The Fox: in his Henhouse (The Dubious Mates #1)

Chapter 46

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

C harles had been dressed for a party and stuffed into a carriage in a flurry of last-minute activity. No one had informed her she’d be leaving London; even her lady’s maid had not known which dress to press.

As she was jostled about on the seat across from Grand-mère and Grand-père , she revisited the conversation she’d had but a scant hour earlier with Jeanie, wondering anew why she was being bundled off to some garden fête. Did her grandparents mean to show her off? Or did they plan to throw her to the Ton’s hungry wolves?

“No, miss, ne’er heard o’ the Sedgewicks,” Jeanie had told her. “Then again I am right new here.” She’d popped a few stray flowers into Charles’s hair from the many bouquets that still littered her room.

“Perhaps Lord Wellesley’ll be there, miss.” She’d winked at Charles through the mirror. “An’ I see yer blushin’, so don’t tell me y’ wouldn’t like it if he were.”

Charles had informed her she wouldn’t, though she could recall still the rash bloom on her cheeks. Even now she felt them burn.

Her grandmother’s sharp glance across the carriage made Charles force a smile. She’d not give Grand-mère a hint of her true feelings. She would never trust her grandparents, no matter how doggedly they now tried to make amends.

Some things were simply unforgivable.

Wells had arrived late enough to the Sedgewick fête for it to be dusk. He’d searched in vain for Charles and the Countess of Denbigh but thus far had found neither—until he stumbled upon an outdoor balcony and observed the masses dancing below him on the estate’s grand terrace. Torches flickered along the perimeter, making the scene glow otherworldly. And there, below his vantage point, he spotted his love’s flaming, red-gold hair.

She was dressed in white, like all the other débutantes in attendance, and danced with some officer of the Crown resplendent in bright uniform. He wanted to tear her from the other man’s arms, but of course he could not. He merely gazed at her in wonder, for Charles looked, remarkably enough, happy. She flashed a grin at the fellow spinning her about, her feet seamlessly following his lead. Wells felt a surge of envy overtake him, to see her so joyous, breathless almost in her twirling.

He could not tear his eyes away.

He remained rooted in agony, watching as she stepped into the next dance with another fashionably dressed gentleman who guided her to the center of the terrace. He could sense the Ton’s collective curiosity peering at this scandalous young lady so recently, shockingly returned to the bosom of the Earl of Denbigh. He saw her through their eyes: dancing with abandon unlike the other prim misses who kept themselves in check. Charles Merrinan, by contrast, exuded raw sensuality as she swept across the dance floor, and Wells suspected every man there felt it. Gazes young and old shifted almost imperceptibly, unconsciously, to follow the graceful movements of his Fox.

He was gripped with an intense desire to spirit her into his parents’ carriage right then and there, but he restrained himself. He would not impose his will upon her, though it killed him to remain a prisoner of propriety. It was her choice with whom she danced. He would not spoil her enjoyment. He dared not.

“You will ask her to dance, Roland, won’t you?” The Duchess snuck up from behind to look down at the sea of bodies swirling to the strains of a quartet.

“She will decline the offer, Mother, I know it.”

“You cannot know unless you try, dear,” she nudged. “Go and ask her. I am sorry I suggested so devious a plan to you before.”

Had Maman just apologized?

“I have given it more thought, since last we spoke, and you are right not to trick her into marriage.”

Wells blinked; wonders never ceased . “Why, I do believe the earth just shifted beneath my feet!” he exclaimed.

“Do not grow cocky, boy.” She smacked him lightly with her fan, lips twitching. “I merely suggest you may understand Miss Merrinan better than I, having known her more intimately.”

“Thank you, Maman .” He kissed her cheek. “I shall ask her to dance after this earthquake passes, for who knows, perhaps the entire universe has now shifted in my favor.”

He flashed her a smile before he headed downstairs to the dance, but not before he’d seen his mother touch her gloved hand to her face, as if to affirm his kiss were real.

