In the Bed of a Duke (18 page)

He kissed her forehead. “You are a source of inspiration. We’ll set off for Edinburgh within the hour.”

“Should we send a messenger to this Lord Monarch and warn him we are coming?” she asked.

“We will arrive before any messenger we send. Don’t worry,” he said in answer to her look of concern. “He’ll be happy to see us. He wants to curry favor. And his house would be the perfect place to spend some time and give Justin a bit of polish before taking him to London. We’ll go shopping for you, too. After all, I’ve lost your entire wardrobe with all of this,” he said, before dropping his voice to an intimate note. “Not that I don’t prefer you in absolutely nothing.” His hand at her waist pulled her closer.

Her pulse quickened. He had that power over her. He wielded it effortlessly. But before she could answer, he was already turning away. “I’ll get the horses ready. You prepare yourself.”

“What of Justin? Are you going to speak to him?”

Phillip hesitated before saying, “He needs a moment to consider how much his life is changing. I don’t believe it wise to discuss this with him now.”

As if he’d passed an edict she must obey, he left. A moment later, she heard the door to the inn open and close.

She looked down at the remains of cold food from their mostly uneaten breakfast and wondered just how far she was going to follow him.

“He can be a bastard, can’t he?” Justin’s voice said from the kitchen doorway.

Startled, Charlotte turned to him. He leaned on the doorjamb. “How long have you been there?”

Justin made a self-deprecating sound. “From the beginning.” He straightened. “I went storming off in the wrong direction and found myself in the kitchen with an innkeeper who is not fond of any of us.”

His honesty made her smile. “I understand why.”

He moved into the room. “Aye, I agree. What I don’t understand is how matters are between you and Lord Phillip.”

She heard the mockery in his voice over his brother’s new title. “He’s a good man.”

“He is. If he can get his head out of his—” He stopped, a gleam of mischief in his eye. “I should mind my manners. Not be so coarse.”

“You aren’t a blacksmith anymore,” she agreed.

The light in his eyes died. “What am I? A fool? A puppet?”

Charlotte pushed a chair into the table. “You are what you wish to be.”

“Will
he
let me?”

“Does he have a choice?”

“He could slit my throat and be done with me. No one but you would be the wiser.”

“And you’d believe I would keep silent?”

“Women do many foolish things for love.”

“Not I,” Charlotte answered, offended.

Justin’s face split into a grin. “I’ve got your back up, haven’t I?”

“Are you saying you are deliberately being provoking?” she countered.

“Aye.”

Charlotte leaned back, considering him. “To what purpose?”

“Perhaps for my own, Miss Cameron.”

She nodded. “And what purpose could that be, Mr. Maddox?”

The line of his mouth flattened. “I’m no Maddox. Mayhap I’ll be the duke, but that name has been burned in my soul as one of shame.”

“Phillip said there was no shame. He defends his family’s reputation.”

“Phillip and I disagree on many matters. We’ve only scratched the surface. You were right, Miss Cameron. I’m not a lapdog. Not anymore.”

She believed him. This past week had changed
all three of them, but he more than her and Phillip. “What shall I call you?” she asked quietly. “Are you ready to be referred to as the duke?”

“Call me Justin.”

Their gazes met with understanding. “You like the name.”

“Aye, the man I was is dead. I’m no fool, Miss Cameron—”

“Charlotte,” she corrected.

He smiled. “Charlotte,” he said, testing the name. “I’m no fool although I realize I’ve been played one for years. The laird is a sly one. He knew from the beginning what he was doing. I see that now.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Moira. He arranged my marriage to Moira when we were both too young to know better, and I was happy to stay right where he wanted me.”

“And then he took her away.”

Justin shrugged, his expression hardening. “I don’t know if he was that clever. Once Bruce noticed her, she changed. It’s hard for a man who suspects his wife is being unfaithful. If he loves her, he wants to pretend ignorance.”

