  Alone? Her stomach clenched, and she forced her thoughts away from Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Charles growing old and leaving her some day.

  “I will help Sophia. She will make a match and have children. My sister will welcome me if I need a new home some day.” She hoped Sophia’s future husband would as well. “What about you? You must be thirty.”

  “Nine and twenty, but I lost two years, so theoretically, I’m younger than my age.”

  “How does anyone lose two years? That makes no sense.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it? Perhaps your own nonsensical reasoning is influencing my thinking.”

  “My reasoning is perfectly rational.”

  “If you say it is...”

  “I do, and I think you are still suffering the effects of bumping your head.” She swiveled toward him on the bench. “Why have you never married, Mr. Vistoire? Even before adjusting your age due to misplacing a couple of years, you were old enough to have a wife.”

  “True enough.” He retreated to his half of the bench to rest his hands on his thighs. “I didn’t have the funds to support a wife. My father disinherited me and left everything to my sister.”

  “Oh, dear. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  He waved away her concern. “You should know as much as possible about the man courting you. I don’t mind.”

  “You aren’t courting me.”

  “I am, but we will agree to disagree on that point.”

  She smiled even though she knew it would only encourage him. “No, we won’t. Why would your father disown you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “I wasn’t the son he wanted. I did not approach life with the appropriate amount of somberness, and I relied on my charm rather than hard work. That was his opinion of me.”

  She glanced at his ruined white trousers and smiled. “Well, you are charming, Mr. Vistoire, but the stains on your knees do not suggest laziness. In fact, it is rather uncouth in London for a gentleman to even give the appearance of having engaged in labor. I am grateful for your help, however.”

  He grinned. “I suppose I should have been born an English nobleman. Perhaps in my next life.”

  “Yes, you really must make better plans in the future.” Her smile faded as she considered what he’d shared. “If you were hoping to increase your wealth through marriage, I’m afraid you will be disappointed. My income is modest, but I must admit to enjoying having it at my disposal. I do not need a husband to make decisions on my behalf.”

  “And I’m not in need of a wealthy wife. After our father’s estate was settled, Serafine insisted on restoring what had been promised to me. The property, house, and its contents belong to me, but I couldn’t allow her to give away everything.”

  “You provided her with a dowry.”

  “We divided our father’s riches evenly. It is her fortune to use as she pleases.”

  Regina inhaled sharply in surprise. “To live independently?”

  “If she’d wanted to make that life for herself, I wouldn’t have stood in her way, but she wanted Isaac Tucker. Now she has Simon too, and she wants more children some day.”

  Regina really wished that blasted twinge in her heart would go away.

  “In the spirit of being completely honest,” he said, “I wasted most of my inheritance before I left New Orleans. I won back the majority of it at the gaming tables. In addition, my accounts earned interest over the last couple of years and increased substantially. I am solvent, and I plan to stay that way, so I’ve given up gambling. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t want you to fret over handing control of your inheritance to a man with my history. I wouldn’t ask you to surrender it if you agreed to become my wife.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t quite know how to respond to his candid revelation. The few gentlemen who had tried to court her had spent their time boasting of their accomplishments. Never once had any gentleman mentioned his shortcomings. “Thank you for your honesty.”

  “I know it is important, especially since the circumstances of our initial meeting were less than ideal.” He reached a hand toward Cupid, and the dog licked his fingers, but Xavier’s gaze was locked to her mouth. His scrutiny made her insides jittery and she swallowed hard. “Is he dry enough?” His voice had turned husky.

  “Your shirt is soaked. Uncle Charles will have one you may borrow.” She hopped from the bench. “I’ll retrieve it.”

  “I know the way.” He bounded to his feet, snatched his discarded attire, and followed her toward the house. “Why don’t you see that Cupid is settled, and I will change in your uncle’s chambers? If you don’t think he would mind.”

  They stopped just inside the town house’s rear door, and she allowed herself one more sweeping gaze of his torso. Uncle Charles wouldn’t be thrilled with the prospect of a strange
r in his bedchamber, but she couldn’t send Mr. Vistoire on his way with his shirt molded to every hard plane of his chest. She could even see a smattering of dark hair through the thin material. The neighbors would wonder what they had been up to, and if she’d learned one truth about the ton, it was that they had wicked imaginations.

