His Wicked Charm

CANDACE CAMP is a New York Times bestselling author of over sixty novels of contemporary and historical romance. She grew up in Texas in a newspaper family, which explains her love of writing, but she earned a law degree and practiced law before making the decision to write full-time. She has received several writing awards, including the RT Book Reviews Lifetime Achievement Award for Western Romances. Visit her at www.candace-camp.com.

Also available from Candace Camp

The Mad Morelands

MesmerisedBeyond CompareWintersetAn Unexpected Pleasure

The Aincourts

So Wild a HeartThe Hidden HeartSecrets of the Heart

The Matchmaker Series

The Marriage WagerThe Bridal QuestThe Wedding ChallengeThe Courtship DanceAn Independent WomanA Dangerous Man

The Lost Heirs

A Stolen HeartPromise Me TomorrowNo Other LoveSuddenlyScandalousImpulseIndiscreetImpetuousSwept Away

His Wicked Charm

Candace Camp

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08076-7

HIS WICKED CHARM

© 2018 Candace Camp

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Praise for New York Times bestselling authorCandace Camp

‘An exemplary read.’

Publishers Weekly on So Wild a Heart

‘From its delicious beginning to its satisfying ending, Camp’s delectable story offers a double helping of romance.’

Booklist on Mesmerised

‘[Camp] is renowned as a storyteller who touches the hearts of her readers time and time again.’

RT Book Reviews

‘A smart, fun-filled romp.’

Publishers Weekly on Impetuous

‘A clever mystery adds intrigue to this lively and gently humorous tale, which simmers with well-handled sexual tension.’

Library Journal on A Dangerous Man

‘Delightful.’

Publishers Weekly on The Wedding Challenge

‘A beautifully crafted, poignant love story.’

RT Book Reviews on The Wedding Challenge

‘[A] beautifully written charmer.’

Publishers Weekly on The Marriage Wager

‘The talented Camp has deftly mixed romance and intrigue to create another highly enjoyable Regency romance.’

Booklist on An Independent Woman

Contents

Cover

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Praise

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

1892

THE DOOR OPENED. The room beyond lay in darkness, broken only by a swath of moonlight. There was no reason to be frightened, yet some nameless, faceless terror iced Con’s veins. Still, he stepped inside. The fear in him was worse.

The walls of the room were curved, disorienting, and everywhere he looked were clocks—standing, hanging, scattered over tables and stands, lined up in cabinets. Brass hands winked, catching the dim light. Con moved farther in, his heart pounding, and stopped at a narrow table. The tiered rows were padded with dark velvet, and they were lined with not clocks, but compasses, their needles pointing in unison toward the windows. Turning now, he saw that compasses stood in the cabinets and hung on the walls amid the clocks.

He was too late. He knew it with a certainty that closed his throat: he would fail. Con ran toward the window, but he didn’t move. The needles on the compasses began to whirl. Running, gasping, he reached out, knowing he’d never reach it in time. Someone screamed.

Con’s eyes flew open, and he jerked upright in the bed. His lungs labored in his chest, his heart thundering, and he clenched his muscles, fists curled so tightly his fingernails bit into his palms. Sweat dried cold on his skin.

It was a dream.

He glanced around him. He was in his own bed, in his own room. It was only a dream.

Through the open doorway to the adjoining sitting room, he could see Wellie perched in his cage, regarding Con with bright black eyes. That scream must have been the parrot’s screech.

The bird moved from foot to foot and rasped out, “Wellie. Good bird.”

“Yes. Good bird.” Con’s voice came out almost as hoarse as Wellington’s. He sank back onto his pillow, closing his eyes. It had been nothing but a bad dream and easily explained—today was Alex’s wedding day. He was worried about oversleeping and failing in his duties. The problem was he’d been having the exact same nightmare for weeks.

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN CON AWOKE AGAIN, sunlight was shooting through a crack in the drapes straight into his eyes. For the second time, he bolted upright. Heaven help him. After all that, he’d overslept. He jumped out of bed and began to shave.

