More Than Charming Read online

  MORE THAN CHARMING

  by

  JOMARIE DEGIOIA

  www.lachesispublishing.com

  Published Internationally by Lachesis Publishing Inc.

  Rockland, Ontario, Canada

  Copyright © 2012 JoMarie DeGioia

  Exclusive cover © Laura Givens

  Inside artwork © 2012 Giovanna Lagana

  All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher, Lachesis Publishing Inc., is an infringement of the copyright law.

  A catalogue record for the print format of this title is available from the National Library of Canada

  ISBN 978-1-927555-13-2

  A catalogue record for the Ebook is available

  from the National Library of Canada

  Ebooks are available for purchase from

  www.lachesispublishing.com

  ISBN 978-1-927555-12-5

  Editor: Joanna D’Angelo

  Copyeditor: Giovanna Lagana

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  As always, I’m ever grateful to my family for their unfailing support. I also thank my agent, Michelle Grajkowski, and my wonderful editor, Joanna D’Angelo, for helping to bring this story starring my all-time favorite hero to life!

  Also Available

  More than Passion

  Pride and Fire

  MORE THAN CHARMING

  Chapter 1

  England, 1825

  “My lord, what a surprise it was to hear you were returning to town after all.”

  James Bradford, Viscount Roberts, smiled at his elderly butler. “Hello, Giles.”

  “How was your trip, my lord?”

  “The trip from Yorkshire was quite uneventful.” James shrugged. “Much like the past year, I’m afraid.”

  “And how is the earl?”

  “Father is as steady as the Thames.” James blew out a breath. “Lord, I’m weary.”

  “From such an uneventful trip?” Giles winked. “Pray tell me the master didn’t stop at any nefarious pubs along the way?”

  “No.” James smiled. “I suppose I’m just a bit out-of-sorts is all, being away from town for the past year. Have you heard any good gossip, Giles?”

  “Never let it be said that I carry tales, my lord.”

  James rolled his eyes.

  “Little to report, actually,” Giles said. “No young ladies debauched in our parlor, no angry husbands looking for you.”

  James laughed. “Hardly that when I was in town. I much prefer to charm my way through the ton, Giles, and take my physical pleasures elsewhere.”

  Giles nodded and followed James into his study. “And aren’t we all pleased about that?” The butler indicated a pile of letters and cards on top of the highly polished mahogany desk. “It would appear, my lord, that they have learned of your return to town.”

  James knew precisely to whom the man was referring. The matrons, with their eyes out for prospective husbands for their daughters, had sent him invitations to teas and dinners and the like.

  With a groan, James settled into the chair behind his desk. “And so it begins.”

  Giles watched him with a wry smile. “If I may speak, my lord.”

  “Giles, you’ve been in the service of the Bradford family since my father was a boy. Pray, don’t contain your candor now.”

  “There is a solution.”

  “Hmm?” James looked at him sharply, a brow arched. “A solution?”

  “Take a wife.”

  James rubbed his hand over his face. “Don’t start with that, Giles,” he said without anger. “Believe me, it’s all I heard in Yorkshire this past year.”

  “Ah, so the earl is inclined to agree with me?”

  “Never mind,” James said. “I’m just nine and twenty. Surely I’ve a few months left before I get leg-shackled.”

  James saw the butler’s smile, but thankfully Giles said no more on the subject. “Would you like something for dinner, my lord?”

  “What? Oh, yes,” James answered absently, his mind already on the invitations and the possible excuses he could use to extricate himself from the engagements. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get married—it was that he hated all of the nonsense that surrounded the Season. All the parading and posturing and matchmaking. He wanted the kind of marriages that his friends had, though. Strong and loving bonds with their wives. And passion. Damn, how he envied Kane and Leed, and now his good friend Chester was finally tying the knot. Soon he would be the only one left standing.

  Giles left James to see to his master’s meal, but reappeared in the doorway not a scant ten minutes later. “Viscount Leed to see you, my lord.”

  James felt a genuine smile curve his lips as his good friend Paul Talbot entered the room.

  “Roberts!” Paul said. “I heard you were once more here among the living.”

  “Leed.” James stood and extended his hand. “Good to see you, man.”

  The men exchanged a hearty handshake and Paul took a seat across from James. “And how did you leave Yorkshire?”

  “My father isn’t much improved, I’m afraid,” James answered. “But the doctor assures me he won’t worsen.”

  “Well, that’s something,” Paul said with a shrug. “Chester will be pleased you’re attending the wedding.”

  James smiled at that. “Yes. About time he quit dancing around that girl and married her.”

  “Truly.”

  “And how is your lovely wife, Leed?”

  “Michelle is perfection, thank you.”

  “And Rose?”

  A smile spread across Paul’s face. “The little imp is just like her mother, I daresay. Strong-willed and into mischief.”

  “I look forward to seeing Rose,” James said. “She was but a babe when I was last in town.”

  Paul nodded.

  “And your sisters?” James asked. “Are they well?”

  Something flickered over Paul’s face, gone so quickly James dismissed it.

  “Yes, the twins are fine,” Paul answered. “They’ll attend the wedding, of course.”

