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

  Her quandary was understandable and stirred his sympathy. If she alerted anyone to his presence, she and her sisters would be ruined. He’d been their guest for three nights.

  Her tongue darted over her lips. “Your friend in the hedges. Will he tell anyone where you are?”

  “No.” She had to be referring to Benny. “He is my servant. He doesn’t know anyone, and he is not a chatty type. We are leaving for New Orleans as soon as possible.” Once his head stopped spinning every time he moved. “You will never see either of us again. I promise. Please, allow me to rest a little longer, and I will go.”

  She hesitated before granting permission. “You must stay in this room and you cannot make a sound. Our great-aunt doesn’t know you are here.”

  “I see. And what about your servants? Do they know?”

  “Only Joy. She is our upstairs maid, and she acts as a lady’s maid when we need her. She has been with us since she was a girl. She has never given us reason to doubt her loyalty.”

  “Are you still between butlers? A household full of women should at least have a butler.”

  She released a forceful exhale as if his questions were trying her patience. “I didn’t realize it was common knowledge. I will place an advertisement after you are gone. We cannot bring on a new man now.”

  “Humph.” He drained the cup rather than speak his mind and risk angering her. The ladies were in this trouble because they had no manservant. Farrin had seen an opportunity and seized it. And he would probably send someone else for the map once he realized Xavier had escaped without searching.

  Even though he barely knew the women, they were showing him kindness in nursing him back to health. He owed them one as well. “Miss Darlington, please don’t delay in placing the advertisement. A home with no man in residence is vulnerable.”

  “We can take care of ourselves, Mr. Vistoire. If you attempt to take liberties while you are recovering, you will discover for yourself.”

  She turned on her heel and marched from the room.

  Xavier closed his eyes, knowing he needed rest to heal. It wouldn’t take long before Farrin realized Miss Darlington hadn’t actually summoned a Runner, and Xavier wanted to be on a ship bound for New Orleans before the blackguard did. He hadn’t yet decided if he had it in him to steal from the young women to pay his fare. Now that he’d made their acquaintances, he had a difficult time thinking of them as nothing more than a means to an end.

  Five

  “Are you sure you want to do this, miss?” Joy stood at one end of the copper tub in Regina’s bedchamber, gnawing her lip as she awaited Regina’s response.

  “No, but a warm bath might help ease Mr. Vistoire’s aches and pains. The sooner he feels better, the sooner he can go.”

  In the two days since he’d regained consciousness, he had been nothing but respectful, polite, and charming toward her and her sisters. She’d begun to soften toward him, which was exactly what she feared he wanted. Once she stopped watching her back, he might pounce just like Lord Geoffrey had. Nevertheless, she’d had to relax her vigilance a little. She’d become tired of dissecting every word he spoke and searching for meaning in every look. As long as he continued to act like a gentleman, she could be amiable.

  Taking a deep cleansing breath, she grabbed the edge of the tub and nodded toward Joy. “Let’s do this before Aunt Beatrice returns.”

  Sophia and Evangeline had coaxed their aunt into taking Cupid for a walk with them and promised Regina they would draw it out as long as possible. Fortunately, Aunt Beatrice was a social being and would engage in conversation with most anyone passing on the walkway. Some might say she was a bit too chatty at times, but Regina and her sisters had always loved that about her.

  When their parents died and Uncle Charles had taken Regina and her sisters to live in his home, the quiet had been unbearable. Uncle Charles, being a bachelor, hadn’t seemed to know how to talk to children, and the servants had avoided them. Regina supposed it was difficult to find anything to say to three young orphans, but Aunt Beatrice hadn’t been at a loss. She’d filled the home with enough chatter to chase away the gloom, at least for significant parts of Regina’s day until she no longer hurt as badly as she had in the beginning.

  Regina and Joy lifted opposite ends of the tub and shambled to the spare bedchamber, navigating the long corridor and around the tight corner leading to the doorway. Mr. Vistoire was asleep, but his eyes fluttered open as they placed the tub on the wooden floor with a soft thump.