Wellington called Con’s name and flew into the room, taking up his favorite position atop a bedpost. “You wretched bird—screeching like a banshee in the middle of the night, yet not a word when it’s time to get up.”

Wellie let out a noise that sounded disturbingly like human laughter. Con grinned and patted his shoulder for Wellie to perch on it. Con stroked a finger down the parrot’s back.

“It’s just you and me now, boy,” he said softly. “Alex is going on to better things.”

There was an odd pang in his chest; Con had felt it more than once lately. He couldn’t be happier for his twin—Sabrina was perfect for Alex and loved him madly. Alex was over the moon about marrying her. There was nothing in the world Con wanted more than his brother’s happiness. And yet…he could not help but feel as if a piece of him was leaving.

With a sigh at his own selfishness, Con set Wellie aside and headed downstairs. He found Alex in the dining room, gazing out the window—shaved, dressed and ready to go eight hours before the ceremony. Casting an eye over his twin, Con said, “Eager or terrified?”

“A little of both.” Alex let out his breath in a whoosh. “Thank God you’re finally up.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Con asked, going to the sideboard to fill his plate.

“Because it was four o’clock in the morning. Wellie woke me up screeching, and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t think you’d care to be awakened.”

“Where is everyone?”

“The women have gone to Kyria’s to help with the last-minute preparations. Though what any of them could do to set up a party, I cannot imagine.”

“Mmm. Maybe Thisbe has a formula for it.”

Alex grinned. “Or Megan and Olivia have investigated the subject.”

“I’m sure Mother will enjoy trying to persuade the servants to go on strike.” Con returned to the table.

Alex took a seat across from Con. “Not like Wellie to sound off in the middle of the night like that. One has to wonder what set him off.”

“Does one?”

“Con…did you have that dream again?”

“Yes. It’s not important.”

Alex grunted softly. “It certainly doesn’t seem to have affected your appetite.”

“Little does.” Con gestured toward the pristine expanse of table in front of Alex. “What about you? Have you eaten anything?”

“I had a cup of coffee.”

“No doubt that will calm you down.”

Alex rolled his eyes and went over to pull a piece of toast from the rack. “You’re not going to distract me from your dream.”

“I know. But there’s nothing new to tell. It’s the same dream I’ve had five times now. I’m in a bizarre round room. There are clocks and compasses everywhere, and I have this feeling of absolute dread.” He paused. “Maybe it’s panic rather than dread. I feel as if I’m late. I’m sure it’s just because of the wedding. I’m worried about not getting to the jeweler’s in time for the ring. Keeping this family in line. Being late to the church. All that.”

“I have never in my life known you to be so concerned about being late,” Alex said flatly.

“You’ve never gotten married before.” Con shrugged it off. “Speaking of being late, why the devil are you all turned out in your wedding coat this early? You’ll be creased and stained by the time the ceremony rolls around.”

“I know. I’ll change. It was just… I couldn’t think what else to do.” Alex sighed. “This is going to be the longest day of my life.”

“Why so nervous? You’ve been champing at the bit for weeks. I can’t imagine you’re having second thoughts.”

“Lord, no, nothing like that. But I can’t rid myself of the fear that something will keep it from taking place. That Sabrina will decide to call it off at the last minute.”

“The woman’s mad for you. Anyone can see that.”

“I woke up this morning thinking, what if the Dearborns grab her again?”

“Idiot. She’s at Kyria’s, with all that brood to protect her.”

“I know. Not to mention her friend Miss Holcutt.”

“Indeed. I’d warrant Miss Holcutt could scare off any chap with wicked intentions.”

Alex smiled. “You’re inordinately hard on Lilah.”

“It’s inordinately easy to be hard on Lilah,” Con tossed back.

“I think the reason is you’re also rather sweet on Lilah.” Con’s contemptuous snort only made Alex grin. “Not to mention the fact that she’s the only woman to turn down your advances.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, really? What other girl has told you no when you asked her to take a stroll in the garden? For that matter, what woman has turned you down about anything—excluding our sisters, of course?”

