Less Than a Gentleman

  He unwrapped his neck cloth, then removed his shirt and undergarments. How could he forget the war when he had so much to do? Ferryboats to burn. Supplies to capture. He untied the bow from his hair and dropped the thin leather thong on the desk. And those two missing females. Where the hell could they be?

  He strode to the bed and slipped under the netting. With a sigh of contentment, he stretched out between the clean cotton sheets.

  The bed shifted.

  He blinked, staring at the ghostly netting overhead. He hadn’t budged an inch. There was only one explanation.

  Slowly, he turned his head and peered into the darkness beside him. The counterpane appeared lumpy as if— He listened carefully. Yes, soft breathing.

  He sat up. A soft moan emanated from the form beside him. Female. His heart started to pound, his body reacting instinctively. Good God, it had been too long since he . . .

  What the hell? He drew his racing libido to a screeching halt. This had to be another one of his mother’s plots to force him to marry! Even Dottie was in on it. She had insisted he bathe and go to the Great House. Then they had locked up the house, so he would be forced to climb the lattice to his bedchamber. Straight into their trap.

  He scrambled out of bed, batting at the mosquito netting that still covered him.

  The female gasped and sat up. “Who’s there?”

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered. His mother’s scheme had worked perfectly. He was alone and naked with whomever she had chosen for his bride.

  Another gasp and a rustling of sheets. The woman climbed out of bed. Damn! She would run straight to her witnesses to inform them that he’d bedded her.

  “No!” He leapt across the bed and grabbed her. “You’re not getting away.” He hauled her squirming body back onto the bed. Her sudden intake of air warned him of her intent to scream.

  He cupped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t.”

  She clamped down with her teeth.

  “Ow!” He ripped his hand from her mouth.

  She slapped at his shoulders.

  He winced as she pounded on his injury. “Enough.” He seized her by the wrists and pinned her arms down. “No screaming. And no biting. Do you understand?”

  Her breaths sounded quick and frightened.

  He settled on top of her, applying just enough pressure to keep her from escaping. “I know what you’re after. You think to trap me in wedlock so easily?”

  “What?”

  He could hardly see her pale face in the dark. His damp hair fell forward, further obstructing his view as he leaned closer. The scent of her soap surrounded him. Magnolia blossoms. His favorite, and Dottie knew it. This was a full-fledged conspiracy. “I assume you brought witnesses with you?”

  “Witnesses?”

  “Of course. Why would you want me in your bed if there’s no one to see it?”

  “My God, you’re perverse.”

  “You’re hoping I am, aren’t you?” He stroked the inside of her wrist. “You’re hoping I’ll be tempted by your soft skin.”

  She shook her head and wiggled beneath him.

  He gulped. She was definitely not wearing a corset beneath her shift. “You think I cannot resist a beautiful, womanly form?” Damn, but she was hard to resist.

  “Get off of me,” she hissed.

  “I beg your pardon? That’s hardly the language of a seductress. Didn’t they coach you better than that?”

  “Damn you, release me.”

  He chuckled. “You’re supposed to coo in my ear, not curse me. Come now, let me hear your pretty little speech. Tell me how much you want me. Tell me how you’re burning to make love to me.”

  “I’d rather burn in hell, you demented buffoon.”

  He paused, wondering for the first time if he had misinterpreted the situation. “You’re . . . not here to seduce me?”

  “Of course not. Why would I have any interest in a demented buffoon?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Then who are you and why are you in this bed?”

  “I was in bed to sleep, which would be obvious if you weren’t such a demented—”

  “Enough! Who are you?”

  She paused.

  “Is the question too difficult?”

  She huffed. “I . . . I’m Agatha Ludlow.”

  He reeled back. Agatha Ludlow? He’d rather share a bed with a swamp snake.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Are you Mrs. Thomas’s son?”

  He bolted out of bed, flung aside the mosquito netting, and grabbed his breeches. “No, I’m not.” Hopefully Agatha wouldn’t know who he was, and he could escape. He stuffed his legs in the breeches and fumbled with the buttons.

  “You’re not Matthias?”

  “No, I’m a . . . a servant. Absolutely penniless.” He pulled on his shirt.

  “Then why are you here? I’m fairly certain this is not a servant’s bedchamber.”

  She had him there. “I was late returning, and . . . Why are you in Matthias’s bed?”

  “I didn’t realize I was.” She heaved a sigh. “Thank God you’re not him.”

  She was relieved? That didn’t sound right. Agatha Ludlow would jump at a chance to trap him in marriage. He gathered up his stockings and shoes. “I apologize for frightening you. Good evening, mistress.”

  He strode to his mother’s room to inform her that her latest scheme had failed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Mother, you put a woman in my bed.”

  With a gasp, his mother sat up in bed. Her book tumbled onto the floor. “Matthias, is that you?”

  “Yes.” He closed her bedchamber door. One lit candle illuminated the area around his mother’s bed, but the rest of the room lay in shadow.

  “Matthias! You’re alive!” Jane scrambled out of bed and ran toward him. “I was so worried.”

