Bad Boys Ahoy!

Charlotte looked away. 'I like Derbyshire,' she said softly.

He stared at her, feeling as if he'd taken a physical blow. She would choose this place, this life, over him? He'd told her how he felt, revealed emotions he didn't know how to manage, and she shunned him. In truth she didn't trust him.

It's reliable, she said. Unspoken was the notion that he was not.

'Jesus,' he muttered, sliding off the bed. He walked to the window and pushed aside the drapes, gazing at the winter scene outside. A few days more and he would be free to move on, free to return to the careless life he'd once enjoyed but now found sadly unfulfilling. If he expired today, what memory would he leave behind? That of a man who was unreliable and irresponsible? He didn't want to be that man anymore.

'There are things you don't know,' Charlotte said behind him, her voice soft and tentative.

He kept his back to her but was acutely aware of every move she made. 'Are you going to tell me what they are?'

'I…' She paused, then sighed. 'No.'

'Well, then.' Hugh released a deep breath, his disappointment painful. 'I suppose that answers my question.'

'I wish I could explain.'

'Please,' he said, raising a hand. 'Don't say anything further. I asked, you replied. There's nothing more to be said.' But part of him wished she would tell him, would confide in him, would trust him. Then again, the more he knew, the worse his ridiculous attachment could become.

No, it was best to keep her as an amusement and nothing more, regardless of how he felt at the moment.

Hugh turned from the window and retrieved his trousers. Then he collected his shirt.

'Where are you going?' she asked.

He didn't look at her. 'For a walk.'

'Where?' The sheets rustled. 'I can show you around the manse.'

'I'd rather you didn't, if you don't mind.' He could sense her hurt from across the room, but he forced himself to ignore it, moving into the adjoining sitting room to create much-needed distance between them.

Having spent most of his stay in the bedroom, Hugh wasn't familiar with any other wings of the house, but he didn't imagine it would be too difficult to find the study he'd stumbled into before. Most of his focus had been on Charlotte last night, but if he remembered correctly, there was a liquor-stocked sideboard in there.

And a drink, or several, was just what he needed, to find the frame of mind that kept his emotions far removed from his bedsport.

Chapter Six

It took only a few moments after leaving Charlotte for Hugh to find the study, which was just down the hall. He also found something else. Seated at the desk, with books scattered all around, was a young girl of no more than sixteen or seventeen years of age. Pausing on the threshold, he wasn't certain if he should enter or not. Propriety dictated the girl be chaperoned in his presence, but then he doubted anyone in this household would take offense.

Who the devil was she? She looked… normal. And the casual way in which she made use of the study made him think she must be a member of the household and not a servant.

The girl looked up at just that moment, and her face broke out in a delighted grin. With hair as dark as night and bright blue eyes, she was quite lovely. 'Hallo, Lord Montrose,' she greeted as she rose from behind the desk and came toward him. ''Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.' She held out her hand.

Completely dumbfounded, Hugh moved out of sheer habit, reaching for her fingers and bowing. 'A pleasure…?'

She giggled. 'Guinevere. My mother was a bit of a romantic. But you should call me Gwen as all my close associates do.'

Arching a brow, Hugh studied the chit further. Tall and slender, she held herself with the hallmarks of good breeding but deported herself with an informality that betrayed her lack of proper social training.

'Are you studying?' he asked, looking over her shoulder at the items on the desk.

'I was attempting to, yes.' Gwen smiled. 'But history is simply not holding my attention today. Where is Charlotte?'

'I'm not certain.' Surely she wouldn't still be in his room. Most likely she'd never grace it again, leastwise not while he was occupying it.

'Ahhh… a lover's tiff,' Gwen murmured sagely. 'Surprisingly early, but inevitable, I've been told. And the deeper the attachment, the more hurtful the row.'

'How the devil would you know of such things?'

Shrugging, Gwen turned back to the desk. 'There's not much of interest out here, my lord, and few people with whom to talk. Around these parts the only true form of entertainment appears to be courtship, and I'm a curious sort. It's rather like an opera, you see, or a play. Quite fascinating the way the sexes associate with each other, wouldn't you agree?'

Hugh shook his head. He'd never encountered a stranger group of individuals in his life. 'I require liquor,' he muttered, moving with long strides to the sideboard, where several crystal decanters sat lined up with tumblers. Tossing back one drink, he savored the burning heat in his stomach, before pouring another and turning to face the young Guinevere again. 'Are you related to Her Grace?'

Her brows arched. 'I'm her ward.'

'Right.' He finished his second drink. To these people it would make perfect sense to leave a young girl in the care of a duchess not quite right in the head.

''Ere now!'

Hugh glanced at the doorway, where Artemis stood with hands on his hips. 'You shouldn't be talking to 'im,' the servant scolded Gwen.

'Beg your pardon?' Hugh stiffened.

Artemis turned his bulging eye toward him. 'I tole 'er Grace you'd be nothin' but trouble. But she wouldn't listen to me. And look what you've done!'

'What the devil are you talking about?'

'She's cryin' and yer in 'ere imbibin' spirits and swearin' in front o' Miss Guinevere. And 'alf dressed, too! Disgraceful.'

'Oh, dear.' Gwen gave a regretful shake of her head and moved to make her egress. 'That must have been some row you had.'

'I've done nothing,' Hugh cried, affronted at the unfair accusation, and a tad embarrassed. Artemis was correct. He wasn't acting the gentleman. 'I've yet to be introduced to Lady Glenmoore. I'm certainly not the cause of her distress. Most likely it's you. Lord knows I'd be in tears if you worked in my household.'

Artemis gasped, his hands coming to his hips. 'See?' he blustered to Gwen. 'I tole ye how they are!' He lifted a finger to the side of his head and spun it in a circle. 'All the Quality are a bit-'

'Damnation!' Hugh slammed his empty tumbler onto the sideboard. 'Of all the insolent-'

'Good heavens,' Gwen interrupted, wrinkling her nose. 'Artemis, stand down.'

Hugh crossed his arms. 'He's mad as you please.'

'Eh?' Artemis snapped. 'Ye can't even recall the name o' the lady you've been entertainin' all mornin'.'

'Oh, my.' Gwen blushed, her hands lifting to her cheeks.

Hugh froze. His horrified gaze shifted to Gwen. When she winced, all the pieces fell into place. Stunned, he shot a glance at Artemis, who for once had the grace to look chastened. 'Good God.' He leaned heavily against the sideboard. 'Where is she?'

'Perhaps you should wait until you're less surly,' Gwen advised.

'I am not surly!'

'You're yelling,' she pointed out.