What the Duke Wants

Chapter Eleven




The next day dawned clear and bright. Carlotta helped the girls ready themselves after breakfast and soon they were waiting in the parlor for the carriage to be brought about. The girls seemed nervous. Carlotta watched them carefully and tried to reassure them with a hand to their cheek or a slight squeeze to their shoulder.

As the time for their departure arrived, Lady Southridge came into the room, her nose red and her eyes watery. “Oh my dears! I cannot believe it! All our travels and today of all days I am to catch a sniffle! I tried all morning to relieve myself of this miserable—” She coughed delicately into a handkerchief. “But is of no use! How I wish I could go! But you must enjoy your time without me.” She gave a trembling smile.

Then sneezed.

“How miserable, Lady Southridge.” Carlotta felt pity for the poor woman. There was never anything as miserable as feeling poorly.


Except for maybe pining for a duke she could never have.

Yes, being sick was second to that.

“You go on without me,” she said again. As if on cue, Bethanny strode forward and wrapped her arms around Lady Southridge’s shoulders. “I’ll stay with you, that way you’ll have some company.”

“Yes, me too,” Beatrix said quietly, going to stay beside her sister.

Berty bit her lip, glancing to Carlotta then to Lady Southridge, she seemed to debate her options.

“Berty…” Bethanny spoke lowly, warning.

“Oh all right. I’ll stay too.” She pouted and walked over to the rest of her sisters.

“There’s no reason for me to go then—”

“No! I insist! You must attend Charles, he’ll be ever so lonely.”

“I’m sure his grace—”

“Needs you,” Lady Southridge completed, her voice suspiciously strong.

As if realizing, she coughed. Twice.

“But—”

“Ah! Here is Tibbs, I’m assuming the carriage is ready?” she asked.

“Indeed.”

“Please escort Miss Carlotta to the carriage. Is his grace waiting?”

“Indeed. Miss Carlotta.”

Carlotta tried to protest, but found herself all but pushed into the hall by Lady Southridge who promptly closed the parlor door and left her standing quite dazed with Tibbs.

“Surely I should—”

“Attend his grace,” Tibbs completed. It seemed as if no one wanted her to complete her own thoughts any more.

Or make her own decisions seeing as she soon found herself sitting with the duke in the open carriage on their way to Bath.

Alone.

Actually, a driver and two footmen, but it felt alone.

To alleviate her own tension, she nodded to the duke then turned to stare at the scenery.

“Where, might I ask, are the rest of our party?” the duke asked as they made their way down the lane towards Bath.

“Pardon?” Carlotta turned her gaze towards him.

“The girls, Lady Southridge? Why are they not attending us?” he asked mockingly.

“You weren’t aware?”

“Apparently not.”

“Lady Southridge came down with a sniffle.” Carlotta explained.

“Hm. And the wards?”

Carlotta felt her eyes narrow. However, knowing he said that simply to spite her, she chose not to rise to his bait.

“They elected to stay with her. They seem quite attached to her.”

“Or simply overwhelmed and obedient.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lady Southridge is far from sick, I assure you. Disease doesn’t dare interfere with her plans. Illness itself shakes in fear of that woman. I’ve never seen her sick a day in my life. It’s unlikely she started now.”

“She appeared quite ill.”

“Odd, I saw her earlier and there seemed to be nothing amiss.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, indeed. Oh.”

“What do… that is… why would she—”

“Because she is of the mind that you are the very woman to save my blackened soul from my previous life of a wastrel.”

“Oh.”

“I believe you said that already.”

“Indeed.”

“We’ve used that one too. For a governess you’re surprisingly narrow-minded on your use of vocabulary.”

“I’ll disregard your insult in light of the situation.”

“How noble of you, Miss Carlotta.” He nodded as he said her name, as if communicating his effort to respect her wishes.

She smiled a thank you.

“Why would Lady Southridge consider me your salvation?” she asked, immediately regretting the question. All it would do was open the conversation she had so neatly closed the night before. “Forget I asked that.”

“If that is what you wish.”

“It is.”

They continued on in silence for a few minutes. Carlotta tried to think of intelligent conversation but kept drawing a blank.

“Tell me, how far away is your home from Bath?”

“It’s a morning’s ride by carriage.”

“I see. Did you travel there often?”

“Depending on the season.”

“Must you always answer so succinctly? Can you not elaborate in the slightest?”

“To what end? That part of my life is no longer.”

“Be that as it may, it was still a part of you at some point. And because of that, has contributed to the woman you are today.”

“The contribution you mention is obsolete.”

“Your tone smacks of bitterness, Miss Carlotta. What are you not telling me?”

“Forgive me, I’m not bitter. Truly. It’s somewhat difficult, being close to where my home once was, only to have it be my home no longer,” she answered honestly, repentant at her short tone earlier.

“That would indeed be difficult.” He paused. “So tell me your favorite sights in Bath.”

They carried on that conversation in various veins throughout their quick tour of Bath till they ended up in Sydney Park. The duke’s hand was warm as it covered hers, helping her alight from the carriage. The thrill of his touch was a pleasure she allowed herself to enjoy for only a moment before she released his grip. They strode to the river’s edge and watched the languid water flow softly.