  Paul’s sisters, Catherine and Elizabeth were a year apart in age, but everyone always referred to them as “the twins” because they looked so much alike.

  “Ah. Willing dance partners.”

  Paul slanted a look at him. “If those papers on your desk are what I think they are, you’ll hardly be without willing dance partners. The lovely Catherine and Elizabeth notwithstanding, of course.”

  “These bloody ridiculous . . .” James picked the invitations up off the desk. “I feel like a prize horse up for auction, for God’s sake.” Without further hesitation, he swept the letters and cards into the wastebasket.

  “Roberts,” Paul began, “is something troubling you?”

  James let out a loud sigh and raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve had quite enough of so-called Society, Leed. Perhaps I’ll return to Yorkshire and spend the rest of my days in blessed solitude.”

  Paul chuckled. “Brooding doesn’t suit you, friend.”

  James couldn’t help but laugh. “Brooding is your forte, Lord Leed.”

  “Chester and I are venturing out to White’s this evening. To celebrate his last night of freedom, as it were. What say you, Roberts? Practice your brooding tomorrow and join us tonight?”

  James accepted with a grin. “Capital idea.”
/>
  * * *

  Lady Catherine Talbot sat in the parlor of her father’s elegant townhouse, perched on an ivory settee with her needlework in her lap. Her head was bent and her eyes were focused on her work. Her sister Elizabeth was chattering on about nothing in particular, as usual. It seemed to Catherine that not very long ago she’d have joined her sister in her silly banter. Oh, but that was before her Great Disgrace.

  “Oh, Catherine!” Elizabeth gushed. “I do wonder who will be in attendance at Lord Chester’s wedding.”

  Catherine shrugged. “I admit I don’t much care about the guest list, Elizabeth.”

  Up to this moment she’d given very little thought to the event itself, choosing not to think of anything remotely related to the subject of matrimony. The Earl of Chester was a very great friend of theirs and Catherine was happy for him and Constance, his bride, as they were two of the most wonderful people she’d ever met. But even though she was pleased for them, she couldn’t help but be reminded of her own aborted nuptials.

  “I just know Constance will make an absolutely beautiful bride,” Elizabeth went on, oblivious to Catherine’s disinterest. “Her dress sounds breathtaking, though I daresay it won’t have as much lace on it as yours did.”

  Catherine’s head shot up at the innocent comment despite herself.

  Regret was clear on Elizabeth’s face. “Oh, I do apologize, Catherine. It wasn’t my intention to remind you.”

  “Don’t fret, Elizabeth. It’s been nearly a year now. You may rest assured that I’m no longer put out by such comments.”

  Elizabeth looked at her with a mixture of doubt and pity, at which Catherine bristled. She gazed at the face so like her own, saw the innocence in Elizabeth’s eyes, and couldn’t summon anger. She felt as though much more than just one year separated them. Elizabeth seemed so young to her now. So carefree, whereas she felt much older thanks to having had her heart broken. Her heart had mended, thankfully, but she had come out of that ordeal completely changed. Or perhaps she’d just grown up? In any case, she only wanted to get on with her life and forget about the past.

  “Do you believe Lord and Lady Kanewood will be there?” Catherine asked, thinking to turn Elizabeth’s thoughts. Her question had the desired effect.

  “Oh, but of course,” Elizabeth answered.

  The girl prattled on, oblivious to the look of resignation on her sister’s face. Catherine lowered her head and tried to concentrate on her stitches once more, but her heart wasn’t in the task at hand. She’d felt out-of-sorts for weeks now, so tired of the forced frivolity associated with attending the whirlwind of balls and parties in town. She’d seen the looks the other women gave her—expressions of smug superiority or, worse, those of pity. Blessedly, she wouldn’t have to face such socializing this evening. Despite her younger sister’s attempts at persuasion, she declined to attend any of the parties. She looked forward to spending a quiet evening alone after Elizabeth and their father left for the bashes.

  “I do believe Lord Chester and Constance are deeply in love.” Elizabeth sighed after a while. “Don’t you think so, Catherine?”

  Catherine was quiet for a moment. She’d thought herself in love with Lord Thomas Waltham, her betrothed. And he with her. She couldn’t have been more wrong on that count. Who was she to judge such matters?

  “Of course, they are,” she said in the end, recalling the sweet looks the bride and groom always seemed to share.

  Teatime arrived, much to Catherine’s great relief. The maid entered the parlor and served the young ladies their tea and sweet biscuits. Knowing Elizabeth’s delight in the fluffy cookies, and well-bred manners that would keep her from talking with her mouth full, Catherine wasn’t surprised when the remainder of the afternoon passed in relative silence.

  * * *

  That evening at White’s the four gentlemen sat at a table, playing cards and sipping brandy. The Earl of Chester took some good-natured jesting from his friends, with Geoffrey Kane, the Earl of Kanewood, delivering the most barbs.

  “My God, Chester,” Geoffrey said. “You’ve known Constance for nearly three years. You’ve danced with her.”

  “Charmed her,” James put in.

  “I believe you take an awfully long time to accomplish your goals, old man,” Paul finished.