  “What are you doing?” He sounded hoarse and he seemed to lack energy to raise his head. “You shouldn’t be lifting tubs.”

  “And why not?” Regina punched her fists to her hips, more comfortable pretending her searing cheeks were a result of irritation rather than from imagining him stripped down to nothing. “I’m as able-bodied as Joy.”

  He frowned. “I hardly think an explanation is required. You are a lady.”

  “I will bring the water, miss.” Joy spun toward the door, but not fast enough to hide her grin. The maid had vocalized a similar sentiment before agreeing to prepare a bath for Mr. Vistoire, but if Regina didn’t help with the tub, who would?

  He yawned and scrubbed a hand over his whiskers before pushing to a seated position. His fingers curled gently around the edge of the mattress as he slumped forward. The day he’d regained consciousness, he’d been unable to sit up for more than a couple of minutes without becoming queasy. Yesterday had been no better. But today, he’d sat up for an hour without becoming sick. It seemed he was on the mend.

  “Have you experienced any nausea today?”

  “No, and my headache is better at the moment.”

  She studied his ruggedly handsome face, wondering if they had ever been at the same assemblies. How she could have ever missed him, she didn’t know. He was different from most of the gentlemen she encountered in the ballrooms. He didn’t possess a doughy middle. In fact, he more closely resembled the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum than most flesh and blood men of her acquaintance.

  “How did you break your nose?” she blurted.

  “It was broken for me.” He reached to touch the flat raised hump where his nose met his face. “Does it make me ugly?”

  “Absolutely hideous. I can barely stand looking at you. Should I retrieve a mirror so you can see how unsightly you are?”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t if it is that bad.” His green eyes twinkled, revealing he understood she was having a little fun with him.

  When she just stood there, he raised his eyebrows. They disappeared beneath the dark curls hanging down on his forehead. “Well, are you going to allow me to take a look at myself or not?

  She held up a finger. “One moment.”

  Her smile stayed with her as she returned to her chambers for a handheld looking glass. Mr. Vistoire was far from ugly, but the fact she found him uncommonly handsome was irrelevant. He was leaving. She would never see him again. She was perfectly content with the arrangement.

  After retrieving the mirror from her dressing table, she grabbed the sliver of her favorite soap from the chintz dish on the washstand and headed back to his room. He was waiting on the side of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck, but he dropped his hand to his side when he saw her.

  “How much does it hurt?” she asked. “I could make a trip to the apothecary this afternoon and request a powder.”

  “No, thank you, mademoiselle. I’ve had worse pain. This will pass.” When he lifted the mirror to see his reflection, he grimaced. “You were telling the truth. I look revolting.”

  “I beg your pardon? You do not.”

  “I look like something stuck to the bottom of someone’s boot.” He dropped his hand with the mirror to his lap.

  “Let me have the mirror.” She took it before he could respond and held it in front of him so he could see his reflection. “What, pray tell, do you find revolting?” Lord knew she needed help seeing his physical flaws, because in her opinion, he was too
attractive by half.

  One dark eyebrow lifted. “To begin with, I need a good shave.” He plowed his fingers through his curls. “And I’m beginning to suspect Cupid thinks this mop of hair makes me a pooch, just like him. Only larger. That would explain his fascination with me.”

  Regina laughed; the last traces of tension in her spine melted away. “You don’t look like an overgrown poodle.”

  “But I do need a haircut.” With his head hanging forward again, he angled a smile at her that she couldn’t help returning.

  “A shave and a haircut. My, aren’t you the dandy, Mr. Vistoire?”

  “At one time, I fancied myself quite the swell.”

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  “No, miss.” One side of his mouth inched higher. “I am being friendly.”

  “Humph.”

  Joy returned with a bucket of steaming water. Regina jumped to help her dump it into the tub and took the empty bucket when they were finished. She hadn’t intended to dawdle with Mr. Vistoire, but he could be distracting.

  “Stay where you are,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “The tub will get filled quicker with two of us working.”