“We shouldn’t tarry long. Your guest will be wondering about us.” It was a pathetic excuse but she was desperate. At this point, she felt her resolve to keep distance between them crumbling.

“Without eating? Your ladylike appetite might be able to withstand our journey back, but mine will not!” he teased, his clear eyes crinkling around the edges with humor.

“Then far be it from me to cause you to suffer,” Carlotta teased as she began to lay out their meal.

“My stomach thanks you.”

Carlotta couldn’t resist a saucy smile at his banter and handed him a bright red apple.

“Ah, the forbidden fruit,” he commented lightly.

“Pardon?” Carlotta felt her good humor drain. Hadn’t she called him that just last night as she pondered on her bed?

“The forbidden fruit. I suppose we don’t know if it was truly an apple that Eve ate when tempted by the serpent, but the same truth still applies.” He remarked as he rolled the apple between his palms before taking a bite.

“And what truth is that?” Carlotta asked.

“That we are doomed to always want what we cannot have.” His eyes were dark, his full lips drawn into a firm line.

“Indeed.”

“Is this where you took the girls?” he asked as they finished their meal. Standing he helped her up as well.

“Yes. You should have seen their delighted faces when I gave them bread crumbs to feed the ducks.”

“They enjoyed themselves?”

“Immensely.”

“I wouldn’t suppose you had any extra bread crumbs on hand?” he asked, his blue eyes dancing with mischief.

“I do.” She opened up a hamper that a footman had deposited behind them and pulled out a tied linen cloth. “Here.” She opened it and handed a chunk of stale bread to the duke. His warm fingers caressed her palm as he took it, his darkening gaze communicating that the contact was more than intentional.

Carlotta dropped her gaze.

“Stale bread is quite a delicacy for ducks, is it not?” he teased, his countenance brightening with charm.

“They are quite assertive, aren’t they?” she commented with a laugh as a duck thumped another of its companions with its wing in efforts to steal an unusually large chunk of bread.


“They simply know what they want,” the duke commented lightly.

Carlotta glanced from the ducks to him.

His expression was anything but light. Rather it was smoldering with double meaning. Her heart caught in her throat as she felt her lips tingle with the memory of his kiss.

As if sensing her weakening he took a step forward, then paused, his expression a myriad of conflict. Carlotta broke their gaze and turned to open the hamper once more to deposit the now empty linen.

“We should return,” she commented lightly and stood not paying attention to her whereabouts. Her waist was warmed by his hand as he pulled her back against his chest. His breath was warm as it caressed her neck, his lips inviting as they placed a lingering and heated kiss just below her ear.

“Your grace, any one could see—”

“Let them.”

“But—”

“Carlotta, you talk entirely too much,” he said lightly as he traced up her arm with his other hand, leaving delightfully warm tingles. Slowly he turned her around. Unable to meet his gaze, she stared at his perfectly tied cravat, swallowing her own desire.

“Carlotta,” he whispered, petitioning her.

It was her undoing.

Slowly lifting her gaze, she visually caressed his strong jaw, the soft sensual curve of his lip, the straight arch of his nose until she finally lost herself in the blue regard that burned like the hottest part of a flame.

He leaned in to kiss her, but paused as if warring against himself. No doubt, he was considering her words from last night.

To kiss her would prove his selfish intentions. Or so she said. Right now though, it would be more of a selfish action to not kiss her.

Never had she wanted anything so desperately.

Forbidden fruit.

Before she could restrain herself, she rose upon tiptoes and kissed him. It was delicious; he tasted like apples and smelled like spice.

His passion consumed her.

Yet all she could think about was how this was her goodbye kiss. All the other kisses, had been more or less taken. Not this one. This one was of her own accord.

Tragically, it was also meant to be goodbye.

He deepened the exchange, and Carlotta felt her control slipping to the precipice of the edge of her own desire. Abruptly she pulled back, not knowing she was so close to the edge of the river. She wobbled on her heel, waving her hands wildly to gain her balance.

It was no use.

She fell, with a mighty splash, into the river.

“Carlotta!” the duke shouted, reaching in and pulling her out.

Her dress clung to her, the water chilly and immediately causing her to shiver. He fussed over her like a mother hen and draped his coat over her, in spite of her claim that such a foolish action would ruin the coat.

“Better to ruin the coat than cause you to catch a fever,” he remarked, firmly.

The open carriage was chilly and Carlotta shivered the whole way back. He seemed to debate what to do. Finally, with quite hesitant movements, he slipped over to her side of the carriage and reached for her hand. With a question in his gaze, he paused to make sure she wouldn’t refuse him.

After a moment of indecision, she decided that any warmth would be welcome, and reached out to meet his grasp half way. His gaze warmed, like slowly melting honey. The heat from his hand traveled up her arm and into her chest, making the urge to shiver lessen. But even with the connection of their hands, the earlier amusement and lighthearted banter was now stilted. We are forever doomed to want what we cannot have. The duke’s statement haunted her, taunted her, and reminded her of just how true it was. To his credit, the duke tried to pull her into conversation, and while her responses were polite, she felt herself withdrawing into her own shell for protection.

When they arrived back, the girls spilled out of the house to greet them, stopping short when they saw her shivering and dripping, wearing the duke’s coat.

