Seduced At Sunset (2 page)

Immediately following the meeting with her publisher,
Charlotte instructed her coachman to take her to Dr. Thomas’s medical offices
on Park Lane. A short while later she was greeted by the clerk at the front
desk and shown into her father’s study, which was located down a narrow
red-carpeted corridor at the rear of the clinic.

As always, Charlotte paused at the door to behold the
cluttered yet cozy state of the room, with books and papers piled high and
spread everywhere, and a faded coat of dark green paint on the walls. Aside
from the fact that there was a skeleton standing by the window, the room was
quite inviting, though definitely in need of a woman’s touch. Dr. Thomas needed
some help with organization. Charlotte suspected, however, that too much of it
might upset his professional balance. He was a brilliant surgeon who
specialized in diseases of the brain, and he probably knew the exact location
of every book and document in the building.

This was obviously his sanctuary, his place of private
reflection, where he researched the newest methods of scientific investigation.
Charlotte was exceedingly proud of her father, and pleased that he derived so
much pleasure from his work. He’d told her his work gave his life meaning, even
when he had been forced to endure certain disappointments.

He was referring, of course, to the loss of his great
love—Charlotte’s mother Adelaide, now the Dowager Duchess of Pembroke. It
had been years since Charlotte and Dr. Thomas spoke of it, but she knew the
hole in his heart would remain there forever, just as the hole in her own heart
would always be a part of her. ‘Like father like daughter,’ he once said to
her. ‘We are two peas in a pod.’

Not exactly, however, for his lost love was still alive
and now attainable. There was hope for them yet.

She heard her father leave one of the examination rooms
and approach her from behind. “William,” Charlotte said with a warm smile as
she waited in the doorway.

They were on intimate enough terms to use their given
names, at least in private, but he refused to let her call him ‘Papa.’ It was
not to be acknowledged.

“My darling girl,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the
cheek. “What brings you to London? Another meeting with your publisher, I
suspect? They must be so pleased with the success of your book.”

“Yes, and they are eager for me to finish the next one. My
editor had all sorts of questions about it this morning.”

“What sorts of questions?” he asked as he moved into the
room and closed the door behind them.

Charlotte took a seat in the leather chair in front of the
desk and told him more about her meeting.

After they had caught up on each other’s news, Charlotte
sat forward on the edge of her chair and folded her hands primly on top of her
reticule. “Did I mention that Mother is here in London as well?” she asked. “We
intend to stay for what’s left of the Season and will probably attend the
theater this week. Thursday, perhaps. Tomorrow we will walk in the park. What
plans do you have this week, William? Anything of note?”

She spoke in a light, casual tone, so as not to ram too
forcefully through the gate in the first five minutes, for she firmly believed
that matchmaking required a certain...
subtlety
. The
persons involved in the potential match must not feel they are being pressured,
persuaded, or manipulated. They must each believe they, alone, are the source
of the attraction, and that they are making their own choices without any
outside influences. Each must believe they are holding the reins.

Dr. Thomas sat back in his chair, removed his spectacles,
and laid them on the desk. “My plans for the week,” he replied, “involve a
great deal of research and reading. Which is exciting enough for a man like
me.”

She inclined her head at him. “What do you mean?
A man like you
. You speak as though you are a dull sort of
fellow, which is the farthest thing from the truth. Your work is fascinating. I
am sure Mother would love to hear about your latest research. She is very much
looking forward to our walk in the park tomorrow. The coachman will take us to
the Marble Arch entrance around two o’clock, I believe. I do hope it will be a
fair day. If it rains, we will hold off until the following day, but two
o’clock is such a fine time to walk in the park, don’t you agree? And the
Marble Arch is a convenient spot to begin. It is not far from here.”

Dr. Thomas inclined his head and studied her with some
curiosity.

Charlotte forced herself to stop talking, for she was
quite sure her subtlety had just slipped from her grip like a wet frog and was
hopping like mad out the open window.