  “It’ll make for an interesting wedding night, I daresay.” Geoffrey laughed.

  Chester reddened. “Never mind. You’re the last one to talk of dragging one’s feet, Leed.”

  Paul smiled. “I believe I wished to be quite certain of my feelings before asking the fair Michelle for her hand.”

  Chester looked at him askance. “You would still be dragging your feet if you hadn’t come precariously close to preceding your wedding night.”

  Leed didn’t bat an eyelash. “Too true.”

  “What was your incentive for matrimony, Kane?” James asked.

  “Love, my friend,” Geoffrey answered. “It took me a while to recognize it, however.”

  James was suddenly quiet, but if the others noticed, no remark was made of it. As talk turned bawdier around him, he puzzled over Geoffrey’s words.

  Nearly three years earlier, James had fancied himself in love with Geoffrey’s wife. And while Becca had done nothing to encourage his attentions, he’d foolishly professed his feelings for her. She naturally refused him, but Geoffrey found them together and was furious, innocent though the circumstances. By a twist of fate however, James saved Becca’s life and earned Geoffrey’s forgiveness and undying gratitude.

  James now knew that what he’d felt for Becca was youthful infatuation. But what of love? He had no true notion of that prickly emotion. He wondered if he would even trust himself to recognize it if it did happen. His friends’ laughter broke through his reverie.

  “Roberts,” Chester said. “Where is your head?”

  “Hmm?” James answered.

  “I believe Roberts is still thinking about all those lovely invitations littering his desk,” Paul offered.

  “My God,” Chester moaned. “Not the matrons.”

  “Yes,” James answered. “Apparently, I’m still very much in demand among the drawing rooms of polite society.”

  “Better you than me, friend,” Chester said. “I’m most pleased my marriage will put an end to that business.”

  James forced a smile. Marriage. His father had talked of nearly nothing else in Yorkshire. The subject blessedly turned to other topics as the hour grew late.

  Paul stood and stretched, laying his cards on the table. “Well, gentlemen. I must be getting home.”

  Chester and Geoffrey nodded their agreement and made ready to take their leave.

  “Riding with me, Roberts?” Chester asked, shrugging into his jacket.

  “Thank you, no. I believe I’ll set out for the pubs.”

  The others exchanged a knowing look, which James didn’t miss. No matter. At least at the pubs, he’d give no more thought to love or marriage. He’d partake of some stout ale and perhaps a generous serving wench. He could do with some mindless release.

  * * *

  Long after her sister and father had departed, Catherine sat at the vanity in her pretty bedchamber and absently stared at her reflection in the oval mirror. Her heart-shaped face with its famous Talbot blue-violet eyes stared back at her. Her chestnut hair, so like both Paul’s and Elizabeth’s, was brushed and fell softly over her shoulders. But Catherine saw resignation in those blue eyes, defeat in the slump of those shoulders. What had she felt for Waltham, both before and after her Great Disgrace? Had she really loved him? She’d been quite pained when she’d learned that he’d eloped to Gretna Green with Lady Joan Banister. But was it the loss of the man or the loss of a dream that had stung so?

  She’d been much like Elizabeth then, flighty and silly with hardly a care in the world. Perhaps Waltham had done her a great service. He could have handled the matter with more care, however. Paul had wanted to kill the man with his bare hands when he
’d learned of the betrayal.

  Catherine smiled as she thought of her brother, so big and strong and handsome. And loyal. Was there a man like that for her? Someone who would love her and keep her safe?

  “Such maudlin thoughts,” she berated herself.

  With a sigh of irritation, she snuffed out the candle and climbed into bed. She dreamed that night of a man, strong and tall, reaching out to her and whispering love words and promising to be with her always.

  * * *

  James sat at a table in the corner of the pub, nursing a mug of ale. The place was poorly lit, the patrons alternating between loud and boisterous and sullen and morose. James fit himself into that last category.

  Suddenly, a woman filled his field of vision, a serving wench with whose favors he was very well acquainted.

  “Lord Roberts!” the girl gushed, a wide smile curving her mouth. “Where have you been keeping yourself?”

  James smiled up at her. “Hello, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie, tall, blonde, and well-endowed, flashed James a saucy grin and sat beside him. “I’ve missed you sorely, m’lord.”

  “Have you now?” James let his eyes fall on her bosom as he lightly fingered the handle of his mug of ale. “I’m certain you didn’t lack for male attention during my absence.”

  “Hardly.” She leaned toward him as he brought the mug to his lips, and she stroked his cock beneath the table. “But I’ve sorely missed your particular attention, m’lord.”

  The months of abstinence while in the country had apparently taken their toll, for he was suddenly as hard as the table beneath his elbow.

  James hesitated for the briefest moment. Why ever not? He drained the last of his ale, stood, and tossed several pound notes on the table. Lizzie quickly snatched up the notes and pocketed them. It was understood that the ample tip for service would be rewarded abovestairs.

  The room upstairs was as poorly lit as the pub. Lizzie shut the door behind him and removed his jacket and waistcoat. James closed his eyes and permitted her to remove the rest of his clothing. She led him over to the bed.