Charlotte heard the pain of experience in his words. “Why would you want her to stay if she didn’t love you?”

His gaze slid to hers. “Now you sound like the MacKenna. That was his question to me before he
ordered me to divorce her. It’s all a game to him, and she is a prize. Bruce loves her as much as I did. Now she shackles him to the laird.”

“But you’d go back to her.”

He shook his head. “No. Never. Every time I look at the scar her knife will have left in my shoulder, I’ll remember she’d wanted to bury that dirk into my heart. Some things sober a man, Charlotte.”

“It’s a pity it had to go to that extreme,” she agreed.

He smiled, the expression bitter, before saying, “Don’t feel sorry for me, Charlotte. You love him, don’t you, lass? Ah, you don’t have to answer. I know the look. The first thing you lose is your principles. I begged for Moira back, Charlotte. I embarrassed myself. But I learned a valuable lesson.”

“What lesson?” she asked, almost afraid to breathe until she heard the answer.

He stepped closer, his words for only the two of them to hear. “I learned that you don’t settle. That you have the right to expect your lover to be as honest and open as you are. It doesn’t work when one has nothing to lose, and the other has everything.”

Dear God, it was as if he’d read her fears and doubts.

But before she could speak, Phillip’s voice
came from the hallway door. “Am I interrupting something?”

Both she and Justin turned away while heat surged to her cheeks. She hated blushing. It made her look guilty.

“We were discussing my divorce,” Justin said, easily.

Phillip walked into the room. Charlotte could feel him studying her. She met his eye.

“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” Phillip said, returning his attention to his brother. “What conclusions did the two of you reach?” There was a challenge in his voice, a challenge Charlotte didn’t quite understand.

But Justin did.

“We’ve no conclusions,” he said. “Not yet.”

“You won’t,” Phillip assured him.

Charlotte looked from one to the other. There was a current flowing between them. They understand without words what was being said. She didn’t know if it was because they were twins, or men.

Justin caught her confusion. “It’s fine, lass. All is well between us.”

“Thus far,” Phillip amended with his customary caution. But then, he shifted his mood. “I’ve been thinking about the divorce.”

“And?” Justin queried, the word testy.

“We should follow it up with an annulment.
I’ll make the arrangements. Divorce is a sticky problem in England. I know you Scots are more lenient—”

“We’re not lenient at all. I know it cost the laird a pretty penny and me my pride.”

“Well, it’s not done in England. Not done at all,” Phillip said decisively. “But if we put through an annulment, there will be no questions in the future.”

“My marriage was consummated, well and good,” Justin declared. “I’ll not stand before any man and say I could not take care of my wife.”

Phillip frowned his impatience. “You don’t have to stand before anyone. We’ll leave it to the lawyers. They will find a reason, and once they do, the clergy will agree. It will all be done very quietly.”

“There is no reason. We were married right and proper.”

“Leave it to the lawyers,” Phillip pressed again. “For the right price, everyone will agree, and we’ll not need to worry about this matter.”

“Why do I sense that you are rather happy to be giving up this ducal kingdom?” Justin asked.

His shrewd insight caught both Phillip and Charlotte by surprise. Phillip’s twin was no fool. In some ways, he would make a more dangerous enemy than Phillip.

“I’m doing what is right, brother,” Phillip said,
using the word “brother” with deliberate intention. “And it is for that same reason I shall insist on an annulment.”

Justin appeared ready to argue, but then capitulated. “Do as you wish.”

“I usually do,” Phillip answered briskly. He clapped his hands together. “Are we ready to travel?”

Charlotte realized she’d not done a thing to prepare. “Give me a moment,” she promised, and started out of the room toward the staircase.

“Let me help,” Justin said, coming after her.

“No, that’s fine,” she said. “I’ll only be few moments.”

Phillip waited until she was gone to tell Justin what was
really
on his mind. “Stay away from her. She’s mine.”

Justin walked over to the corner where he’d leaned the Sword of the MacKenna. He picked up the weapon before answering, “You have no claim on her, brother.”

