The Duchess Diaries: The Bridal Pleasures Series by Jillian Hunter

Charlotte’s part, considering the string of women who had schemed to become his wife.
    He had faced numerous opponents on the dueling field without qualms. Was this any different? A man could not call himself brave if he fought only the battles he chose.
    As he contemplated his future he heard the door open and the approach of footsteps across the floor. It could only be his butler, perhaps checking to see whether he was still alive.
    He didn’t bother to open his eyes. He hoped to fall asleep and awaken the next day to discover that tonight had been only a dream. “Leave everything as it is, Shelby. You can tidy to your heart’s content in the morning.”
    A spume of cold water struck his face. He jolted upright, managing to dodge the ceramic pitcher that hit the headboard of his bed. In that moment of surprise he decided that Gabrielle did not have the makings of a courtesan at all.
    A Gorgon, perhaps. But not a woman with whom a sane man would feel comfortable confiding in or sharing his bed. He rolled to his side and onto the floor, holding the bed curtains to his chest as a buffer.
    The washstand bowl hit the bedpost. Gabrielle glanced around, presumably looking for another weapon to hurl. He dropped the curtains and made a dash for the door before she launched her shoes at his back.
    “You liar! You schoolboy! I can’t believe that you left my company for that…I don’t even know what she is!”
    Gideon reached the top of the stairs. His entire staff had assembled below in their nightclothes.
    “All these women in one night,” his housekeeper said, and obviously didn’t mind that he could hear her. “It isn’t natural. It’s unhealthful. I can’t be party to this much longer. What a sorrow if young Lady Sarah had witnessed this.”
    Gabrielle ran sobbing around him to fly down the stairs. “He’s a swine!” she said to the servants who parted to allow her passage. “The man ruined my reputation! I’ll never command a top price again.”
    “Good riddance,” Shelby muttered, shuffling to close the door after her. “That’s another one who won’t be coming back in a hurry.”
    Harriet arrived at the academy early the next morning to take breakfast with Charlotte. They sat alone sipping tea until it turned too cold to enjoy.
    Harriet put down her cup. “I don’t know what to say. It was my fault. All of it.”
    Charlotte sighed. “It wasn’t. And I admit I wanted to see what his house looked like inside.”
    “For a man alleged to live a decadent life he had nice furnishings. I didn’t see any evidence of the riotous orgies he’s said to hold.”
    “I don’t know whether that means he’s been maligned or has an attentive staff who tidy up the damage as he goes about it.”
    “It could mean he isn’t as bad as he’s supposed to be.”
    “Well, he had French letters in his drawers,” Charlotte said in an inaudible voice.
    Harriet stared across the table. “What did you say?”
    “French letters. You know, the articles that a man wears when he’s about to indulge in a carnal act.”
    Harriet frowned at her. “In the first place, you’re not talking to the vicar’s wife, Charlotte. I know what they are. Condoms.”
    “Lower your voice.”
    “I’m whispering. Besides, all that means is that he’s a more conscientious lover than most men.”
    “The fact that he had them in his drawer suggests to me that he is loose with his affections.”
    Harriet choked back a laugh.
    Charlotte regarded her in irritation. “Scoundrels amuse you?”
    “No. You do. The possession of those ‘articles’ could mean any number of things.”
    “Really?” Charlotte looked past Harriet with feigned indifference.
    “Really. It could mean he’s practical and particular about where he puts his—”
    “Harriet!”
    “Or it could mean he likes to be well prepared in the event, you know…in the event he finds a certain lady hiding in his bedchamber when he comes home.”
    “Don’t remind