Lady Southridge followed behind the girls, appearing quite miraculously recovered. She eyed Carlotta questioningly.

“Did you enjoy yourselves?” Bethanny asked, her eyes darting from her to the duke.

“Did you feed the ducks?” Berty asked.

“How was your trip?” Lady Southridge asked, her eyes dancing with… hope?

“Yes, Lady Southridge, and yes, Berty we did feed the ducks, and yes, Bethanny,” Carlotta responded.

“And you can all ask your questions once Miss Lottie is dry, now, off with you all!” Charles barked impatiently and, because apparently she wasn’t moving fast enough for him, she found herself swept up into his arms and being carried, quite quickly into the warmth of Greenford Waters.

“Tibbs!” he shouted for the butler, who had only just stepped from around the corner.

And was now wincing from the loud bellow from the duke.

“Please have a bath readied for Miss Lottie, there was a… mishap and we do not want her catching a chill.”

“Very good, your grace.” He bowed and left.

“I can walk,” she ground out. The warmth of his hands seemed to engulf her, penetrating the chill and igniting a fire that she would have rather ignored.

“No, you can’t,” he replied stubbornly

“I—”

“No, you can’t.”

“Do you always simply tell people what to do, or am I the only fortunate one?” She turned to narrow her eyes at him.

“I—do not have to answer that.” He gave her but a slight glance before he turned down the hall towards her room.

“I see my point is made.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Most women would be thankful I was seeing to their welfare,” he responded impatiently.

“I’m not most women.”

He paused mid-stride and gazed at her with piercing intensity. “Believe me, Miss Lottie, that is a truth I’m far from missing. Now…” He paused, glancing to her lips then visibly forcing himself to meet her gaze once more. “I promise to release you once you are to your room, but allow me the honor of getting you there quickly, and without further interruption.”

She paused, wanting to argue, but seeing that it was for some unknown reason, important to him to act so needlessly chivalrous, nodded instead.

As they reached her room, he set her down gently, his hands slightly caressing her legs as he set her upright. “Thank you for your company today.” He reached out and grasped her hand; lifting it slowly he let his penetrating gaze caress her face till he placed a very long, lingering, and delightful kiss to her hand.

“You’re welcome.”

With a very polite bow, he backed away, his dark gaze intent and anything but polite.

And before she could give into the impulse and smolder of his gaze, she rushed to the safety of her room.

****

Charles walked back towards the entrance and was quickly intercepted by Lady Southridge.

“So?” Lady Southridge questioned, her eyes wide with excitement.

“So… what?” Charles questioned. The girls had fallen into step behind Lady Southridge, who was following him and well, he felt quite like a mother duck with four little impatient ducklings nipping at his heels.

Rather, he felt like the bread crumb they were all chasing after.

“Come now, Charles, surely you figured out how to use this perfectly orchestrated situation to woo her.”

“Lady Southridge!” He turned and eyed the young girls meaningfully.

“Oh, they knew all about it. They helped. Didn’t you girls?” she asked, beaming with pride.

“Helped?” Charles choked on the word.


“Yes your grace,” Beatrix nodded soberly.

“I’m quite… speechless.”

“A first I’m sure. Now, since we gave you such a perfect opportunity, please tell me you didn’t waste it.”

“If you want me to woo the lady, you’ll have to inform her as she has no desire for me to woo her,” Charles said, his tone slightly bitter.

“Of course she wants you to woo her! And if she doesn’t then you, sir, aren’t doing it correctly.”

“I didn’t know I was in the audience of such master at wooing,” he retorted dryly.

“She does want you to pursue her. She’s just scared,” Bethanny said softly, as if reluctant to enter the conversation.

“Why would she be scared?” he asked, though he suspected he knew the answer all too well.

“You’re quite handsome, your wealthy, titled, and have a reputation as dark as sin,” Lady Southridge remarked. “Forget you heard that last part girls,” she added, spearing them with a withering gaze.

They nodded quickly.

“I don’t think that’s why she’s reluctant,” he remarked.

“Oh, then why? It’s not as if you’ve been completely dishonorable. You took the opportunity and said your intentions today, did you? I mean, that would be the logical road to take,” Lady Southridge said.

“My intentions?” Charles questioned.

“Yes you’re…” She paused. “Girls, can you please occupy yourselves? I’m going to require some privacy to converse with his grace.”

“Yes, m’um.” They scattered.

Charles wished he could go with them.

“Now, if I’m understanding this correctly, you had a perfectly beautiful day with a perfectly wonderful lady who, I might add, is an impoverished baron’s daughter who is currently employed as your governess—”

“I’m quite aware of who she is, madam.”

“Forgive me if I question your ability to connect simple and logical thoughts. Did I misunderstand that you find yourself in love with this girl?”

“Yes, I mean no. Yes I’m in love with her, bloody sorry I am but it’s true.”

“A more romantic declaration I’ve never heard,” Lady Southridge responded sarcastically. “No wonder the poor girl ran to her room.” She huffed indignantly.

“Now see here.”

“No, you see here! You didn’t tell her your intentions were honorable? You didn’t declare yourself? I gave you the perfect opportunity on a platter and you disregard it!” She all but shouted, exasperated.

“Forgive me if I resent constantly being rejected!” he shouted back.