“And stop calling me brother in that tone of voice,” Phillip added.

“What tone?” Justin asked, sounding innocent.

Phillip couldn’t help but swear. “If I’d known a brother would be this much of an irritant, I would have left you where you were.”

“I understand,” Justin said easily. “However, let us be honest with each other. Charlotte is not only beautiful but courageous. She deserves better than being played the doxy.”

“I could call you out for that,” Phillip answered.

“Call me out?” Justin lifted an eyebrow. “For what? Speaking the truth. You can go to the devil.” He started out of the room, the Sword of the MacKenna in his hand, not even bothering to choose a different direction. Instead, he walked right in front of Phillip.

Phillip blocked his path with an arm across the doorway. “She’s mine,” he said.

“She is yours,” Justin agreed. “But be careful you don’t lose her. After all, every woman wants to marry a duke.” He pushed his way past and went down the hall and out the door.

Phillip stared after him, unable to move or think as he realized the truth in Justin’s words and exactly what he’d given up. Up until this moment, he’d been willing to hand his title to his brother. It was the right and honorable thing to do.

However, it might cost him Charlotte.

He’d not considered that possibility—not until he’d walked into this room and found her and Justin so cozy. The jealousy that had surged through him had been alarming, but he’d managed to keep appearances intact.

Charlotte wanted to marry a duke…and he no longer was one.

In fact, he no longer was sure
what
he was, a realization that shook him to his soul. For the first time, he realized he was going to have to be considered as a man, not a duke.

A Cameron had already jilted him once. The scandal had humiliated him, but it had also prepared him for accepting his brother.

However with Charlotte, his heart was involved.

Footsteps warned him she was coming down the stairs. He turned to greet her. She smiled and his heart seemed to stop.

It was then he also realized that his love for Charlotte Cameron wasn’t going to be a static thing. It grew and had been growing from that first kiss.

If he wasn’t careful, she could crush him.

She immediately sensed the change in him. “Phillip, is something wrong?”

Yes, everything.

He shook his head, more to clear his senses. “No, everything is fine,” he said.

“Good. Is Justin waiting outside?”

Justin.
A man Phillip had pitied because he’d been willing to trust a woman he loved, a woman everyone but he could see was mercenary.

“Yes, he is,” Phillip answered, sounding more curt than he intended. She was so beautiful…but what if she really wanted a duke? It had been her purpose, her dream.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

“Yes, I’ll be out in a moment,” he answered, wanting to put his jumbled thoughts together.

“I’m going ahead,” she said with her customary independence.

And watching her go, he knew he must be careful, or he could be played for a fool as his brother had been.

He might not be a duke much longer, but he had a duke’s own pride…and a man’s realization that Charlotte was the one woman who could expose all his vulnerabilities. She could destroy him.

And for that reason, Phillip would keep his heart secret. The risk was too great. Let her be the one to speak first. Then, and only then, would he allow himself the freedom of his heart.

When he went outside, Justin and Charlotte were already on their horses and laughing companionably…and once again, he was the outsider.

“Let’s go,” he said curtly. “We don’t have time to dawdle.” He didn’t wait for an answer but kicked Homer into a trot.

C
harlotte sensed a change in Phillip, but she couldn’t understand why. He’d become distant and yet, more protective. He kept himself between her and Justin and frowned anytime either of them laughed.

It was as if they traveled with a Puritan.

“He’s jealous,” Justin whispered to her.

“Of what?” she wondered.

“Me.”

The idea was so outlandish, she laughed. They’d stopped for a moment on the road. Phillip had stepped away for some privacy. Otherwise, she could not have spoken to Justin at all.

“It’s true,” Justin said. “I told him he didn’t deserve you.”

Shocked, Charlotte asked, “Why did you say that?”

“Because he doesn’t. You love him, don’t you?”

