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

  “She looked pale. Perhaps even slightly green around the gills.” He tugged her in the direction of the veranda doors. “Please, allow me to offer my assistance. I will take you to her.”

  Regina planted her feet, dragging him to a stop, then smiled sweetly. “Heavens! I almost forgot Aunt Beatrice isn’t here this evening. Auntie must have a mirror image trotting around tonight.”

  His pale blue eyes darkened to the color of the stormy sea. “You are without a keeper.” Perhaps it was her imagination, but she would swear he’d licked his chops.

  “No, my lord. Lady Seabrook is my chaperone, and she is keeping close watch over my sisters and me.” She nodded toward Sophia’s dearest friend’s mother, a red-faced matron who had positioned herself in front of the veranda doors.

  Lord Nayland waved and the woman’s eyebrow arched in censorship. None of her charges were being whisked outside without going through her first. At a little under six feet tall, the lady’s wrath caused many to tremble in fear. Lady Seabrook was Viking by heritage and only a fool would engage in battle with her. Her weapons might be mere words, but she could cut another down to size as effectively as if she wielded a sword and shield.

  Lord Nayland’s mouth set in a grim line, and she suspected he found the countess to be more bother than threat. He turned to Regina to lift her hand to his lips then bade her farewell. Lady Seabrook came forward as soon as he disappeared into the crowd.

  “Was the baron bothering you? Should I request my husband have a word with him?”

  Regina smiled in gratitude. “Thank you, my lady, but there is no need to trouble the earl.”

  “Especially when Miss Darlington’s betrothed has arrived.” Xavier’s familiar accent created gooseflesh along Regina’s arms, and she wheeled toward him with a thready gasp.

  Lady Seabrook stepped forward to stand beside Regina and raised her quizzing glass to inspect him. “Miss Darlington is betrothed? To whom?”

  Xavier flashed his easy smile. “To the lucky gentleman standing before you, my lady. I was smitten from the moment I saw Miss Darlington, and I am honored she has accepted my proposal.”

  Regina linked arms with him, savoring his warmth against her side. “Please allow me to make introductions. Lady Seabrook, may I present Mr. Xavier Vistoire, my fiancé?”

  “Indeed.” A rare sign of pleasure spread across Lady Seabrook’s face, plumping her high cheeks. “What an unexpected and wonderful surprise. Does my daughter know?”

  “We’ve told no one aside from family and you,” Regina said. “It is all very new, so we haven’t had an opportunity to share our happy news.”

  “May I help spread the word?” Lady Seabrook asked with a hopeful arch to her pale blond brows.

  “We would be grateful, my lady,” Xavier said. His dark green gaze bore into Regina, and he lowered his voice for her ears only. “Every blackguard in Town needs to know you are mine.”

  Twenty-five

  Xavier pressed his clenched fist against his thigh and glowered at any man who dared to look at Regina as he escorted her to the refreshment room. Every bloody rake in attendance deserved a beating, and probably several others swarming about Town like locust did too. He would happily deliver facers to every one if doing so wouldn’t spark questions from Regina that he didn’t wish to answer. Even though she was aware the vermin were talking about her, she shouldn’t have to know what they were saying.

  When he had arrived at the ball, he stopped inside the great room’s arched doorway to search for her. A group of men had gathered at the edge of the dance floor while the orchestra tuned their instruments between sets. As one would expect, they had come together to crow about their latest adventures—a successful run at the Hazard table, a reckless horse race through Hyde Park, a front row view of a boxing match. He recognized his old self in many of their stories, but he no longer cared about frivolous past times. Losing everything made him realize what was truly important. If he had family and friends, he was a wealthy man.

  “How did you fare with the Fallen Angel?” one of the gents had asked another.

  “One point for signing her dance card and another because it was a waltz. I almost earned five more for squeezing that luscious bum, but she blocked my attempt. She is quicker than I anticipated.”

  Xavier had jeered them under his breath, disgusted by their childish game.