“You’re only being rejected because she thinks you’re wanting her as a mistress or dalliance! Your reputation isn’t exactly pristine, Charles. You fell in love with a smart woman. That is a draw back when she can logically take your reputation and deduct what you’re intention could be! You have to tell her otherwise!”

“I—I—”

“Did not?” Lady Southridge finished.

“No.”

“You are an idiot.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“What are you going to do about it?” she asked. The woman was worse than a dog with a bone.

“I’m not sure! I can’t simply buy her a necklace or trinket of some sort. As proper as she is, she’d never accept it. She’d probably just be offended thinking I was trying to buy her off.”

“Which is exactly what you would be trying to do,” Lady Southridge shot back.

“Mistresses are so much easier to handle than potential wives,” he mumbled.

“They last longer.”

“Touché.”

“So I ask you, what are you going to do?”

“According to you, I’m going to tell her my intentions.”

“Good boy.

“I’m not your lapdog.

“You’re right, my lapdog is quicker to catch on than you, my dear boy.”

“Now, tell me how exactly did she fall into the river? That is one fiasco I did not expect.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I never once thought you would. My question stands, regardless.”

“You are the most meddling—”

“I’m helping. Admit it. You wouldn’t have had the whole afternoon alone if it weren’t for me. In fact…” She began to circle him, much like a hawk teasing its prey. “I’m the only reason you’re even here.”

She had a point.

Damn it.

“That doesn’t give you license to interfere,” Charles grumbled.

“How did—”

“She fell.”

“I gathered that since I assumed you didn’t push her for sport,” she replied wryly.

“I’d push you in for sport.”

“How providential that I was not in attendance.”

“She… stepped back and fell in.”

Lady Southridge just stared, waiting, clearly not concerned with how long it took for the truth to come out.

“I kissed her, she ran and fell. Happy now?”

“Not particularly.”

“Nor am I.”

“How often do you do that?” she asked after a brief pause, her eyes narrowing slightly as if contemplating the meaning of life.

“Do what?”

“Kiss her.”

“More than I should.”

“And how often do you simply talk.”

“Talk?”

“Yes, conversation. Even you aren’t that much of a lack wit, Charles. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you.”

“We talk.”

“Not enough.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I know you, Charles. And, as much as it pains me to say and risk inflating your ego further, if she spoke with you, if you charmed her like I know you’re capable of, then she would be running to you, not away.”

“I’m quite sure she’d run away, besides I’m quite trapped as it is. I doubt there’s much I can do.”

“Why so hopeless?”

“Because this conversation has been so positive?”

“No… er…” She had the good grace to look slightly humbled. “But what do you mean?”

“Last night she asked for me to leave her alone, to no longer kiss her. And she said if I did, then I’d be simply showing my own selfish nature… implying that my intentions are only selfish and disregarding to her own convictions. So you see, my hands are tied. I kissed her today, she backed away but before… before she did I could taste her…” He paused as if considering whether to continue, he was so caught up in his thoughts it almost said too much.

“I’m not a prude, you tasted…?”

“Her desire… her attraction. She wanted me, but she doesn’t want me. I don’t understand it. It’s so bloody confusing.”

“Compromise her.”

“Excuse me?” Charles felt his jaw drop and his eyes blink in shock.

“Compromise her.”

“No.”

“Why ever not? It would solve so many of your issues and you’d have to marry her.”

“Yes… but… It’s not what she wants.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?”

“So you’re more concerned about her than yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Then you are truly in love. Show her this side of yourself Charles.”


“You just said for me to be charming, to win her not bare my bloody soul.”

“Forget what I said. Bare your soul, Charles. Then thank me later.” She smiled genuinely and excused herself, leaving Charles spinning with disbelief.

****

“Foolish, foolish, foolish.” Carlotta continued to chide herself over and over for her weakening that afternoon. Thankfully, she was given a tray for her meal and didn’t need to face the duke. She paced the floor while losing herself in her thoughts.

The truth was that she wanted him, more than anything she’d ever wanted in her whole life. Forbidden fruit. Never had there been a more accurate description for the duke.

As the night wore on, she became more and more restless. Her emotions kept her mind spinning, refusing to allow a moment of relaxation let alone sleep. It was almost midnight when she grew exasperated enough to trek outside her room and borrow a book from the library.

Anything that would get her mind off his smile.

The glow of his gaze.

His taste.

She walked soundlessly down the hall, a few flickering candles lit the path she already knew quite well. She reached the door and opened it slowly, lest it make any noise and alert someone of her whereabouts.

The last thing she wanted was to be caught in her nightgown and robe. But, anticipating a quick return, she didn’t bother to dress simply to borrow a book.

A low fire burned in the grate, offering orange light to the grand library. Ceiling-high bookshelves were carved out of the walls, offering a myriad of tempting distractions for her overwrought mind. She padded softly to the corner where she knew to find poetry. Something metered, preferably rhyming that would lull her to sleep. She pulled out an especially thick volume with a red spine when she heard the door open. Gasping she drew herself back into a corner, hoping the darkness would shield her.

And because fate wasn’t kind, the duke walked in, wearing nothing but his breeches and thin white shirt.

He looked like a wealthy pirate. His usually combed hair was tousled like he had been fighting sleep just as furiously as she. The soft light didn’t illuminate his features well, but cast shadows across his face giving him a darker, more dangerous appearance.