“Dozens, I’m sure.” Con paused. “Well, a few. I’m not universally approved of, you know. You’re the one who’s the perfect model of a marital prize.”

“I’m not the one who’s a charming rogue.”

“I beg your pardon. I am charming, of course, but hardly a rogue.”

Alex laughed and reached over to steal a sausage from Con’s plate. “Actually, I’m surprised you aren’t pursuing Lilah. I would think she would be a challenge to you.”

“Maybe I would.” Con’s lips curved in a faint smile. “If she weren’t your future wife’s bosom friend. That makes things awkward.”

“Not necessarily. Not if the two of you suited.”

Con snorted. “What is it that makes a reformed bachelor want to take all the rest of us down with him?”

Alex ignored his plaintive question. “Miss Holcutt is rather attractive.”

Con thought of that bright hair, an indescribable color somewhere between gold and red, that dewy skin, the long slim body beneath her conservative gowns. “Rather attractive” didn’t begin to describe Lilah.

“That’s the problem. Lilah Holcutt is the sort of woman who leads you on a merry chase, and once you manage to catch her, you can’t imagine why you wanted to. She’s priggish, self-righteous, humorless and critical. She’d make any man’s life a misery. Besides, she’s made it quite clear that she detests me.”

Alex crossed his arms, regarding Con thoughtfully. Con was grateful that before Alex could speak again, their mother swept into the room. “Alex. Dearest.”

Both men rose. “Mother. I thought you’d gone to Kyria’s.”

“No, dear. I’m of little use there. Neither are the others of course. Kyria and Miss Holcutt could easily handle it all themselves, but it’s a nice bit of sisterly time. But I’m not going to pass your wedding day away from you.” She took Alex’s face in her hands. Tears glittered in her eyes. “I can scarcely believe you’re getting married. It seems only yesterday you were in leading strings.”

“I’m not the first of your children to marry,” Alex protested.

“I know. But those times, I knew I still had my babies. Now it’s my baby getting married.”

“You have Con.”

The duchess smiled at her other son. “Yes, but it won’t be long before you are married, too, Con.”

“Nonsense. You’ll have me around to bother you for years,” Con told her lightly. “I doubt I’m marriage material.”

Emmeline Moreland chuckled. “Now, where have I heard that before?” She patted Con’s cheek. “And you were never a bother. Either of you.”

“Mother, how could I marry?” Con laughed. “I’ll never find a woman who compares to you.”

Hours later, Con stood beside his brother as Alex’s bride made her way slowly down the aisle on the arm of Uncle Bellard. Con was unsure whether Bellard was supporting her or Sabrina was holding up their small and shy great-uncle. Bellard had been thrilled when Sabrina, having no male relatives of her own, had asked him to escort her, but this afternoon the old man had been dithering about, several shades paler than even the groom.

Alex, oddly enough, lost his nervousness the moment Sabrina came into view. Black-haired and blue-eyed, with a strawberries-and-cream complexion and a bewitching smile, she was a vision, and Alex could not take his eyes off her.

Con looked across at Sabrina’s maid of honor. Lilah Holcutt was tall and willowy, and when she smiled, her lips curved in a faintly lopsided way that never failed to send a sizzle through Con. It was fortunate for him, he supposed, that Lilah was not prone to smile often… at least not around him. She was more apt to send him that look. The one that said she found him irredeemably foolish. Strangely enough, that one, too, set off a little tickle in him.

She was especially attractive today. Her face was too well formed, her form too alluring, her hair too fascinating a color for her to ever be anything but lovely. But today there was something different about her. Con suspected that his sister Kyria had something to do with that. Lilah’s red-gold hair was not pulled back into its usual neat twist that stopped just short of severe. Nor was her blue dress the plain pastel frock she normally wore.

Her gown was a rich vivid blue that accentuated the color of her eyes, with a scoop neckline and a fall of soft lace at the sleeves, leaving much of her arms bare. She had beautiful arms. And her hair, that bright blend of red and gold that Con had never seen on anyone else, was swept up into a soft roll, with a small strand on either side curling down beside her ears in a way that made a man’s fingers itch to touch it.