She nodded, upset to realize how transparent she was…and how weak. She was now defenseless to the world, her reputation in tatters, and yet, she could not help herself. “He and I really don’t know each other.”

Justin gave a bark of laughter. “What does that mean? That you haven’t formally been introduced?” He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all rot. If a man wants a woman, he should say so. Until he does, she’s fair game.”

Her eyes widened. Was he saying he wanted to court her?

He smiled, the expression sly. “You are a beautiful woman, Charlotte,” he said, his voice warm.

She stumbled backward. “Oh, no. No. I’m not some game. If this is nonsense between you and Phillip, leave me out of it.”

This time, Justin’s smile was genuine. “Come along, lass, you can’t expect me not to want to tweak his nose a bit.”

She shook her head, uncertain. Justin was completely different than his twin. Phillip was straightforward. He said what he believed. She wasn’t so certain Justin did.

However, before she could ask questions, Phillip returned. He took in the scene of Justin and Charlotte, and his scowl deepened.

“Mount up,” he ordered, and practically manhandled Charlotte up on the back of her bay.

Justin caught her eye and gave her an “I told you so” smile.

However, for as difficult as Phillip was being to her, he and Justin actually started to become better acquainted. She and Phillip were both surprised at how quick Justin’s mind actually was. He told them about the priest’s teaching him to read. He didn’t know Greek, but he had a smattering of Latin and a head for figures honed by years of running his own smithy.

That night, they stayed at a widow’s cottage. Justin and Phillip paid for their board by doing chores.

“Which one of those bonny men are yours?” the widow asked Charlotte. “Or does it make a difference with them being twins?” She chuckled over her own humor.

Heat rushed to Charlotte’s cheeks as she realized what the woman had
really
assumed.

Charlotte prayed to God that Constance never learn of this escapade. In fact, her big worry was Constance.

Constance must marry and marry well. Charlotte would be mortified if her sister had such a relationship as the one she now had with Phillip.

However, that evening, up in the widow’s hayloft, when Phillip held out his hand for her, she went. She couldn’t help herself.

As for him, he made love to her as if this night was their last. He turned her inside out. In his arms she became a creature of passion…and yet, he never spoke of a future between them. When he talked about anything beyond the moment, it was his plans to stop MacKenna or for Justin’s future.

He didn’t mention her and him together. No talk of love, and so she kept what was in her heart secret, where it would be safe.

The next morning they were up at dawn. Phillip readied the horses. “Where is Justin?” Charlotte asked.

A beat later she found out when the cottage door opened. Justin came swaggering out, tucking his shirt in his breeches, the Sword of the MacKenna hanging from his belt and a cloth sack in his hand. He’d not taken a step or two before the widow came hurrying out and gave him a passionate kiss.

Phillip and Charlotte could do nothing but wait. At last, the widow had her fill. “Godspeed, my bonny man,” she said in her musical burr.

Justin gave her a pat on the rear for remembrance. He mounted his horse, a grin on his face from ear to ear.

Phillip waited until they were out of sight of the cottage before he said, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Aye and so did she. Enough to feed us breakfast.” He held up the sack. “Bread, cheese, and a jar of cider.”

“I thought you didn’t like cheese,” Phillip said.

“I like anything that woman offered,” Justin said, and set his mare Butter off at a happy trot.

They stayed the next night with a Presbyterian family. Again, Phillip introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

And so, living hand to mouth, they made their way to Edinburgh. After that initial morning, Phillip and Justin didn’t fight. Not once. And it was sounding more and more like they had known each other all their lives. The most amazing moment to Charlotte was when they had a belching contest, and Phillip won.

“Never, not even in my wildest imagination, would I have imagined you making such a rude noise,” Charlotte said to Phillip.

He laughed, sounding more carefree than she’d ever heard him. “It’s schoolboy nonsense, Charlotte. I’ve had my share of that.”