  She and Joy made three trips each with buckets of warm water, but the tub was only a quarter full. When they traipsed downstairs a fourth time, Cook apparently couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.

  “Miss Darlington, what are you doing? If you wish to take a bath, Mrs. Cox and I can help Joy.”

  Regina feigned an airy laugh and swiped away the perspiration dampened her brow with the back of her hand. “No, no. This is part of my exercise. The bath is my reward for when I am done.”

  Cook frowned but said nothing more on the subject.

  Regina and Joy resumed filling their buckets and slogged upstairs. The maid entered ahead of Regina, gasped, and slid to a stop. Regina nearly ran into her. Water sloshed from the bucket and drenched them both. Looking up, she located the cause of Joy’s distress and the reason Regina’s slippers were saturated. Mr. Vistoire was sitting in the tub. And he was bare from the waist up. In fact, he might have been bare all over, but Regina didn’t dare look. She closed her eyes and prayed he wouldn’t notice her erratic breathing.

  “Mr. Vistoire.” She cleared her throat and tried to sound stern. “I thought I was clear you should remain seated.”

  “I am seated,” he replied with an air of nonchalance.

  “I didn’t mean in the tub. What if you’d had another dizzy spell and fallen again? You should have waited for assistance.”

  “Pfft! If you are able-bodied enough to carry pails of water upstairs, I’m strong enough to walk from the bed to the tub.”

  The sound of dripping water reverberated in her ears, and all she could think on was the naked man across the room. As tempting as it was to satisfy her curiosity and steal a peek, she wouldn’t. That would make her vulgar, and ladies were never vulgar. She hadn’t considered the unfairness of being held to a higher standard than gentlemen until this very moment.

  “Merci, mademoiselles.” His voice was too much like a caress and left her flustered. “Leave the buckets and take your rest. I can manage alone.”

  Regina plopped the bucket on the floor and more water splashed her slippers. “If you think we were planning to bathe you, you are as mad as a March hare, sir. You’d best be able to manage alone.” She turned on her heel, opened her eyes, and stormed from the room, her slippers squishing with each step.

  Of all the nerve, assuming she and Joy were going to wash him. Even though she had considered that he might require help, he was still a presumptuous cur.

  Six

  After soaking his sore muscles until the water had grown cold, Xavier climbed from the tub feeling refreshed. He scrubbed the droplets from his face and chest then wrapped the bath sheet around his waist. The dizziness had subsided, and his appetite was returning with a merciless vengeance. If his rumbling stomach were any indication, he could clean out the Darlingtons’ pantry and still be on the search for food.

  He wouldn’t, of course. The Darlington sisters had shown him much kindness this past week, and he wouldn’t repay them by being a poor guest. In fact, he’d outstayed his welcome. It was time to say farewell so the women could reclaim their home, and Miss Darlington’s fears could be put to rest. He wouldn’t tell anyone about his stay at Wedmore House. He’d given his word. Besides, he wouldn’t be loitering in England long enough to speak with anyone. He’d decided during his bath that he would leave after dark tonight.

  The clothes he’d been wearing when he’d arrived at Wedmore House were hanging in the wardrobe. They smelled freshly laundered, much to his appreciation. He would have nothing else to wear on the journey home. All of his belongings had remained at the boarding house when he’d been snatched outside of the gaming hell.

  Mrs. Zachery might have tossed everything in the rubbish bin by now, or perhaps she no longer ran the house, but he needed to pay a visit to his former residence. Money and his letter of introduction to prove his identity were hidden beneath a loose floorboard in his old bedchamber. He would have to take his chances that he could gain entry into the boarding house, because stealing jewelry from the Darlingtons was no longer an option.

  A feminine clearing of a throat caused him to turn toward the doorway. The Darlingtons’ maid stood in the threshold with one hand over her eyes. A progressive blush invaded her cheeks. “I came to set out your clothes, sir.”

  “I found them. No need to bother.”