Her heart raced.

Her lips tingled.

Her breathing increased till she could smell him— cedar and smoke. Peppermint and something so dangerously alluring it made her knees feel weak.

He didn’t see her, or else didn’t act as if he had. As he made his way to the fire, she noticed his shoulders sagged slightly, as if bearing a burden too heavy to bear. He sighed, a bone-weary exhale that sounded full of sorrow, and her heart constricted with sympathy. Her arms ached to hold him, to encourage him to share his burden with her.

The fire crackled loudly, sending a fury of sparks in the air. Carlotta jumped, startled by the eruption when her attention had been so arrested by the duke.

He turned.

His eyes widened, his shoulders straightened and his eyes, now illuminated by his close proximity to the fire, burned gold.

Her mouth went dry.

“Carlotta.” He spoke. Not questioning, simply stating her name.

“Your grace.”

He nodded slightly then turned back to the fire.

“You should go.” He spoke quietly, not in the usual commanding tone she was accustomed to hearing. He closed his eyes as if in pain.

“Are… are you well, your grace? Is there something I might help you with?” she asked tentatively, stepping forward. Forgotten was her lack of proper attire, all she could think of was the burden in his expression. A burden she wished to relieve him of.

“Y—no, I thank you for your offer but I believe under the circumstances you should go. Preferably running down the hall and locking the door behind you. I would not want to do something, as I did earlier today, that would go against your wishes. I… admire you deeply but my self-control has distinct limits.” His tone was soft, raw.

“I see.” He was abiding by everything she asked.

Then why did she feel so… empty?

It was the wise thing to do, to heed his advice. His self-control wasn’t the only one that had limits. She started towards the door, placed her hand on the cool knob and paused. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched him stare into the fire.

“Go, Carlotta.”

She twisted the knob.

Opened the door, and watched his eyes close as if pained. She closed the door, the loud clicking of the mechanism echoing in the room. The duke, his eyes still closed, leaned forward, his head resting on the stone hearth. Reaching his arms out, he braced himself against the wall. His shoulders, usually covered in his coat, rippled beneath his thin shirt, impossibly broad. His tousled hair combined with the golden hue of the fire gave him the appearance of a pagan god chiseled from bronze. He pushed back from the wall, his muscles tightening with the motion and he turned.

His gaze was unguarded for a split second before it hardened into a steely self-control she hadn’t expected. “I thought you left. You should leave.”

“No.” She surprised herself.

And apparently, him, for his eyes widened.

“Carlotta—”

“What burdens you so?” she asked, risking a few steps toward him. Drawn in by his gaze, she felt deliciously captive.

A ghost of a smile teased his lips. “Forbidden fruit,” he answered plainly.

“It would seem that is quite an epidemic tonight.” She tilted her head, offering him a small smile, even as her heart thundered from the startling truth of her own admission.

“Truly?” he asked, his normally light eyes dangerously dark.

“Is that all that troubles you, your grace?” she asked, avoiding his question.

He opened his mouth as if to question her, then paused. Twisting his lips slightly, he continued. “Just because it was a short answer doesn’t mean it isn’t a lengthy plight, Carlotta.”

“Oh.”

“And unless you want to find me kissing you with a decided lack of restraint, I suggest you take pity on me and leave.” He took a step back. “Please.”

It was the ‘please’ that melted all of her remaining resistance. With a small step forward, she held her breath, knowing that she was changing everything but unwilling to consider the consequences.

He took another step back.

She took another step forward, a smile playing at her lips.

“I’m at a loss as to what about this situation is comical, Carlotta,” he whispered darkly.

“Well, your grace, it seems to me that I should be the one running from you, not the other way around. If you don’t stand still I’ll find myself hopelessly insecure about your possible rejection,” she teased.

She stepped forward.

He closed the distance with three rapid steps and, sliding his hand around her back, pulled her into a fiercely passionate kiss. There was no gentle tutoring, no easing into the bliss of his affection. It was a vortex, a standing still to immediately sprinting type of kiss where there was no awareness of anything but the other person. He pressed into her, rubbing her back with a demanding touch and his other hand stole under her robe and caressed her hip. Carlotta gasped at the thousands of pleasurable sensations that coursed through her at his touch. Never had she experienced such… desire. It should have scared her, but it felt so… right.

His lips left hers, trailing down her jaw, nipping, tasting and devouring her tender flesh till he rained kisses down her neck, stopping at a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear.


“Please tell me you’re real, that I’m not dreaming this fantasy,” he whispered in her ear before nipping the lobe.

“Not… dreaming.” Carlotta gasped.

He groaned and swept her up into his arms, captivating her lips once more. Carlotta’s body felt on fire everywhere he touched. She wanted more, something deeper, more intimate but she had no idea what exactly.

But she knew she shouldn’t want it as badly as she did at that moment.

He laid her on the chaise and covered her with his body, pressing into her and giving his hands free reign to caress her arms, hips, the line of her shoulders, the soft fabric covering her belly. She gasped as he reached higher till the smallest sound brought to the forefront all of the consequences of their actions.

The door opened.

Lady Southridge gasped.

Charles swore.