And yet, she sensed that he hadn’t. Justin was proving to be more outgoing than Phillip, more willing to play the clown and entertain. Perhaps because he had not ever had the weight of expectation on his shoulders. She wondered what he would have been like if he’d not been stolen from
his parents. Would both the twins be somber and serious?

At last, they reached Edinburgh. Phillip had no trouble discovering where Lord Monarch lived. His family was an old established one and, although not wealthy, they owned a yellow limestone home in the heart of town.

“I wish to see Lord Monarch,” Phillip announced to the butler who answered the door.

The servant looked at Phillip, who stood in shirtsleeves, breeches, and scuffed boots, up and down and didn’t like what he saw. “He’s not at home, sir.”

Charlotte and Justin would have gone down the steps, but Phillip didn’t budge. “He is at home, and I wish to see him now.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, but the servant heard the tone of authority. He reconsidered and opened the door wider. “Please come inside.”

Once they were in the foyer, the butler said, “If you will excuse me, I shall announce you—”

He paused for a name.

Phillip smiled. “The Duke of Colster. He knows me.”

The servant looked from Phillip to Charlotte and Justin, the three of them looking the worse for their travels. “Very well…Your Grace,” the butler said, and backed out.

“He doesn’t believe you,” Justin said.

“He believes me,” Phillip answered.

A minute later, Lord Monarch himself came to greet them and recognized Phillip immediately, or thought it was Phillip. He first walked over to Justin with his hand out, and then stopped when he realized there were two of them.

Before Phillip could make the introductions, Lord Monarch noticed the sword at Justin’s side.

His face under his red hair went pale. He turned to the butler. “Harris, go speak to Cook. Tell her we shall have three guests for dinner.” The moment the butler was beyond earshot, he demanded, “How did you come by that sword?”

“You know the weapon?” Phillip asked.

“I’ve heard its history,” Lord Monarch answered.

Phillip moved close to the young lord. “Are you loyal to the king?”

“What has MacKenna done?” Lord Monarch asked.

Without answering him, Phillip posed the question again.

“Aye, I’m loyal,” Lord Monarch said, sounding irritated. “MacKenna is a fool.”

“Then let’s talk,” Phillip answered. “I’ve got quite a story to tell. But first, let us see to Miss Cameron’s comfort.”

Lord Monarch went rigid.
“Who?”
he asked, the word shooting out of him.

“Miss Cameron,” Phillip said.

“Cameron?” Lord Monarch repeated in amazement. “
The
Miss Cameron?”

Phillip enjoyed Monarch’s reaction although it discomforted Charlotte. Well, they might as well become accustomed to this. “No, not
the
,” he said, adding to his brother, “He’s talking about Miranda, Charlotte’s sister, the one who jilted me.”

Justin nodded, noticing Charlotte’s surprise. “He told me.”

“When?” she asked.

“We talk.”

“This is what I mean about the gossip in London,” Phillip instructed him. “Although I’d not imagined you, Monarch, as the sort to take part in tongue rattle.”

“I’m not,” Lord Monarch assured him.

“Good,” Phillip said, “because I have a story to tell and must rely on your ability to keep a confidence. By the way, do you have brandy? It’s been a long week.”

“Why, yes, I do, Your Grace.”

“Good,” Phillip said. “Lead us to it, and you don’t mind if we stay a day or so? We need clothes and to get this MacKenna matter settled before returning to London.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Monarch said, a bit befuddled as if still in shock that the Duke of Colster
had come knocking on his door. He led them into a reception room with a several decanters waiting a thirsty visitor.

While he poured drinks, Phillip explained in a low voice to Justin and Charlotte, “I’m not correcting him because I believe he is in enough shock. It’s a taste of what we shall meet in London. But don’t worry,” he added cheerily. “Being a bit of a scandal broth isn’t the worse thing that could happen. This will make them all forget about the jilting.”

And he was happy, Phillip realized. A week ago, the idea of being the subject of anyone’s gossip would have set his teeth on edge, but today, he didn’t mind. In fact, he really didn’t care what others thought.

