How to Tempt a Duke. Кейси Майклс

of the twins, who am I to question her judgment? But they’re…they’re not little girls anymore, Charlie, are they?”

      “Charlotte,” she said without much hope of him heeding her. “And, no, they’re not. Nor are they young women, much as Nicole would like to believe otherwise. Last week I caught her in Emmaline’s chamber, attempting to put up her hair and wearing a rather garish pair of gold and ruby earrings Emmaline must have regretted the moment she purchased them.”

      Rafe shot a glance toward the settee, where the girls were holding hands and whispering to each other. “I begin to miss the war,” he said dully. “Too old for the nursery, too young for a Season. What in God’s name am I supposed to do with them?”

      “What else?” Charlotte said. “You leave them here in the country while you go cut a dash in London. You conveniently forget about them until it’s time to dress them up like Christmas puddings and send them out to the marriage mart, praying nineteen to the dozen that at the end of the Season you don’t have to haul either of them back to the country again. What else do families do with daughters?”

      Rafe grinned. “Do I detect a hint of censure in your voice, Charlie? Were you one of those hauled back to the country? Well, of course you were. Are all the men in London blind? Or were you really waiting for me to return home?”

      Charlotte felt a rush of color invade her cheeks at his words, even if she probably shouldn’t take any of them seriously. “I only said that because you’d made me angry,” she lied, and then nearly cheered as Grayson approached them to inform His Grace that his friend Captain Fitzgerald had arrived.

      “A most…singular gentleman, Your Grace,” Grayson said, his tone making it clear that he had not just complimented the captain. “He desires your presence at once, sir.”

      “He does, does he? I’d rather think my good friend Captain Fitzgerald demands my presence.”

      “Yes, Your Grace. I knew him for your friend the moment he opened his mouth.”

      “An insult wrapped in velvet. Very good, Grayson.” Rafe took Charlotte’s hand and turned her back toward the entrance hall. “Come on, Charlie. I want you to meet a fellow reprobate.”

      “I wouldn’t wish to intrude—”

      “Nonsense.With Emmaline doing her flit, I don’t know what I would have done if I’d had to face those sisters of mine without you. I want my friend to meet my friend.”

      Charlotte smiled weakly. How wonderful. Just perfectly marvelous. Rafe considered her his friend. His childhood friend. Charlie. Feeling a bit apprehensive about his new station in life and all the attendant responsibilities, his aunt Emmaline not here, not even recognizing his sisters, he probably felt about Charlotte as he did his most comfortable old pair of socks.

      While she—well, what did she feel about him, for him? She didn’t know. She’d loved the Rafe he’d been; the child she’d been had loved the youth he’d been. What would she discover about the Rafe he was now?

      He looked on her as his friend, held her hand as a friend. Would he ever want more? And what would she do if he did? Would she tell him the truth? How would he look at her with those dangerous eyes of his if she did?

      Suppressing a shiver, she followed him into the entrance hall.

       Chapter Two

      RAFE TUGGED CHARLOTTE along with him as he returned to the entrance hall to see Captain Swain Fitzgerald being supported between two footmen, his splinted leg looking awkward as he kept his foot from touching the marble floor.

      “There you are,” Fitz bellowed when he caught sight of Rafe. “Do none of these idiots bloody understand the King’s English? I want my crutches. Nobody will fetch me my damned crutches. They keep telling me that His bloody Grace insists they carry me. Damn it, Rafe, I’ll not be hauled about like some bleeding baby.”

      “Grayson, see to it, please,” Rafe said, letting go of Charlotte’s hand and going over to lend his support to his friend. “Act like a baby, be treated like a baby. Why does it bother you so much to be helped? Or do you plan to crawl upstairs to your bed?”

      “Bed? Oh, no, Rafe Daughtry, I’m not going to be carted off to any sickbed, no matter what that fancy London surgeon of yours said. I’m fine, better than fine, and perfectly capable of doing for myself. Just get me my damned—Well, hullo, young lady.”

      Rafe grinned at the sudden change in his friend’s tone. “Yes, Fitz, a lady, as opposed to your usual sort of female. Behave yourself, and I’ll introduce you, you great hairy Irish ape.”

      “Pretty little thing. One of those twin sisters of yours?” Fitz whispered close to Rafe’s ear. “Or can I take a run at her?”

      “That depends. Are your intentions honorable?”

      “Six and twenty years on this earth and they haven’t been honorable yet,” Fitz said, still whispering.

      “I can hear you, you know,” Charlotte said from where she stood just in the doorway between the main saloon and the entrance hall. “Both of you.”

      Fitz looked at Rafe in panic. “She can’t hear me. Tell me she can’t hear me.”

      “I’m sorry, Fitz but, yes, she can,” Rafe said, laughing at his friend’s expression. He was only amazed that she would say so. Then again, he’d been fairly amazed by everything about Charlotte since he first set eyes on her. Her stunning good looks, her pert tongue, her refusal to be overly impressed by his title even as she paid mocking deference to it. She intrigued him mightily.

      Charlotte walked forward, stopping only a few feet away from the grinning Fitz. She looked him up and down as if assessing his injury, and then smiled into his face. “I don’t think you’ll be taking a run anywhere for quite some time, Captain.”

      “Fitz, ma’am, if you please, and I most truly beg your pardon. It’s just that it has been many a long year since I’ve been blessed to be in the company of a real lady, and never since I’ve been in the presence of any woman as lovely as you.”

      “How very flattering, Captain,” Charlotte said, dropping into a small curtsy. “I can see I must be very careful, or else a silver-tongued rogue like you might just break my maidenly heart.”

      Now Rafe gave a shout of laughter, forgetting himself enough to give his friend a hearty slap on the back, which nearly sent Fitz to the floor. “Oops, sorry, Fitz. I shouldn’t want to knock your one good leg out from under you. Especially as Miss Seavers has already done it for me. Miss Charlotte Seavers, allow me to belatedly introduce you to my friend and companion for too many years to contemplate, Captain Swain Fitzgerald. Fitz, make your bow to Charlie.”

      “Hello, Fitz,” Charlotte said. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She shot a quick look at Rafe. “As we’re very informal here in the country, please call me Charlotte.”

      “So this is your Charlie, is it? You must have been a very slow youth, Rafe, my friend, not to see what a lovely piece of perfection your Charlie is. How you could have left her, I’ll never know.”

      Rafe glanced at Charlotte, who immediately avoided his eyes.

      “Ha, now I’ve made him mad, and put you to the blush, haven’t I, Miss Seavers? Charlotte. I beg pardon, and I’m honored to meet you.” Fitz looked toward the doorway. “Ah, and here are my crutches. Pass them over, if you please.”

      “Don’t,” Rafe warned the approaching footman. “I wouldn’t want them close enough for my friend here to use to beat me into flinders when I say what must be said. I only sent for your crutches, Fitz, so you’d stop shouting for them to be brought to you. Grayson, see that the crutches are well hidden and Captain Fitzgerald is carried upstairs to one of the bedchambers.”

      “Damn and blast you to the far corners of