Bad Boys Ahoy!

Somewhere on this floor, the mad duchess waited.

He'd never been a nervous sort. In fact, he was known for his steely concentration, which had stood him in good stead through two duels and had given him a reputation as a man with whom to be reckoned. Because of his even temperament, Hugh found the whole mystery of the decrepit mansion and the legend of the duchess rather thrilling. His life had become a tedious cycle of business meetings, women whose names he couldn't remember, and fair-weather friends. He was bored of it all, which was the main reason he'd decided at the last moment to visit Julienne.

As he undressed, he racked his memory trying to recall what he could about the old duke and his hasty marriage. Glenmoore had been an Eccentric, an Original, always haring off on worldly adventures at which everyone else had shaken their heads. Hugh knew Glenmoore's son had always considered his father to be something of an embarrassment.

Now Hugh wished he'd paid greater attention to the talk. When his sister had married Lucien Remington, he'd become adept at avoiding gossip of any nature. For future reference, he'd have to rethink his reticence. Perhaps there was something useful to be gleaned from the chatter after all.

Charlotte was an enigma he would unravel. A lady's companion was expected to have a sterling reputation, and yet it was fairly obvious by the way she dressed and her skilled seduction that Charlotte was a bit tarnished.

Every one of the servants had some affliction or another. It was highly possible that the tempting redhead's reputation was hers.

Damnation, he was thirsty!

He'd had nothing but wine since the pot of tea earlier. Shooting a wary glance at the fresh pitcher left by Katie, Hugh sighed in resignation and poured a small ration. There was no help for it. He couldn't drink liquor the entire duration of the storm. With everything that was happening around him, he was better off sober.

He lifted the glass and drained its contents. Then he crawled into the massive bed and promptly fell asleep.

Hugh stiffened but made no other movement. All of his senses alert, he listened carefully for the sound that woke him.

There it was again-the soft sound of material brushing against itself.

Someone else was in the room with him.

Throwing back the covers, he leapt from the bed, startling the dark form that stood at the foot of it. He lunged forward, arms out to capture his Peeping Tom.

And ended up facedown on the rug.

Startled, knowing he should have caught the intruder, Hugh jumped to his feet and spun about, expecting to catch something and finding only air. Running to the nightstand, he lit the taper, then looked around, finding no one and nothing amiss.

He cursed as he pulled on his discarded trousers. A man could take only so much.

As he reached for the candle, he noted the pitcher next to it and muttered an oath that would have blistered the ears of a seasoned sailor. If the blasted water was to blame for this, he'd be foxed the duration of his visit and be glad of it.

In the meantime, though, Hugh didn't believe he'd imagined the specter at the end of the bed, and he also didn't believe the individual simply dissipated into thin air. Having Remington as a brother-in-law had taught him a thing or two about appearances, and he'd use what he'd learned to search the walls on either side of the fireplace.

It took less than an hour to find the tiny lever. Hugh engaged it, and the wall slid open without a sound, betraying how well maintained the mechanism inside was.

With a small smile of satisfaction and the thrill of discovery, he picked up the taper and stepped inside.

Chapter Three

Bending over the desk in the study, Charlotte released a deep breath and seriously considered ripping the blasted map she was studying into pieces. She'd spent three years attempting to puzzle out the cryptic thing and had very little to show for her efforts.

If she had only herself to look after, she would frame the map as a colorful memento and carry on. But she had an entire house of people to worry about, and her efforts alone could never support them all. Moving them away, finding a place to live, trying to make ends meet… impossible. But of course, that's exactly what Carding intended.

Charlotte tightened the belt of her lined silk robe. Her negligees had been purchased for her past life and were ill-suited to her present circumstances, but she wore them regardless. They reminded her that she was a woman, that she was still young and attractive. Left out here in the country, it was far too easy to forget those things.

Bleary-eyed, Charlotte knew she should retire, but thoughts of the handsome earl just a few doors down made sleep difficult. She hungered for him, hungered for the hard body and impressive cockstand she'd felt while sitting on his lap.

All night he'd looked at her as if nothing else in the world existed. Despite his readily apparent desire and her obvious willingness, he'd restrained himself. He'd kept his hands from pawing her despite the hard, throbbing erection she'd felt at her hip. His slow, leisurely seduction showed he respected her, perhaps even admired her. Bold as she was, she'd considered knocking on his door, knowing the charming rogue would welcome her eagerly. She was considering it now…

'Hello.'

Startled, Charlotte glanced up, and her heart lodged in her throat. Not but a few feet away stood the Earl of Montrose, wearing only trousers and an endearingly tousled head of dark blond curls. He was such a beautiful man, powerfully built, with shoulders that were a tailor's dream tapering to a washboard stomach and trim hips. His dark eyes were heavy-lidded, seductive, gazing at her with their customary breathless intensity.

'I didn't hear you come-' Her voice trailed off as she looked past him and saw the opening in the wall of the study. 'Have you been sneaking around?' she snapped.

Barefooted, he stepped toward her with the top button of his trousers undone, the muscles of his stomach rippling with strength as he moved. 'I was sleeping,' he drawled softly. 'Someone else was sneaking around. In my bedchamber.'

Charlotte winced inwardly, but kept her face impassive. Bloody hell.

'Sounds as if you had a bad dream,' she murmured, rolling up the map. 'After what happened today-'

'It wasn't a dream, Charlotte.'

She froze as Montrose rounded the desk and came up behind her. He smelled wonderful, an enticing scent of softly warmed cologne and aroused male. And there was no doubt he was aroused-the hard length of an impressive erection strained against the front of his trousers. She stood tense, expectant, waiting for him to make the first move.

The earl blew out his taper and set it aside. His chest pressing into her back, he reached around for her hands and stilled their movements. 'I've allowed you to be evasive, sweet, but now it's time we discussed the answers to the obvious questions.'

'I don't know what you mean,' she breathed, her heart racing at his proximity. The heat of his skin burned through her robe. Unable to stop herself, she squirmed against him and felt the hard swell of his cock slide across her buttocks.

He spread the map open, his breath hot and harsh in her ear. 'Now where is the sharp wit I so admire?'

Charlotte swallowed hard. He did admire her, and for more than her appearance.

One of his large hands rested safely over hers on the map. The other, however, ventured away, cupping her shoulder before sliding down her back. She arched into his caress helplessly. 'This is beautiful,' he murmured, stroking the heavy silk of her robe. 'The green brings out the color of your eyes and sets off your hair.'

'Montrose…' Her eyes slid closed. It had been so long since another person had touched her. Too long.