And Carlotta wished the settee would envelop her, saving her from the premature demise of humiliation surely taking place.

Unable to move with the duke still quite on top of her, she wiggled till she gained her freedom. Lady Southridge’s mouth was open in a silent ‘O’ before she spun on her heel and left, closing the door firmly behind her.

“That wasn’t expected,” the duke commented dryly, as if the world hadn’t completely shifted off its axis.

“Er, no?” Carlotta commented, not sure what to say, or how to interpret his casual meaning.

He stood, offering his hand out towards her. She accepted and smoothed out her nightgown, her extremely wrinkled, very crumbled nightgown.

Hot shame washed through her.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Anything to keep the tears inside, anything to keep whatever shreds of dignity she still possessed.

Who was she kidding?

Her dignity was gone… just like her pride.

Closing her eyes she refused to look up into his face, not sure or wanting to know what was written in his gaze. Hadn’t she told him earlier she’d not be his mistress? That she was not a light skirt? She had just proven herself a liar.

“Carlotta,” he murmured.

Tears burned. How could something that felt so right now feel so… wrong?

“Look at me, love,” he tipped her chin up with his finger.

She opened her eyes, allowing the tears trapped within to spill out onto her cheeks.

“Tears? No, there shouldn’t be any tears. I know you’re giving yourself quite the scolding, but it’s not necessary. I’ll make a respectable woman out of you yet, my prim little governess.” He smiled endearingly, enchantingly and for a moment, she allowed herself to pretend.

To pretend that she was the princess. That miracles did happen and that renowned rakes could be redeemed for the right woman, for the hope of true love.

But as soon as she indulged in the fantasy, her mind was flooded with the truth. If he married her, he’d be laughed at, maybe not to his face, but behind his back. Brought down by a governess. She could hear the gossip, feel the sneers in her direction and the cutting remarks to her back. London would be scandalized and he’d lose the respect his title demanded.

The quality do not fraternize with the help.

Her father’s words echoed through her heart, causing it to crack, crumbling in defeat and love unrequited.

Because it may have been different if he loved her.

Even just a little bit.

But attraction and lust were not love.

His soft tone interrupted her thoughts. “…It will simply take a few days to obtain a special license. Lady Southridge will be the soul of discretion, I assure you, and your reputation will remain pristine, your virtue quite intact.” He traced her face with soft fingertips, wiping her tears away.

Because she did the wrong thing, he now was doing the right thing. And it was costing him. She didn’t doubt his attraction to her, she didn’t doubt that he had strong emotional attachment, but she did doubt her ability to keep him. He was, after all, a duke. If that weren’t enough, the rumors of his mistresses and dalliances were the stuff of legends. Bad legends, but legends nonetheless. How could she hope to hold his affections for more than a few months, years even? He’d tie himself to her legally, but his heart? Who would own that? The thought of him keeping it to himself, or worse yet, giving it to another when she was the one sharing his name was enough to cause a nauseous feeling to overwhelm all other senses. No.

She’d save them both. She’d save her heart and at the same time, save his dignity. He’d thank her later when he married some rich titled woman with all the right connections. Surely, he’d forget about her, even if she never forgot about him.

“Carlotta?” he asked, his tone like a caress.

She shivered in desire.

“Yes?” she asked, her plans solidifying.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“I think it would be best to speak of it in the morning, your grace.” She glanced down to the floor.

“Carlotta—”

“Please…” And because she knew it would provide enough of a distraction, she used his name. “…Charles.”

His gaze ignited and he bent down to kiss her once more, lingering long enough for Carlotta to force herself away, against her own fierce desire to melt into him once more.

“Good night,” she whispered, forcing herself to walk to the door.

“Carlotta, are you sure… please wait,” he pleaded, holding his hand slightly out towards her.

“I just need time… please.”

He watched her intently, she could see the war within his mind battling in the dark and intense gaze, but he nodded.

Sighing silently in relief, she made her way into the hall… and ran.

“Please, Carlotta, Miss Lottie, stop. I beg you.” Lady Southridge’s voice called to her just as she reached her door.

“Forgive me, my lady. My behavior was inexcusable.” Carlotta paused with her hand on the door, willing to escape as soon as possible, but her conscience —the blasted morality that decided to wake up after the fiasco in the library!— wouldn’t let her escape to the safety of her room till she apologized.

“No, no there’s no need. I’m afraid it’s rather my fault,” Lady Southridge commented guiltily.

Carlotta turned, watching the fair woman take a few tentative steps towards her.

“You see, I was, am, quite a meddlesome person. Charles, Lord knows I love him like my own son, but he is quite… dense. I, er, suggested earlier that he compromise you, never once considering he’d actually take my advice—”

“Lady Southridge there’s no need—”

“Please, let me explain. You see, Charles, he is quite in love with you, my dear. I’m sure that’s why he acted as he did.”

“By compromising me?” Carlotta asked, toneless. Though her memory reminded her that she was quite responsible for said compromising.

“By trying not to. I assume your virtue is still intact?”

From the top of her head to the tip of her toes, she flushed, blushing painfully. Nodding she stared at the ground, willing it to open up and swallow her.