“Miss Merrinan,” Lord Wellesley approached between numbers, “may I be so bold as to ask for this next dance?”

Charles was stunned to discover his lordship suddenly standing before her. She’d nervously searched the fête all afternoon for him.

He looked again different, dressed this time in a formal lawn suit, the expression on his face somehow softer, kinder. Who was this handsome stranger? Where was her demanding, imperious master?

“I should be delighted, sir.” She ignored the fact that her dance card was full; a duke’s heir trumped most.

Wellesley took her hand to lead her to the floor and assume his position across from her. He stared boldly into her eyes, and then, as the music began, circled her, their hands meeting lightly through their gloves, the advance and retreat a delight. Charles’s heart skipped a beat when he grasped her waist to lift her in a turn and set her back down. She felt breathless and flustered, though she fast regained her feet.

They turned in crossed handhold next, eyes locked as firmly as their steps, her mind now blank from the sheer pleasure of him as time ceased in the sway of bodies, music, and motion. Weeks of tension dissolved into the flagstone under her feet, her soul suddenly light as air as she floated across the terrace. And when the music slowed, bringing her down to earth—to the moment’s inevitable end—his hand at the small of her back burned hot through her dress, searing.

Charles tilted her head, her lips on his own sudden as a summer storm.

***

Wells felt her lips and was lost. He melded his mouth to hers without fear or frenzy. A union of souls.

They kissed in perfect, public silence.

The Ton’s subsequent gasp barely registered until Charles broke from him and Wells heard titters ripple through the hushed crowd. He opened his eyes to a sea of faces staring with equal parts derision and delight. He was stunned by their interest—until his mind awoke with a curse.

It had come to this, after all.

Wells dragged Charles off the floor, his heart galloping in his chest. When he’d hauled her far enough into the Sedgewicks’ shrubbery so as to be hidden from spectacle, he dropped her hand to run his fingers through his newly shorn locks.

“Listen to me, Charles, I did not . . .” He heaved a great sigh. “Regardless of what you think of me, woman, I did not intend to kiss you just now so publicly, damn it.” He began to pace, noting how her brow knit with consternation.

“Which is not to say I regret it, mind you. I regret only where it happened, not that it happened, because I am so in love with you, Charles—so unbearably in love, Fox—I won’t do the bloody honorable thing right now and insist you marry me to avoid a scandal. I’ll not do what they all expect, because I know you don’t give a whit about the Ton , about any of this.” His hand swept the estate. “It is but one of many, many reasons why I love you so bloody much.” He took another deep, shuddering breath. “I also know you’d rather die penniless in a hovel somewhere than have a man like me dictate what you can and cannot do, but Charles?—”

She opened her mouth to speak, but his look beseeched her to let him finish.

“—when you left Cumberland, love, I swore that if I found you I would court you properly, which I have tried but clearly failed to do, failed to sway your opinion of me. And I’ve no one to blame but myself in this, I know. I cannot force your hand, nor will I entrap you now into marriage. But I want you as my wife, Fox. Every fiber of my being wants you. And if you won’t marry me I must insist you remain my housekeeper and return with me to Cumberland. And failing that, I must insist you remain my friend, if not my lover, because somehow, Charles Merrinan, I need you in my life. I cannot imagine life without you.”

He dropped to his knees before her, burying his face into the fabric of her skirt and twisting the material as he pressed his very being into her thighs, desperate to make her understand.

***

Charles remained immobile. How was this possible? How did this beastly lord she’d impossibly come to love now debase himself before her, nearly prostrate on the ground? She didn’t like what she saw. This was not her haughty jailor. Had she tamed him somehow?

Her hand fell to his head, fisting his short curls as she forced him to look up at her. “Roland Rutherford Wellesley, get up, damn you, and stop acting a fool puppy when you are a grown pirate of a man.”

His eyes blazed back with a fire that shot straight to her loins.