“Are you trying to play the matchmaker, Charlotte?” he
asked with an amused look on his face.

She found herself relaxing, and chuckled softly as she
dropped her gaze. “There it is. My secret is out. You know me too well, I
suppose. I thought I could lure you innocently to the park, where you would
take one look at Mother and remember what you were to each other at one time.”
Her gaze lifted. “You haven’t seen her since the funeral. That was two years
ago.”

“How is she doing?” Dr. Thomas asked with a genuine note
of compassion in his tone. “I know it wasn’t easy for her in those final days
before the duke slipped away.”

“You were a great comfort to her,” Charlotte told him,
leaning forward to clasp and squeeze his hand on the desk. “I don’t know what
we would have done without you. Not just in those final days, but in all the
years when he was so...” She couldn’t finish, for there were no proper words
other than confused, delusional, impossible to care for.
Pitiful.

“I was happy to be of service,” Dr. Thomas said. “You know
how much I care for you and your mother, and for all of your brothers.”

Garrett especially—her twin—who like his
father, was now a surgeon himself. The two men worked together occasionally at
the medical school in London.

“I do know it,” Charlotte replied, “which is why I have
come. I would like to see Mother find happiness again. I thought perhaps you
and she might like to spend some time together while she’s in London.”

“You have given this a lot of thought,” he said with a
smile.

“Yes,” she openly admitted. “So what do you say? Could you
join us tomorrow for a walk in the park?”

Dr. Thomas slowly pulled his hand from her grasp and sat
back in his chair. He was quiet for a long moment, and his cool withdrawal
caused a knot of discomfort to form in her belly.

“I appreciate the invitation,” he said, “but I am afraid I
must decline. I have appointments booked and I am sorry, Charlotte, but your Mother
and I had our chance many years ago. She chose to marry the duke.”

“But it wasn’t really her choice,” Charlotte argued. “I
know what happened that night before the wedding. She only went through with
her marriage to protect you.”

“I didn’t need her protection,” he said. “All I wanted was
her
.” Then he quickly shook his head, waved his hand
as if to erase the conversation, and rose from his chair to stand in front of
the window. “I don’t want to discuss it any further. I care deeply for you and
Adelaide, but please understand that I cannot pursue the very thing that nearly
broke me on so many different occasions. I loved your mother and I dreamed of
her for years, but then the time came for me to move on with my life and accept
the fact that we were not meant to be together.”

“But she is free at last,” Charlotte argued as she watched
him stare out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. “Won’t you
consider giving it one more try?”

He faced her. “I am sorry, Charlotte. I am Adelaide’s
friend now, but nothing more.”

Charlotte stood up and approached him. “Please do not give
up so easily. Things are different now. She is a widow. She can do as she
wishes.”

“And what is it, exactly, that she wishes to do?” he
asked. “Do you even know?” He regarded Charlotte with a knitted brow. “Did she
send you here? Or is this your idea, alone?”

Charlotte looked down at the floor. “She doesn’t know I am
here. I didn’t want to push her—or you, for that matter. I had hoped we
could simply encounter each other by accident at the park tomorrow.”

“I see.” He sat down on the window ledge and pinched the
bridge of his nose. Then he looked up and inhaled deeply. “You must put this
out of your mind, my dear. When I told you I had moved on with my life, I meant
it. You say your mother is free at last, but the fact is...” He paused. “I am
not.”

He may as well have thrown a glass of cold water in her
face. Charlotte stepped back. “I don’t understand.”

He couldn’t be married. She was his daughter. He would
have told her.
Wouldn’t he?

“I have been courting someone,” he said.

Charlotte swallowed uneasily. “Is there an agreement
between you?” she asked as a sickening mixture of dread and disbelief flooded
into her stomach. “Do you intend to marry her?”

“That is the direction it has been heading for quite some
time,” he replied. “She is a lovely woman—also a widow—and
completely devoted to me. I have been a disappointed bachelor all my life, but
she adores me, Charlotte. I hope you can be happy for me.”