Lilah’s gaze had been on the bride and groom, but now she glanced over at Con. He sent her a friendly wink, and she frowned. Obviously he had again earned her disapproval. With Lilah, that was easily done. It was one of the many reasons it was wise to avoid her.

But then, wisdom had never been Con’s guiding principle.

CHAPTER TWO

THE CELEBRATION AFTER the wedding was held at Kyria’s house, and it was easy to see Kyria’s touch. Great swaths of white satin and silver netting were draped artistically about the ballroom, glowing in the warm light of the wall sconces, and the air was perfumed with the scent of hundreds of white roses, creating a richly romantic backdrop. In the garden, tiny lanterns lined the pathways and dotted the branches.

A small orchestra was playing at one end of the room, the dance floor empty as Alex took Sabrina out for their first dance as a married couple. Lilah stood with the others, watching them.

Sabrina gazed up at her groom with such love that it almost made Lilah’s chest hurt. Lilah tried to imagine what it must be like to feel so much for another person that one’s face simply shone with it. Lilah had some difficulty with the notion. She herself did not lack for suitors, many of them quite eligible men, but she had never felt even a tingle of such feeling.

Alex clearly was just as much in love as Sabrina. Lilah had watched him earlier as Sabrina came down the aisle, his face alight with love. She had glanced at Con then, wondering what he felt on this occasion. It must be strange to lose one’s twin to marriage. Irritating as Con was, Lilah had felt a little pang of sympathy for him.

But then Con had flashed that cocky grin at her and winked. In the middle of a wedding. It was typical of the man. She didn’t know why she bothered to feel sympathy for him. Constantine Moreland never took anything seriously. Well, almost never—Lilah had seen his face two months ago when Alex was kidnapped, and Con’s face then had been downright frightening.

When the stately first waltz ended, other couples joined the newlyweds on the dance floor. Lilah glanced around, certain she would see Con among the dancers. She wondered who he would choose as his partner. He had never seemed to favor any particular girl with his attentions. He had even danced with her one time.

Though he would never do so again, no doubt. Lilah blushed at that memory. Con thought her prudish for the way she had reacted when he asked her to walk in the garden with him after their dance. Lilah knew now that she had been impulsive and silly; she had only recently come out, and her greenness had showed. Not that she had been wrong—a man didn’t ask a young girl to walk in the garden at a party unless his intentions were less than virtuous. But she had learned since then how to turn aside such a man without resorting to anything so overwrought as a slap.

Lilah scowled down at her glove, needlessly fussing with the button. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of Alex’s cousins making his way toward her. Albert had apparently taken a liking to Lilah; he had dogged her footsteps all day. She’d managed to slip away each time, but she had the gloomy suspicion she wouldn’t be able to dodge him this time. She could hardly be impolite to one of the Moreland family, but, having danced with Cousin Albert at the engagement party, Lilah knew that taking to the floor with him would not only be a dreadful bore but also a very real danger to her toes.

Hoping he had not realized she’d spotted him, Lilah started to turn away. Just at that moment, a man behind her said, “Miss Holcutt. Would you care to dance?”

“Con!” She whirled. “Oh, thank God.”

His green eyes twinkled. “What an unexpectedly enthusiastic response. I daresay you must have seen Cousin Albert setting his course.”

“Yes.” There was no need to pretend politeness where Con was concerned.

She took his arm and Con whisked her away to the dance floor, pulling her to him and seamlessly joining the other dancers. Lilah had forgotten what it was like to dance with Con—so quick and light, his hand firm on her waist, holding her a trifle closer than was appropriate. It was easy to match his steps, to follow the guide of his hand. He was an expert dancer, and one had only to let go and trust him.

She could not keep from smiling up at him. It was better not to encourage Con—he was already too full of himself—and she was always careful not to do anything that would draw attention, but right now she was enjoying herself too much to care.