  A prickly heat invaded her body as her own imagination took an inappropriate detour. “Very well, but please be quick. Aunt Beatrice and Sophia could return earlier than expected, and I don’t want my aunt to find you above stairs.”

  “I promise to do my best.” She caught the flash of a grin a heartbeat before he swooped down to place a peck on her cheek. She turned toward his kiss, but he withdrew and was brushing past her before she could get her bearings.

  Cupid scrambled to be released, so she placed him on the floor and went to find Cook in the kitchen.

  “Please prepare a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits,” she said. “I will be entertaining Mr. Vistoire in the drawing room.”

  Cook’s eyes flew open wide when she caught sight of Regina.

  Regina brushed a hand over the large dark splotch on her gown as if she could erase it. “I should change gowns first.”

  “Yes, miss. I will put the kettle over the fire.”

  “Thank you.”

  She made one more trip to the library to enlist Evangeline to join them for tea, then hurried to her chamber to change before Mr. Vistoire was dressed and began to look for her below stairs. She chose an apron front gown in peach for the ease and rushed from her chambers only to discover Uncle Charles’s door was still closed. Moving closer, she listened for sounds coming from within and heard the squeak of a drawer followed by a quick slam. What in the world was Mr. Vistoire doing in there?

  She rapped on the door. “Were you able to find something to fit? Do you need assistance?”

  “Oui. One moment, s'il vous plaît.”

  Muffled sounds continued to emanate from behind the door. He was taking much longer than she’d anticipated. She knocked again.

  “Mr. Vistoire, please come out. Aunt Beatrice and—”

  The door swung inward suddenly, and he was there in the threshold. Much too close and every bit as handsome dressed in a shirt that was too big for him. She peered into the chamber. “Did you find everything you needed?”

  He frowned slightly and held up his damp shirt. “I’m unsure what to do with my soiled one. Carrying it across town would look conspicuous.”

  “Oh! I will take it and make sure it is laundered. Joy will deliver it after laundry day.” He passed the wet garment to her, then waited in the corridor until she’d returned from placing it in her chambers.

  Evangeline met them downstairs. Regina had just poured tea into the Limoges cups when Aunt Beatrice and Sophia returned home. Aunt Beatrice made a fuss over Mr. Vistoire’s visit, declaring it a pleasant surprise indeed and sent Sophia for two more teacups and saucers, so they could join the small party.

  Regina sat back to observe Mr. Vistoire with her family. He was charming—she couldn’t deny it—but he was also genuinely kind to her sisters and aunt. By the end of his call, she had begun to feel more at ease in his presence.

  She and Aunt Beatrice saw him to the door. With his hat in hand, he addressed Regina’s aunt. “Miss Allred, I would be honored if you and your nieces would join my family and me for a picnic lunch in the park tomorrow.”

  Aunt Beatrice beamed. “How lovely. We accept.”

  Regina rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t truly put out with him for using Aunt Beatrice to circumvent her. She had enjoyed his company today. If he’d extended the invitation to her, she might have accepted, although her position on marriage had not budged—not much, anyway. His mention of children had caused her to sway a bit, but it had been a momentary lapse.

  “Good afternoon, sir.”

  “Good day, Miss Darlington.” He gallantly took her hand to place a kiss on her lace glove. “Until tomorrow.”

  Fourteen

  Xavier returned to his sister’s town house to change clothes after the pleasant and somewhat productive afternoon spent in Miss Darlington’s company.

  Pleasant because she hadn’t slammed the door in his face. Somewhat productive since he’d been able to steer their conversation toward marriage without her trying to drown him in the washtub.

  They shared an undeniable attraction, and even though she couldn’t see it yet, their temperaments were well suited. He didn’t want a wife molded into a proper miss. He wanted one who delighted him with her uncensored views and independent pursuits. Regina was a type of lady he hadn’t known existed.

  Given enough time, he expected he could prove himself trustworthy and break through her resistance to marriage. Unfortunately, time was not a luxury he had. Perhaps he should tell her the true reason he’d broken into Wedmore House—despite the threats made to her and her family—and pray she would see the wisdom in coming under his protection.

  He would have to tell her eventually if he hoped to have the type of marriage he desired, but he worried she would use his confession to support her unfavorable opinion of him and toss him from Wedmore House. He couldn’t risk losing the small gains made today when time was running out. On the other hand, he could lose her forever if he made the wrong decision.