Charlotte looked into her father’s eyes and felt a
painful, aching love in her heart. Of course she wanted him to be happy, but
she had wanted a happily ever after for herself as well. She had believed she
could accomplish that by watching her true parents come together at last, fall
in love all over again, and walk down the aisle while the family threw white
flower petals at their feet.

But clearly that was not to be.

Somehow Charlotte found the strength to smile and take
hold of his hand. “Of course I am happy for you,” she said. “And I hope to meet
this woman one day soon. She must be very special.”

“I believe so,” he said. “But let us take it one day at a
time, shall we? I will introduce you when the time is right.” He moved to fetch
his spectacles from the desk. “Now I must see a patient, my dear.”

“Of course. I will take my leave.” Charlotte gathered up
her reticule from the chair.

A few minutes later, she was standing outside on the
breezy street, fighting a severe feeling of disappointment, and waving to her
coachman who had parked a few doors down. How many years had she dreamed of
seeing her parents finally reunited? The tragedy of their love affair always
seemed so unfinished. She had genuinely believed a happy ending was possible
for them.

Perhaps trying to play the matchmaker was her way of
dealing with her own lost love. Perhaps, by bringing her parents back together,
she would have been able to prove that the cracks and breaks in one’s heart
could be repaired one day. But it was not to be, and she was terribly unsettled
by that awareness. She had been so sure that William and Adelaide would end up
together. Was she truly a foolish dreamer? Was she living in a fantasy world?

The coach pulled up in front of her. She was about to step
inside and return to Pembroke House when a giant lump formed in her throat.
Good Lord. She couldn’t possibly face her mother until she collected herself.

She turned to her driver. “I’m afraid I am not ready to go
back yet. I would like to take a walk.” She pointed down the street. “I’ll just
go to that corner and turn up that street there. I’ll be back here in a quarter
of an hour.”

“Would you like George to accompany you?” the coachman
asked.

The footman stepped forward. “It would be my pleasure, my
lady.”

She gave him an appreciative smile. “Thank you, but I
would prefer to be alone with my thoughts. I shan’t be long.”

With that, she started down the street and turned at the
corner.

It was a quiet residential neighborhood into which she
ventured, and she strode at a brisk pace along the cement walk, looking around
at the townhouses and wondering who lived in them—anything to take her
mind off her botched attempt at matchmaking, and the fact that her parents were
never going to be together.

Then suddenly, rapid footsteps pounded along the pavement
behind her. She stopped to look back, wondering if there was some sort of
emergency. Before she had a chance to make sense of the man who was barreling
toward her, he grabbed hold of her reticule.

“What are you doing?” she cried as she gripped the purse
tighter, refusing to let go.

The thief tugged harder and nearly swung her around. “Let
go of it!” he shouted.

“I will not!” she replied as she leaned back to pull with
all her might.

Charlotte had been raised with four brothers who were not
above playing rough with her when they were children, and for that reason she
was made of stern stuff. Nevertheless, she was completely astonished when the
man shoved her back into the wrought iron fence in front of the closest
townhouse. Her head snapped back and a sharp pain resonated in her skull. She
was barely aware of her knees buckling as the world spun circles in front of
her eyes, and she crumpled to the ground in a haze of white.

Chapter Three

Drake Torrington was just exiting his townhouse when the
sound of a lady’s voice from across the street drew his attention.

“I will not!” she screamed.

He spotted her as she was knocked into the fence by a
scoundrel who made off with her purse.

Drake leaped down the steps, darted across the street, and
reached the woman in a matter of seconds. “Are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling
down to lay a hand on her shoulder, for she had collapsed.

She seemed dazed by the strike to the head, but then she
frowned up at him with a pair of gleaming blue eyes that upset his balance, for
he hadn’t seen a woman so beautiful in years—perhaps ever.