  A third man joined the conversation. “How many points will I earn for bedding her tonight?”

  The others had guffawed and declared him fit for Bedlam. Xavier had intended to move further away so he need not listen to their obnoxious braying when he overheard something that made his blood boil.

  A blond fellow with hair falling into his eyes had emerged from the pack. “It is my turn, and soon you will eat your words. Miss Darlington is as good as conquered.”

  Xavier wished he had punched the scoundrel then and there, but he hadn’t wanted to focus attention on the men’s sport. Now, he tried to shake off the memory and drew Regina closer. He would be damned if another man touched her. Any conquering would involve the two of them only, and it would be mutual. She was his. He was hers. And he was half mad with jealousy, which was a novel and unwelcome state for him.

  Leaving her side only long enough to retrieve a glass of lemonade, he handed it to her. She wore an embroidered white muslin gown that most would describe as modest, but the sheerness of the fabric hinted at her peaches and cream skin hidden underneath.

  “Thank you.” She accepted the drink with a bemused smile. “Would you like to walk with me?”

  He nodded sharply. She took a sip of her drink before leading him on a leisurely circle around the perimeter of the room. Several times, Regina slanted a glance at him from beneath her lashes that was likely unintentionally seductive, but it aroused him all the same.

  “Do you have something you would like to discuss, Miss Darlington?”

  “I’m uncertain engaging in anything besides banal chitchat would be wise considering we are now on display.”

  “What do you mean?” He tore his gaze from her to look about the room and realized several pairs of eyes were following them. “I suppose word of our engagement is making the rounds.”

  A pink blush infused her skin, and her blond lashes fluttered. “Yes, that would stir a bit of interest, although I suspect the way you have been devouring me with your heated looks has the gossips giddy.”

  “Was I devouring you, love? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You know exactly what you are doing, Mr. Vistoire, and I’d thank you to stop.” She paused in front of a deserted alcove and frowned at him. “After your insistence that we not give the impression we have made a love match, I’m surprised by your predatory behavior.”

  Her rebuke sobered him. “Quite right.” He cleared his throat and gazed out at the crowd as he wrestled his jealousy into submission. “I spoke with Farrin today, so he knows of our engagement. Nevertheless, I will strive to behave more like a gentleman to protect the secrets of my heart.”

  She gazed at him oddly as if she didn’t believe he cared for her.

  “Would you like to stand up with me for the next set,” he asked, “or would you prefer to savor your lemonade?”

  “I believe I have a prior commitment.” She lifted her dance card to inspect it. “Yes, I’ve promised a quadrille to Mr. Quincy next, but I saved one dance for you as you wished.”

  Xavier extended his hand to take her lemonade. She passed it to him, and he placed both of their glasses on an end table inside the alcove. “May I see your dance card?”

  She smiled sweetly and complied with his request. Instead of signing his name in the empty slot, however, he reached to untie the ribbon securing the card to her wrist, stalked to the nearest unlit fireplace, and tossed it in the grate.

  She gawked as he returned to her side.

  “For heaven’s sake, I need that.”

  When she tried to march to the fireplace to retrieve the card, he seized her abo
ve the elbow. She pointedly scowled at his fingers loosely circling her flesh. He wasn’t hurting her and she could easily free herself, but he gentled his touch anyway.

  His mouth was tight when he smiled. “Dancing with these...gentlemen will give them false hope.”

  She glanced at the card teetering on the pile of birch logs. “But I promised.”

  Linking arms, he urged her away from the ornate gilded fireplace. She huffed but abandoned her dance card to walk with him.

  “They will still claim their dances,” she grumbled.

  “And we will inform them of our betrothal.”

  She darted a sideways look at him, opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

  Having put enough distance between them and the fireplace, Xavier turned to face her. “Do you have more to say, Miss Darlington?”

  “I—no.” Her tongue flicked over her lips, leaving them moist and kissable. “Well, perhaps there is one item to discuss. I think I should honor my word to the gentlemen who signed my dance card.”