  There was much to mull over before the picnic. He’d fabricated the outing on the spot and hoped his sister would agree to it without giving him too much grief. He would introduce the topic over dinner, but he wished to pay an early visit to Covent Gardens to ask about an actress he’d befriended two years ago.

  He didn’t know if Claudine Bellerose had remained in London after his disappearance—for her sake, he hoped she hadn’t—but if she’d stayed, she might have overheard something that could lead him to the person responsible for his incarceration.

  Serafine spotted him as he reached the ground floor and passed the drawing room. “Are you leaving again?”

  Xavier stopped short then returned to stand at the threshold. His sister was perched on the edge of an upholstered chair, her back as rigid as if her spine had been replaced with a lightening rod. A leather bound book rested on her lap. Her husband Isaac’s blond head remained bent over his desk where he was carefully marking lines on a large sheet of paper.

  Over breakfast, Serafine had explained how Isaac’s family disowned him when he married her, so he had discovered a way to earn his keep and support his wife and child without his father’s fortune. He had become a draftsman in secret, adopting an alias to keep his identity hidden. Isaac Tucker posed as the go-between for the reclusive and highly acclaimed Mr. Dixon and the gentlemen who wished to hire him. Since Isaac had no part in handling money, he maintained a respectable standing in Society for Serafine and Simon’s welfare. The more Xavier learned of his brother-in-law, the more he respected the man.

  “I have an errand to tend,” Xavier said. “I will be back before dinner.”

  “An errand?” Her thin brows rose on her forehead. “You were out all afternoon. Why didn’t you see to your business earlier?”

  Years ago, the suspicion in her tone would have instigated a row between them. Now her inquiry caused a bittersweet smile to cross his face. Two years with no contact altered his view of her interest in his affairs. She was worried. He came into the drawing room to sit for a moment to show his values had changed. He was no longer the reprobate who chose sinful pleasures over his family. He would never be that man again.

  Isaac glanced up from his drawing. “Would you like a private moment together?”

  Serafine shook her head. “You should be aware that I keep nothing from Isaac,” she said to Xavier.

  “Nor would I ask you to.” Xavier flashed his most disarming smile. “I did not attend to my business earlier, because I was otherwise engaged. Last night I met a young woman. Miss Darlington.”

  His sister’s eyes expanded. “Oh?”

  “Do you recall I partnered with an older woman for the waltz? Miss Dar
lington is her niece.”

  “Yes, I know of both ladies.” Her back lost some of its stiffness and her lips turned up slightly at the corners. “I didn’t see you speaking with her. In fact, I lost sight of you for a while.”

  “I lingered in the refreshment room for a time. We must have missed one another.” He cleared his throat and reassured himself that lying to protect a lady’s reputation was less damning than one told for personal gain. “Miss Darlington and I find we have much in common, and she was agreeable to me calling on her this afternoon.”

  A full smile lit Serafine’s face. “How lovely. Will you call on her again?”

  “Mmm,” he muttered vaguely while he debated when to tell his sister about committing her to an outing without having consulted her. If he dallied much longer, the actresses would be ready to go on stage, and he would have to wait to ask after Claudine. But his sister appeared so hopeful that he might be settling down, and he wanted to please her. “I’m afraid I overstepped my bounds and invited Miss Darlington and her family to join us for a picnic tomorrow. I should have spoken to you first, but—”

  Serafine held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t mind. We haven’t picnicked together since before Mother died. I will look forward to it.”

  “As will I,” Isaac said, “and Simon loves the park, as I am sure you discovered this morning.”

  Xavier was surprised by how quickly the boy had taken to him. Serafine believed talking about Xavier since Simon was a babe had played a role. Sixteen months seem too young for the boy to grasp a word of what Xavier’s sister had likely said about him, but Serafine was happy they got on well. And so was Xavier.

  “Then it is settled,” Xavier said, smacking his hands against his thighs before pushing to his feet. “As I mentioned earlier, I have an errand to run, so if you will excuse me...”

  “Of course.” Serafine lifted her book to continue reading. “Be certain to choose something nice for Miss Darlington.”

  A gift was a splendid suggestion. Make it two errands. He bade his sister and her husband good-bye then secured a hack to carry him to the theatre.