  “I’m fine.” He embraced her. “I’ve been hiding in the swamp from the British. Any news from Father?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.” She skimmed her fingers over his face. “It is really you. Thank God.”

  “Why would you lay a trap for me in my own—”

  “You’re hiding in the swamp?” Jane regarded him with a worried look. “Why? What happened to the army?”

  “We lost at Camden.” When his mother gasped, he continued, “You didn’t know?”

  “No. Oh, dear.” She stepped back, clenching her hands together. “This is terrible.”

  “Yes. Speaking of terrible, there’s a—”

  “Are you truly all right? You weren’t injured in any way?”

  “A bullet grazed my shoulder, but Dottie sewed it up, and ’tis much better now.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “You’ve been home before?”

  “Well, yes. I was in pain, and Dottie helped—”

  “You didn’t come see me?” Jane lifted a hand to swat his shoulder, then stopped herself. “How could you? Don’t you know how much I worry about you?”

  “I’m sorry, but I was afraid you would host another ball, where a horde of grasping young ladies and their greedy mothers swarm the house like a plague of locusts.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t have a ball in the midst of a war.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I would have arranged a smaller, more intimate gathering.”

  “Exactly. You never cease with the matchmaking.”

  “I would gladly cease if you would just marry.”

  He snorted. “This latest scheme of yours is beyond my patience. Planting a woman in my bed—”

  “You went to bed?”

  “Yes. And if you think to force me into marriage, let me assure you that nothing happened.”

  “Oh, dear.” Jane clutched her hands together. “That poor girl.”

  He scoffed. The poor girl sported some vicious t
eeth. “I cannot, for the life of me, fathom why you continue with these plots of yours. You were forced into an arranged marriage and have been miserable every day of it. Why would you wish me to suffer the same?”

  “I want you to be happy.”

  “Then let me choose my own wife!” He took a deep breath and shoved his hair back from his face.

  With a sigh, Jane perched on the edge of her bed. “I fear you will never marry.”

  “Not as long as the war continues, no.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I want grandchildren. A house full of them. Do you have any idea how awful it has been for me? Three babies I buried. Three.”

  “I’m sorry.” Matthias didn’t need reminding that he was the only child to survive. He’d heard it all his life. The future of Loblolly Plantation would rest entirely on him. At the age of ten, he’d been escorted to his grandfather’s deathbed, and there, his grandfather had insisted Matthias swear a sacred oath to protect and nurture Loblolly.

  He’d felt trapped ever since.

  His mother heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’ve waited so long for you to be old enough to have children of your own.”

  He sat on the end of the bed. “One thing I have learned as a soldier is that timing is everything. This is not the right time. I have buried children. I will not father any until this war is over.”

  “But they would be safe here. The war hasn’t touched us here.”

  “No place is safe.” He gritted his teeth. “Even my bedchamber boasts a hotbed of deadly peril at the moment.”

  “You exaggerate, surely.”

  “I have the teeth marks to prove it.”

  Jane gasped. “She bit you?”

  “Aye. I can only pray the wench is not rabid.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. She must have been frightened out of her wits, poor child. You—you didn’t take liberties with her?”

  “No! Nothing happened. Besides, I apologized.”

  “Oh, dear.” Jane slanted him a suspicious look.

  He scowled back with indignation. He was the victim tonight. “How could you, Mother? Of all people, Agatha Ludlow? How low can you go?”

  “I thought you liked her. You said so after the ball.”

  “I said she was the only one I could tolerate, and only because she’s honest about her ambitions. The others simpered and pretended to be enthralled by me. Agatha is blatant when it comes to greed. She wants wealth and will do whatever it takes to get it.”

  “Gracious, she didn’t strike me that way. She seemed very kindhearted.”

  He scoffed. So kindhearted that she had repeatedly called him a demented buffoon. “Why is she here?”

  “I invited her.”

  “And put her in my bed?”

  His mother lifted a hand to rub her brow. “I didn’t know you would come tonight. Believe me, I expect you to wed a woman before bedding her.”

  “There will be no wedding or bedding.”

  Jane leaned toward him, touching his arm. “If you would just stay a few days, you might like her. She seemed very sweet to me. And the children are so precious.”

  “What children?”

  “Her sister brought her children. They’re in the nursery.”

  While Jane described each child in minute detail, Matthias searched his memory. As far as he could recall, Agatha Ludlow had no sister. The only daughter of a Charles Town merchant, she was spoiled and vicious. She also had a rather thin, nasal voice. The woman in his bed had possessed a gentle, melodious voice, in spite of the disparaging words that had passed from her luscious pink lips.

  He stiffened. Agatha Ludlow had a mouth like a dried-up prune. And if Agatha had suspected who he was, she would have welcomed him with open arms.

  “I’m sure if you had children,” Jane continued, “they would be just as adorable as Edward and Charlotte.”

  “Mother, Agatha Ludlow doesn’t have a sister.”

  “Of course she does. They look so similar. They must be sisters.”

  “I’m saying this woman cannot be Agatha Ludlow.”

  “Ridiculous. Why would she lie?”