  His gaze narrowed on her fingers toying with the cameo locket around her neck. He couldn’t make sense of her insistence on dancing with the blackguards. Not when she’d indignantly accused him of being no better than these rakes trying to seduce her. He suspected her changed position had nothing to do with enjoying their company. “What do you have up your sleeve, Miss Darlington?”

  “I am barely wearing sleeves, Mr. Vistoire.” She arched a haughty eyebrow as if daring him to contradict her.

  Her stubbornness made him grind his teeth, but when he spoke, he did so with controlled politeness. “Perhaps my understanding of English adages is faulty, ma chérie. Allow me to clarify. What machinations do you have at work this evening?”

  She sniffed. “If you are insinuating I am hiding something, you insult me.”

  Evangeline entered the refreshment room and stopped to look around. She spotted them then headed in their direction. Regina tried to discreetly send a signal to her sister with a quick slash of her hand through the air, but Xavier seemed to be the only one to notice.

  “I have spoken with every aging lord in attendance,” Evangeline said without pause. “None of them seem to know anything about Uncle Charles’s newest interest. He hasn’t written to his close associates either. The entire affair is peculiar. Did you learn anything from Lord Nayland?”

  Regina sighed. “Evangeline, do you ever stop to consider your audience before speaking?”

  Her sister blinked several times, looking back and forth between him and Regina. “I thought Mr. Vistoire knew about the—” She swept a quick glance around them and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He knows about the map already. I didn’t realize the rest was to be kept secret.”

  “The rest?” Xavier asked as Regina groaned under her breath. “Let’s move to the veranda where we can speak in private.”

  All three of them passed through the great room in silence and exited the house through a set of French doors. A few guests had wandered outside, but they appeared to be absorbed by their own business and didn’t glance in their direction. He ushered the women to a vacant corner of the veranda.

  Xavier crossed his arms. “I knew you were hiding something. Tell me about the rest, and what any of this has to do with Lord Nayland.”

  Regina’s chin lifted a fraction. He expected an argument from her, but perhaps she realized if she didn’t tell him what was going on, Evangeline would.

  “We are compiling a list of men who might be interested in Uncle Charles’s latest venture. Evangeline believes there is a possibility the map has no value in itself, but it could lead to the discovery of a fabled group of mercenaries that roamed the desert hundreds of years ago.”

  Regina’s sister eagerly recounted what she’d learned from reading her uncle’s notes and presented a credible argument to support her belief.

  “The group’s reach was further than the desert. As I said, there are reports of strikes occurring in Europe as well. If they actually existed and proof can be found, it will be a windfall for the antiquarian who finds it first. The discovery could be as momentous as the Rosetta stone. Uncle Charles will be famous,” Evangeline concluded in a breathy voice.

  Regina explained how they were talking with others about their Uncle Charles with the hope the name of a potential competitor came up in conversation. “At least it would allow us a place to start. We have nothing to go on now, and I am unwilling to take a passive approach when it comes to protecting our families.”

  Affection swelled like a wave inside him, washing over him. For as long as he could remember, he’d convinced himself he didn’t care—not about family, others’ judgments of him, or what became of him. He had professed love for his mother and sister when they asked, but the words had been obligatory and rote. Deep inside, he’d known it was true—he did love Mother and Serafine—but if his father caught him showing affection to either one, he called Xavier weak and punished him with the intentions of turning him into a man.

  Xavier had learned during his exile that the true measure of a man was his ability to love without fear, and in this moment, he was sure he loved Regina. Unfortunately, they had an audience. He held his hand out, and she placed her smaller one in his.

  He smiled. “We will keep our families safe together.”

  It wasn’t the most elegant profession of love, nor direct, but he would have many opportunities to tell her, and he made a silent vow to tell her every day for the rest of their lives.

  When they returned to the ballroom, Regina stiffened beside him. A lanky gentleman with stooped shoulders raised a hand in greeting then headed in their direction.