“I kissed you , just now, and we both know it, so the blame falls squarely on me. Nor am I opposed to marriage, sir. I have been opposed to the manner in which you have thrust it at me, presumptuous and demanding. But if you give me your word that you will treat your wife as your equal—that you will grant me my freedom at last—I may consider your suit more . . . seriously.”

His eyes sparked with a look that made her legs wobble.

Yet still he did not rise but remained on his knees, hands merely bunching her skirts higher, till he reached her folded stocking tops, his hands slipping further to the bare flesh above, then higher still to the insides of her thighs, grabbing her there until she gasped, “Roland!”

“I take it you prefer pirates to puppies, love?” His eyes burned with as much hunger as her own.

“Lord Wells,” Charles only half protested, “I must insist you unhand me.”

“Miss Merrinan,” he said with a grin, “I’m afraid I can no longer do that, as I intend to abscond with you instead.” His hands at her thighs slid slowly further up to roundly cup her bottom, lifting her over his shoulder as he rose, her body suddenly draped across him like thieves’ booty.

Charles let out a shriek from upside down across his back, his hands still up her skirts. “You can’t seriously?—!”

“Oh yes.” He laughed. “I think I must.” He removed one palm to lightly smack her bum, making her yelp again in protest.

“Roland, put me down!”

“Not now, Fox. Later I promise to lay you flat on your back, darling, but right now I believe the Ton demands a scandal and I, for one, have every intention of delivering.”

And with that he strode back into the throng of onlookers, Charles slung over his shoulder like the spoils of the sea. He carried her through the crowd of awed and gaping faces to proudly announce, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the future Duchess of Allendale.”

He turned her so her head, and not her derrière, might look out upon the throng, before he swung her around so that he faced the Ton himself. “Apologies for our swift exit, Ladies, Gentlemen.”

Wells took off without a look back. The future Duke of Allendale had claimed a wife at last.

“I’ve had a license for days, you know,” Wells told her the moment they were inside the ducal carriage, wheels rapidly trundling off. He figured his mother could suffer a ride back with the Enrights.

“Have you now?” She smirked.

“Yes, so anytime, really.” He stared intently at her. “You’ve only to say the word, Miss Merrinan.”

“And what word would that be, my lord?” Her foot reached out to slide up the inside of his calf, seated as she was across from him.

He groaned. “Merciful God in heaven . . .”

“You wish me to say those words, sir?”

“No, you minx, come here.” He hauled her into his lap, his hands finding new ways to punish her.

“Lord Wells,” she managed to get out between his rough handling and the shower of kisses he rained down on her, “where, pray tell, are you taking me, sir?”

“Home.” He buried his face in her hair, its many pins long scattered to the carriage floor.

“Where is home, sir?” she breathed.

“Cumberland.” He kissed her neck. He could not stop kissing her. “Only first you are coming to my parents’ townhouse, to meet my father. You are not setting foot at the Enrights again.” He immediately adjusted his tone. “Forgive me, Charles, but I cannot abide your mother’s family.”

“Neither can I.” She laughed. “Only I rather like my new lady’s maid, Roland. Might we steal her from them, do you think?”

“Why not?” He grinned. “I am stealing you, after all.”

“ I am choosing to flee with a pirate,” she corrected.

“Charles, did I not just toss you over my shoulder before all of London’s Beau Monde ?” He raised his brow, planting another kiss to her lips until he felt her body give.

“You did, my lord.” She softened deliciously in his arms.

Thank God she still liked his rough ways.

And then she shifted in her seat, surprising him more by straddling his lap, her hands falling to his waist to undo his fall as her eyes met his with the most brazen look yet.

He inhaled with a hiss as she mounted him in one swift move.

“I’ve missed you terribly, you scoundrel,” she whispered hot in his ear. Her body fit perfectly over his own. “And I hereby intend, for once and for all, to pay off my fine for thieving. So don’t you dare deny me full acquittal after this, Your Grace .”

“As if I could, Fox.” He laughed beneath her. “As if I—” And sucking in his breath, he could not.