  He shoved his hair behind his ears. “Does she look like Agatha?”

  Jane shrugged and gazed across the room. “She’s very pretty. I’m sure you’ll approve.”

  Was his mother avoiding eye contact? What was she up to? “What did you tell this alleged Agatha?”

  “That I hoped you two would marry.”

  “Bloody hell.” He stood and paced across the room. “Whoever this woman is, she wants the plantation.”

  Jane rose to her feet. “Why do you say that? You’re a handsome man. A woman could easily love you for yourself.”

  “Women like Agatha don’t even see me. They cannot see past this house and all the beautiful gowns and jewelry you own.”

  Jane frowned. “I wish you would at least give her a chance.”

  “I have no time for it. I leave at dawn.”

  “So quickly?”

  “Yes. Good night, Mother. I’ll come again in a few days.” He kissed her cheek and left the room.

  On the second-floor landing he paused outside his bedchamber door. Was the woman inside Agatha Ludlow or an imposter? Should he barge inside and confront her?

  No, not at night when she was barely dressed. Besides, he would easily recognize Agatha in daylight. All he had to do was remain here until morning.

  But if she were a stranger and he met her as the heir to the plantation, would she tell everyone he had attacked her in bed? Better to play it safe as the penniless servant.

  He ascended the stairs to the third floor. The servant quarters were there, and he’d be able to find the appropriate clothing and an unoccupied bed to sleep in.

  If the young lady was Agatha, she would recognize him at once. But if he was right about her being a fraud, he wouldn’t have to say a word. Her failure to recognize him would be as good as a confession. Yes, by morning, the mysterious woman would be exposed and sent packing.

  Caroline opened her eyes the next morning to see someone peering down at her. “Oh, Edward, you startled me.”

  “What are you doing in Charlotte’s bed?” he asked.

  “I came up here to sleep with your mother.” Caroline sat up in the narrow bed. “But Charlotte was already in bed with her.”

  “She joined me early in the evening,” Virginia explained as she brushed four-year-old Charlotte’s hair. “What happened? Were you lonesome down there all by yourself?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Perhaps she had a bad dream,” Charlotte suggested.

  “More of a nightmare,” Caroline muttered.

  “Tell us about it,” Edward bounced onto the bottom of her bed with an excited expression. “Was there a horrid monster?”

  “You could say that.” Caroline climbed out of bed. “You’re sitting on my gown, Edward.” She had grabbed her clothes and vacated the bedchamber immediately after her mysterious visitor had disappeared. The nursery had seemed the safest place to go.

  Caroline and her family dressed and descended the stairs in search of breakfast. They peeked into the rooms overlooking the front porch. One was a large parlor; the other, a library. They located the dining room at the back of the house, behind the library. It boasted a long table that would seat twelve. A large silver epergne rested on top, reflected on the polished surface.

  “Godsookers,” Edward whispered. “Are we eating in here?”

  “Wherever we eat, you two mind your manners,” Virginia whispered to the children. “And don’t wolf down your food like last night.”

  “We were hungry,” Edward spoke in their defense.

  Virginia smiled. “I know, sweeting. You’ve both been wonderfully brave. I’m very proud of you.”

  “Ah, there you are,” Jane c
alled to them from across the hall. “Come this way. I thought the morning parlor would be more cozy.”

  They filed into a smaller room. Its windows gave a cheerful view of the garden. An upholstered settee rested between two windows. A sideboard and armchairs lined another wall. In the center of the room, a round table was surrounded by five chairs.

  Betsy was setting the table.

  “I cannot tell you how happy I am to have company.” Jane smiled at them, then turned to the servant. “Betsy, you may bring the food now.”

  The young woman nodded and passed by them, her eyes downcast.

  “Good morning, Betsy,” Caroline whispered.

  Betsy glanced at her, then hurried from the room.

  “Come and sit.” Jane took a seat at the table.

  Virginia sat to her left. “Thank you for loaning us these gowns. ’Tis fortunate you kept your lying-in clothes, or I fear I would be dressed in a bedsheet.”

  “I’m delighted to see them put to use after all these years.” Jane motioned for Edward to sit at her right. “But it was such a shame you were robbed.”

  “I threw a stick at him, the scurvy bas—” Edward noticed his mother’s piercing glare. “Uh, bufflehead.”

  Caroline sat next to Edward so she could kick him if needed. It would be difficult, she realized, for the children to maintain her falsehood. Too many lies would confuse them, so the truth should be told whenever possible. Besides, Jane didn’t appear to know Agatha Ludlow very well. She certainly didn’t know what the woman looked like.

  “We didn’t lose a great deal to the thief,” Caroline explained. “Most of our belongings were already lost. The British set fire to our house. In fact, as far as we could tell, they were burning all the homes along the Pee Dee River.”

  Jane shook her head, frowning. “How dreadful.”

  “They burned our house in Charles Town, too,” Edward said.

  Jane touched his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  Caroline unfolded her napkin. “We decided the best course of action was to flee.”

  Charlotte, seated between her mother and aunt, frowned at Caroline. “I don’t want any fleas.”