  “Mr. Lawrence,” Evangeline spat. “If he knows what is good for him, he will keep his distance.”

  What a coincidence. If memory served, Lawrence was the name of the weasel that had started the rumors about Regina.

  “Pardon me, ladies.” Xavier intercepted him and spun him around in the opposite direction. “Might I have a word with you, sir?”

  The man threw a look back over his shoulder as Xavier escorted him from the ballroom. “I was coming to congratulate you and Miss Darlington on your betrothal.”

  “How thoughtful,” Xavier drawled. “We are touched, I assure you.” He tightened his grip on the man’s arm. Nodding his thanks to the footman for holding the door, Xavier practically dragged Lawrence into the dimly lit corridor leading to the card room. The quartet’s music grew muffled as the footman closed the door behind them.

  Lawrence stumbled as he tried to keep up with Xavier’s determined strides. “Is there a problem, sir? Have I done something to offend?”

  Xavier located an empty drawing room, steered the man inside, and secured the door. The wall sconces had been lit in preparation for any guests wishing to find a quiet place for conversation.

  Xavier shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair. “Do you expect me to answer, or should we dispense with the pretense that you are ignorant to what you have done and get on with it?”

  Lawrence gulped. “Get on with it?”

  “It is within my rights to defend my betrothed’s reputation. I could issue a challenge, but my days are quite busy lately. I would prefer to see to the matter now.”

  “Just one moment.” The man held up his hands and patted the air as if signaling Xavier to calm himself. “Let’s talk about this.”

  Until that point, Xavier had kept his anger locked away, but it was close to breaking loose. He sensed the quickening of his heart; his hands curled into fists.

  “I—I see you have heard about the misunderstanding involving Miss Darlington. I promise, I never touched her.”

  “If that is true,” Xavier said through gritted teeth and stalked toward him, “why did you lie about kissing her?”

  Lawrence slowly backed away. “Well, I did mention there was a misunderstanding, did I not? A blunder on my part, to be more accurate. I never meant any harm to come to her. Please, allow me to make ame
nds. I will do anything.”

  Xavier stopped his advance. “Anything?”

  “Of course,” he said, nodding vigorously. “Anything you ask.”

  “Recant. Tell your friends you fabricated the tale.”

  The man recoiled. “Recant? I’m afraid I cannot do that. I would become a laughing stock. They already deride me for being shy, and there was that time I fainted at Madame Montgomery’s brothel.”

  “So you tried to improve your standing among the gents by slandering an innocent lady.” Xavier shook his head and began rolling up his sleeves. “You are aware I have no other options. Do you have a preference on which eye I blacken first, or should I start with bloodying your nose?”

  Mr. Lawrence’s face drained of color. “Are you serious? I have never been involved in a round of fisticuffs.”

  “You won’t like it. That much I can guarantee.” Xavier sighed. “I did hope for a fair fight, but a man must do what he must for his lady.”

  He took a step forward with his fists raised and Lawrence cried out, “I will do it. I will recant.”

  Xavier dropped his fists by his sides. “Very well. If I hear another word of this nonsense about Miss Darlington, you should expect a visit from me, and next time, I won’t be as forgiving.”

  Lawrence thanked him and scrambled for the door.

  It was just as well Xavier hadn’t needed to punch the blighter. If he’d dirtied his attire, he would have been forced to leave early, and he was looking forward to his and Regina’s first dance together.

  Twenty-six

  Regina was pleased when Aunt Beatrice woke at her usual time and was well enough to join her and her sisters in the library after breakfast. She and Evangeline dragged a wingback chair close to the window so their aunt would have brighter light to work on her knitting. The late morning sunlight wouldn’t help her to see any better, but she sighed with pleasure as she sank into the chair. Cupid dutifully sat at her feet, looking at her in expectation.

  “Warmth at last. I have been freezing all morning,” she said and patted the chair cushion in invitation for her dog to join her. Cupid leapt onto the chair, wedged his small body between Aunt Beatrice and the chair arm, and settled in for a nap.