It was such a radical notion, it made him pause, amazed by the transition in himself.

Accepting a glass of sherry for Charlotte, he realized as he handed it to her that she was the reason. Charlotte and her direct, practical response to the world and situations around her.

She wasn’t afraid to confront him, to let him know her mind or tell him when he was wrong. He was also beginning to realize there were some things more important than his pride.

“Your brandy is good, Monarch,” Phillip said. He caught a glimpse of the cautious way Justin was approaching the wine. Just as his brother
started to take a swig, Phillip shook his head and demonstrated how to “taste” it.

“I actually prefer whiskey,” Monarch said.

“I do, too,” Justin agreed quickly.

A hint of a smile appeared on the mild-mannered lord’s face. “Would you like one?”

“If it wouldn’t trouble you,” Justin answered.

“No trouble at all. I was going to pour one for myself.” Monarch poured two glasses, and then like the Scotsmen they were, he and Justin sampled them without airs and with relish.

“I wouldn’t be standing if I drank like that,” Phillip said.

“That’s because you are a lily white Sassenach,” Justin answered, and helped himself to another one.

Monarch looked between the two brothers, a charmed expression on his face. “This is amazing. Amazing.”

“You’re surprised? You should see how we feel,” Justin said with his blunt wit, and all of them, including Charlotte, laughed.

“My wife is in Glasgow,” Monarch said, apologizing. “That’s why she isn’t here to greet you. I know she will be saddened to miss your visit. I’ll have the guest rooms made up.” He rang a bell, a signal for his butler. “I’m certain Miss Cameron is anxious to relax.”

“That’s kind of you,” Phillip answered, and
then almost casually mentioned, “Put her in my room.”

If he’d hit Monarch over the head with a board, the man would not have had a different reaction.

Phillip would not apologize, or look at Charlotte. She slept with him. That was what he wanted, and that was what would happen. He couldn’t give her up.

He also knew Monarch would not challenge him. If there was an uncomfortable silence, Phillip didn’t care. She belonged with him.

Charlotte felt betrayed.

It took all her courage to sit calmly and sip her sherry. Her ruin was complete. Lord Monarch, a very capable and earnest young nobleman, knew she was Phillip’s mistress…and there was nothing she could do about it.

She sat, pretending to listen as Phillip told their story. She dared not look at Lord Monarch. If she did, she’d crumble.

Justin knew how she felt. And Phillip did, too. He knew, and he’d humiliated her anyway.

“We have to stop MacKenna,” Phillip concluded.

“Or?” Lord Monarch asked.

“Or Scotland will go up in flames,” Phillip answered.

Lord Monarch glanced at Justin. The two understood each other as Scots.

It was Justin who said quietly, “Phillip, if the laws don’t change, we’ll go up in flames anyway.”

Phillip set his brandy glass down and hit the arm of his chair with his fist. “I will not let MacKenna keep an army up there. More lives will be lost.”

“Chances are, he’s gone,” Lord Monarch said. “If he hasn’t chased after you, he’s been busy moving his people.”

“He didn’t chase us because we burned his barn,” Phillip answered.

“With all due respect, Your Grace, we Scots are more canny than that,” Lord Monarch answered.

Charlotte thought he was right.

In the end, the gentlemen decided to invite the local British authorities to dinner the following night. Lord Monarch knew these men and felt they could be trusted.

It was done. Their adventure was finished.

Phillip rose and offered Charlotte his arm. She felt as if she moved in a dream. She could have refused. She didn’t. They followed the butler up to their set of rooms. The bedroom was of modest decoration in a very relaxing blue. It overlooked the garden. There was warm water to bathe with in the basin, clean towels, and a bouquet of flowers on the dresser.

Someone had even been kind enough to provide a brush for her use.

Charlotte washed, taking her time and not quite wanting to meet Phillip’s eye. She could feel him watching but still, she was surprised when his hand took her arm and he swung her around.