the clothes. And the men.'
Laughing at the young girl's exuberance, Charlotte shrugged out of her travel pelisse. 'You will wear my ice blue satin.'
Gwen's eyes widened as she shook her head. 'Oh, I couldn't possibly. That's your best gown.'
'Lady Julienne has graciously offered me the use of one of her gowns.'
Squealing with delight, Gwen spun around with her arms wide. 'I really like her. She's as nice as Lord Montrose.'
'Yes, she is.' Another knock came to the door. When Charlotte opened it, she found two footmen waiting with her trunks, and a maid to unpack them.
Gwen came to her side. 'Shall we retreat to the rear garden? Lady Canlow's companion said it was designed to look even prettier in the snow than it does in the spring.'
Charlotte retrieved her pelisse and cloak, feeling a freedom and lightness of spirit that she doubted she'd ever felt before. And it was all Hugh La Coeur's doing, she knew. She linked her arm with Gwen's. 'Well, we definitely must have a look, then.'
Chapter Eight
'That has to be one of the more fantastic stories I've ever heard,' Lucien said, with a shake of his head.
Hugh threw his head back and released a deep breath. 'I know. Believe me. I thought I was going mad. You've never met such a ragtag collection of lovable misfits in your life.' He started to pace. 'Where in hell is your butler?' he snapped.
He'd sent the servant to locate Charlotte and bring her to him almost a half hour past. The Remington manse was vast, but not
'You are wearing a hole in my rug, Montrose,' Lucien said dryly.
Cursing, Hugh stilled, staring down at the elegant Aubusson rug beneath his feet. He spun about as the door to the study opened. The butler entered, a prime example of an upper servant with his impassive face and unflappable demeanor. Snorting, Hugh realized he liked Artemis better. Artemis would have told him why Charlotte was absent immediately, unlike Remington's butler, who waited to be asked before he would speak.
'Out with it, man!' Hugh barked. 'Where is Mrs. Riddleton?'
The butler turned his head to Hugh with a disdainful sniff. 'Apparently there was a collision between two footmen as they carried Lord Merrick's trunks up the stairs. Mrs. Riddleton took the injured party to the kitchen. I informed her of your summons, my lord, but she said you would understand why she was unable to respond immediately.'
Throwing up his hands, Hugh turned in exasperation to Lucien, who sat calmly behind his desk. 'I swear, Remington, that woman is a magnet for the injured.'
Laughing, Lucien rose and moved toward the door. 'We'll go see how they're faring. Then we'll retire somewhere private, and you can inform Mrs. Riddleton about Glenmoore's presence.'
When they reached the kitchen, they discovered a well-tended footman eating hot buttered scones, and no Charlotte. The servant leapt to his feet, flushing guiltily, but Remington waved him back down.
'Where the devil did she go?' Hugh asked a scullery maid, who stammered so terribly with fright in the face of his ill humor, he could hardly comprehend her.
'There was an ac-cc acci-ci-'
'Bloody hell. An
The maid nodded, and Hugh shot a glance at Remington, who was beginning to scowl.
'What happened now?' Lucien barked.
'Lady Denby broke her cup, Mr. Remington, and cut her finger.'
'Where?'
'The upper sitting room.'
Hugh and Remington took the servant's stairs to the upper floor, where they found Lady Denby with a bandaged finger, and no Charlotte.
Lucien sketched a quick bow before asking, 'Do you have any idea where we can locate Mrs. Riddleton, Lady Denby?'
The buxom brunette batted her eyelashes and offered a coy smile. 'Why, Lucien Remington, whatever do you need Mrs. Riddleton for?'
'I need her,' Hugh growled. He was starting to feel a mild panic under his frustration. If Charlotte was traipsing all over the premises, she was very likely to run into Glenmoore.
Lady Denby arched a brow. 'I see. Well, I would try the stables, then, Lord Montrose. I believe she mumbled something about checking on a horse.'
He released a deep breath and moved toward the door.
'The stables?' Lucien asked, following on his heels.
'Yes, yes, she's mad for horses.' Hugh moved down the hallway with impatient strides. 'One of my new carriage bays was injured when my wheel broke. She fussed over him the entire way here.'
Lucien's soft chuckle earned him a scathing glance over Hugh's shoulder. 'A magnet, you said.'
When they reached the stables, Hugh found his horse sporting a liniment-covered foreleg, and no Charlotte.
'Damn and blast and bloody, everlasting hell!' Hugh cried, kicking a stall door and sending a fine spray of hay into the air. If he didn't find her immediately, he would go mad. Well-and-truly mad.
His heart raced in a desperate rhythm as he pictured Glenmoore finding Charlotte before he did. She'd promised to keep Gwen hidden in return for the use of the manse. Who knew how Glenmoore would react if he discovered the two had not only left, but were attending a large social function. The duke had discarded her clothes and jewelry, and spent the last three years ensuring that she had no life whatsoever. Hugh could only imagine the malicious temper that would goad a man to retaliate so viciously against a woman as kind and nurturing as Charlotte.
'I've never seen you like this,' Lucien said softly.
'Like what?' Huge snapped, his hands clenching into fists.
'Like this. So concerned for another individual. Even when I wished to court Julienne, you weren't this upset.'
Hugh growled. ''Tis the damned Derbyshire water. I've never been the same since. I'm completely mad.'
'Yes, dear brother, I believe you are quite mad for her.' Remington's hand came to rest on his shoulder. 'It was bound to happen sometime.'
'What was bound to happen? What the devil are you rambling about?'
'You're in love with her.'
Lucien offered a commiserating smile as Hugh gaped and then sagged into the abused stall door. 'I know just how you feel. Someone had to tell me, too. I think men who are accustomed to lives of carnal indulgence find it harder to acknowledge how dependent their happiness can become on one woman.'
Shaking his head, Hugh considered himself carefully. He'd known Charlotte for such a short time. How could it be possible that he loved her already?
'How do you know?' he asked. 'How can you be certain?'
'When you are in love, you cannot stand to be away from your lover. Her touch, her smile, her attentions, are necessary things. You admire her above all other women; her faults are what you find charming. You want to care for her, protect her, be all things to her. Your desire for her stuns you, humbles you, and makes every other female pale in comparison.'
'Good God.' Hugh scrubbed a hand over his face. 'That sounds dreadful. And terrifying.' He dropped his hand and sighed. 'And very much like the way I feel about Charlotte.'
Patting him on the back, Lucien gestured toward the stable door. 'Let's go find her, shall we? Before you expire.'
'Oh, it's lovely,' Gwen breathed, running her hands reverently over the tiny pearls that encrusted the sleeves of