  “Yes, sir. I will inform Miss Darlington.” She whipped around and practically dashed from the room.

  Xavier smiled knowingly. It seemed he’d shocked the women earlier with his state of undress, which had been his aim. Not that he made a habit of such behavior. It had been a risk considering Miss Darlington believed he’d come to Wedmore House with the intention of seducing her, but he’d needed to convince her that he had enough water. She’d been so damned determined to fill the tub, and sitting by feeling useless while she exerted herself hadn’t set well with him.

  Xavier retrieved his drawers and trousers from the wardrobe and proceeded to dress. As he pulled the shirt over his head, a soft knock sounded at the door.

  “Are you decent, Mr. Vistoire?”

  This time it was Miss Darlington standing in the doorway with her hand over her eyes.

  “Oui. Yes.” Sometimes he reverted to his native tongue without thinking, which he’d come to learn the English did not appreciate. “Thank you for the bath. I feel much better.”

  She dropped her hand to her side. “Splendid.” A pair of scissors dangled from the hand she hadn’t used to cover her eyes. “Are you ready for that haircut, sir?”

  “By you? What do you know about cutting a man’s hair?”

  She sniffed and crossed to the desk in the corner to pull out the chair. “I’ll have you know I’m excellent with a blade.”

  “That is not reassuring.”

  Patting the chair rail, she offered an angelic smile. “Come sit. I will be gentle.”

  Despite his initial hesitation, he couldn’t resist her summons. He’d grown to crave her touch, even though he could not allow it to show or she would raise her guard again.

  He sat in the chair and tipped his head back to see her standing behind him. “Just a little off the top and sides, and I prefer to keep my ears intact.”

  To his surprise, she smiled and tugged his ear. “These old things? It is not as if you use them. You certainly didn’t bother earlier when I told you to wait on the side of the bed.”

  “If I’m to receive a lecture, I withdraw my request. Please, take them off first.”

  “I should just to spite you.” Her mischievous smirk and irreverent teasing endeared her to him even more.

  She draped the bath sheet over his shoulders, and he sank against the seatback. He’d missed the companionship of women. Not just the physical connection, but also their gift for banter and conversation. He’d
especially come to enjoy Miss Darlington’s company over the past few days. She was quick-witted and challenged him in a way no other lady ever had. He admired her mettle.

  She retrieved a comb from the desk drawer then moved back into position behind him. Xavier closed his eyes as she drew the comb through his curls. As promised, she was gentle, even when she encountered a snarl. Pleasing tingles cascaded down his back and arms.

  “I could have cut my own hair.” His protest lacked force.

  “I cut my own hair once,” she said as she took the first snip. “It was a disaster. Believe me, you are better off allowing me to perform the task on your behalf. You may shave yourself, though.”

  Xavier melted beneath her hands, savoring the scent of her soap on both of them. It was as if they’d shared the tub.

  Sacre blue. Now he couldn’t strike the vision of her naked and straddling him from his mind. And his imagination ran rampant. Warm bath water streaming over and between her small breasts, nipples as rosy pink as her lips, erect and begging to be licked. Passion smoldering in her amber and green eyes. Her elegant fingers skimming his chest, her nails grazing his skin.

  God, he had to stop thinking of her in that way. He was getting hard and the extra room in his borrowed trousers wouldn’t disguise it much longer. Shifting his position on the chair, he tried to think of something witty to say, but he found he was tongue-tied.

  “We are almost finished,” she murmured as she came to stand between his legs. Her concentration never wavered from her task, but all he could focus on was her nearness. He wanted to touch her so badly he ached. Blood pounded through his veins. She swayed closer, lifting to her toes to reach the top of his head. Her breasts were level with his face and the damned spicy sweet smell of her soap filled his lungs. He grasped the seat of the chair, his spine rigid, and battled against the temptation to embrace her.

  Her gaze strayed to his face and she drew back. “What is it? Are you feeling ill?”

  He shook his head, uncertain if he should explain or allow her to believe he wasn’t feeling up to snuff.