“Your innocent nature will not understand just how much restraint he was using to keep you that pure, my dear. Rather than see his actions as dishonorable, please consider the opposite. That’s all I wanted to say, and I feel I’m failing miserably, but please, that fact that he didn’t truly compromise you is the truth of the depth of his love. Because he thought of you, before the demands of his own body.”


With a nod, Lady Southridge disappeared into the night.

Carlotta blinked in the darkness, her mind spinning, trying to digest all the information from Lady Southridge. It was an intriguing thought to consider the converse of his actions, especially when coupled with her responsibility in the whole disaster.

Intriguing and damning, because if there ever was an appropriate time for a lady to curse, it was now.

Damning because more than ever she realized just how it was all her fault.

****

Carlotta awoke to a soft knocking on the door. Expecting Berty having suffered a nightmare, she opened the door without putting on her robe.

Tibbs, not Berty was on the other side of the door, the austere butler, averting his eyes rapidly once he saw her, cleared his throat before speaking. “Miss Carlotta, you have a caller. Forgive me for the early interruption, but your solicitor, Mr. Burrows is quite adamant that he sees you, immediately.” He spoke articulately, to the floor.

“Thank you, I’ll be down in a moment once I’m presentable.”

“Very good, he is waiting in the green parlor.”

“Thank you.”

Carlotta closed the door and leaned against it, her heart beating rapidly. For a split second, when she opened the door and, glancing down to see Berty, saw a highly shined pair of boots instead, she thought it might have been the duke. Her heart raced, relieved and simultaneously disappointed when she saw it was in fact, Tibbs, rather than the duke in the hall.

What could Mr. Burrows possibly need? Immediately her heart seized in her chest. Garden Gate! Was there something amiss? Her mind began to conjure up thousands of miserable plights from fire to locusts destroying her last connection to her family. With reckless speed, she put on the simplest frock and pinned her hair into a barely respectable bun before all but racing to the parlor.

“Mr. Burrows?” she asked, tilting her head and walking into the sitting room.

Smiling, he stood and strode over to her, bowing politely and gesturing for her to sit.

If he was smiling, surely he had good news, didn’t he?

“Forgive my early arrival. You’ve been a difficult woman to track down. I would have been here last night but my arrival in the area was too late to call. I stayed overnight in Bath and didn’t want to waste another moment in relaying to you the change in your situation.”

“Change?” Carlotta asked as the small framed man sat across from her and withdrew a stack of papers from his bag.

“Yes, indeed. I have not only discovered that your investment in the Caribbean has turned an immense profit, but, that you have a cousin, a wealthy viscount who upon learning your familial relationship, wishes to marry into your family so that Garden Gate will not fall out of the family.” He nodded as if utterly satisfied.

Carlotta blinked A profit? A way to keep Garden Gate? Could it be true?

“I don’t know what to say, your grace,” she whispered, not trusting her voice. Thoughts of the duke, his laugh, the twinkle in his loch blue eyes and the taste of his kiss flooded her mind.

“I’m sure this is all quite a shock. I’ll explain further if you’d like, but I’m hoping you’ll accompany me to Garden Gate. There are a few documents you’ll need to sign, and I’ve taken the liberty in having the Viscount Darby meet us there. His reputation is valiant, I might add. I took the additional liberty of making sure he wasn’t a fortune hunter or wastrel.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, because there was nothing more to say.

“Of course! Will you accompany me? I’m sure, given the change in your station, the duke will excuse you for a few days. In the meantime I’m sure he’ll be able to find a replacement governess for the wards.”

The girls!

Carlotta took in a sharp breath. The girls, she couldn’t leave them for any length of time without saying goodbye.

“If the duke allows me, I’ll leave with you as soon as I can pack. I must say goodbye to the girls, however. And I must return in a few day’s time, I’ll not shirk my responsibility, regardless of my change in station.” She didn’t mention that she didn’t know how she’d be able to say goodbye to the girls, or the duke. Nor did she even entertain the idea of marrying the Viscount Darby. It was too much, the fresh emotions from last night had left her heart raw.

Though the idea of marrying the Viscount did offer the perfect escape. But she refused to dwell on it. One moment at a time, that was how she’d survive the day.

“Let me find Tibbs.” Carlotta stood and walked to the door. After locating the butler, who was standing down the hall as if waiting for her, she explained the situation, omitting the part about the Viscount. Tibbs nodded sagely.

“Miss Lottie, his grace is unavailable. He left earlier this morning, at dawn. I’m not sure when he will return either as he didn’t give me any particulars. However, if memory serves correctly, this is your day off, having been rescheduled from the previous day because of your picnic. Am I correct?”

“Er, yes, actually. Thank you Tibbs. That will work out nicely. I’ll simply leave his grace a note explaining my plans.”

“Very good. Should we expect you back tonight?”

“Actually, no. I will likely be gone for a few days. That will not work. Hmm.” Biting her lip, she thought over a solution.

“If I may be so bold, Miss Lottie? Perhaps you can speak with Lady Southridge?”

“Yes, I believe I will. Do you know where I might find her?”

“In the dining room, breaking her fast.”

“Thank you, Tibbs. Please excuse me.”

Her heart beat rapidly as she approached the dining room. In all truth, the last thing she wanted was to talk with Lady Southridge after their midnight conversation, but there was no other option with the duke gone to who knows where.

And, upon reflection, she wondered quite painfully where he had gone. In the whirlwind of all the information from Mr. Burrows, she hadn’t stopped to consider the duke’s absence. Why had he left? He couldn’t have returned to London, his guest, Lady Southridge was still in attendance.

Carlotta had to hold off on her runaway thoughts as she entered the dining room only to find Lady Southridge absent, the girls, however, were all grinning at her through slightly sleepy eyes.

“Good morning, Miss Lottie!” Bethanny chirped, her expression beautiful if not slightly drowsy.

“Good morning, girls. I trust you slept well?” Carlotta asked as she rounded the table and caressed Berty’s cheek, smoothed Beatrix’s hair and squeezed Bethanny’s shoulder in succession.

“Yes, quite well,” Beatrix spoke softly, the quietest of the three sisters.

“I’m thankful to hear it. Have you by chance seen Lady Southridge?”

“No, the dining room was empty when we arrived. I haven’t seen her all morning,” Bethanny answered, her expression curious.

“Oh, I need to speak with her.”

“Is something the matter?” Berty asked.

“Yes, no, well, I’m going to be gone for a few days.” Carlotta sat down across from the girls, wanting to be as honest as possible. They deserved as much. “It would seem that an investment my father made, has made a change in my financial position—”

“You’re going to not be our governess anymore?” Beatrix burst out, her expression horrorstricken.

“What?” Berty shouted, tears brimming in her eyes.


“Yes, I’m still your governess. I’m not saying that kind of goodbye, I’m just needed to address some matters.”

“Oh, you’ll be back though?” Bethanny asked her eyes wide with concern.

“Yes. I’ll be back.”

The girls visibly relaxed at her reaffirmation. “I do need to find Lady Southridge, however. I’ll come and say goodbye before I finally depart.”

“Very well.” The girls spoke hesitatingly, their eyes wary despite her reassurance.

Carlotta quit the room and began to search for Lady Southridge.

And found her speaking with Mr. Burrows.

Never had she been so thankful for client confidentiality.

“Lady Southridge.” Carlotta curtseyed. “I have a matter to discuss with you, if you have a moment?”

“Of course.” Lady Southridge eyed Mr. Burrows worriedly and turned to Carlotta.

“It would seem that an investment my late father made in the Caribbean, has changed my situation. Mr. Burrows wishes for me to accompany him to my estate, Garden Gate, to finalize the particulars. To do this, I’ll be needing a few days off from my responsibilities.”

“I see.” Lady Southridge appeared worried.

“I’ll be returning, my lady.” Carlotta felt compelled to add.

“Oh, I’m sure, I meant I never mean to imply that you’d disregard—” She eyed Mr. Burrows. “—the girls.” She cleared her throat, and shot a very direct gaze to Carlotta.

Because she didn’t mean the girls as much as she meant the duke.

She was not to disregard the duke.

“I wouldn’t disappoint the girls in such a way.” Carlotta glanced to the ground, not able to meet her implication with the affirmation she sought.

“You will return.” Lady Southridge spoke in a clear authoritative voice.

“Yes, my lady.”

“And I’m assuming you’re asking my permission since his grace is strangely absent?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. I’ll expect you to be back within three day’s time, however.”

“Very good, Lady Southridge. I’m sure I’ll be back by then, if not before.”

Lady Southridge took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing slightly before she turned and excused herself form Mr. Burrows and Carlotta.

“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Burrows, I’ll gather my things.”

Nodding he strode to the fire and waited.

****

Less than an hour later Carlotta sought out the girls. After whispering goodbyes amidst hugs and far more tears than she cared to admit, she walked down the hall to where Mr. Burrows waited.

“It is clear you’ve grown quite fond of your charges,” Mr. Burrows commented, his eyes compassionate.

“I have, indeed.” Carlotta sniffed delicately.

“Garden Gate is not far. With such a maternal instinct, I hope I’m not being too forward in stating that perhaps you should seriously consider the Viscount’s offer of marriage. Surely a woman such as yourself with a remarkably tender disposition should have children of her own.” He led them down the stairs.

His words hit their mark, but not in the way he likely would have assumed. Carlotta immediately imagined little fat babies… with summer sky blue eyes and thick patches of dark hair, wide lips and mischievous grins remarkably like their father’s.

The very children she could never bear.

But ached for regardless.

“I’m not offended, Mr. Burrows. Thank you for your kind insight,” she responded.

“I hired a maid from Bath, she’ll attend you in case there isn’t one available at Garden Gate. I hope that’s acceptable?”

He helped Carlotta into the carriage then entered as well. “Thank you, I hadn’t considered that.”

“You’re a very wealthy young lady, the daughter of a baron. Your station requires far more propriety than that of a governess.” He shrugged.

Immediately they set towards Garden Gate, a war waging within Carlotta. Not three months ago, she was lamenting leaving her precious home, certain her heart would remain in the halls of Garden Gate without her. Yet, now, the further she traveled from Greenford Waters, the fainter her heartbeat sounded to her own ears.

Her heart had found a new home. And while she struggled to convince herself that it was because of her fierce attachment to the girls… she knew the truth. No matter how she fought it, tried to forget it and insisted against it, her heart was held by none other than the Duke of Clairmont.

The very man whom she could never have.