What the Duke Wants

Chapter Five




Charles stared at the fire until he heard the soft click of her heels in the hall, then he closed his eyes in shame. What a miserable emotion! What a miserable situation he found himself in, over a governess no less.

But if he were being honest, and he found that he was, indeed, being honest, she wasn’t just a governess any longer. Not after that kiss.

Charles considered himself experienced in the more romantic arts, to say the least. He was familiar with all types of kisses; seductive kisses meant to lure a man to bed, as well as flirtatious kisses, meant to entice but innocent enough to simply tease. But one kiss he was not familiar with was an inexperienced kiss. Contrary to what he would have assumed, it was by far the most tempting, alluring siren call of all.

Or perhaps it was just her kiss.

She had tasted of sweet strawberries and cream, all smooth and velvety. Her lips were far softer than he expected, captivating him from the first whisper of contact. Her tentative response was nearly his undoing if it hadn’t reminded him of her purity, of her innocent nature regarding seduction.

If her innocence was as captivating as that, then heaven help the man with whom she discovered her passions.

Charles swallowed hard. He wanted to be that man. The thought of any other man teaching her the joys of passion made his blood boil with a fever of rage.

Normally he wasn’t one given to extreme emotions, yet she seemed to provoke a great many within him. Just another aspect of the decadence that was his governess.

His governess.

As if he needed a reminder of the difference in their stations, he glanced down to his ring; the family ring that had carried though generations and generations of Clairmonts. Not once had there been a marriage that didn’t include the purest of pedigrees.

A governess. His father must be spinning in his grave. Charles shook his head, trying to dispel the conflicting and confusing emotions and thoughts.

This was why he chose to live in denial. Too bad that ship had apparently sailed away, along with his sanity.

What had he been thinking to kiss her like that? Dripping wet no less, he had practically accosted her. Only, she hadn’t run away. She’d kissed him back.

She had kissed him back.

Startled by the obvious realization, he felt a self-satisfied grin overtake his features. It was short lived as he remembered just how he ended the lovely exchange of a kiss.

Yes, shame overcame him again.

Would the carousel of emotions ever end? It was bloody exhausting, all this caring and wondering. Yet at the same time, it was blissful and exhilarating. Women chased him, where now he would be the one to pursue, if he did, indeed, choose to pursue.

But he couldn’t.

She was, after all, a governess. Probably from a merchant family, blue stocking to the core.

But that kiss made him almost willing to take the chance.

Almost.

****

“Miss Lottie?” Berty asked as they sat down to dinner in the smaller dining room decorated in deep sapphire blues.

“Yes, Berty?” Carlotta smiled at the girl, though her heart still ached. What had she been thinking? Kissing a duke? Therein lay the problem, she hadn’t been thinking. She was consoled with the idea that apparently, he hadn’t been thinking either.

Unless.

Carlotta’s skin erupted in goose bumps, not the pleasant kind either. Surely the duke didn’t think she was a light skirt! One that would dally with her employer? Humiliation at her na?veté washed through her, soaking her soul like the rain had soaked her dress earlier. Was that all it was? Was she simply… available? Yet, if the rumors were true, then he need not search out feminine companionship. It sought him out…


“Miss Lottie?” Bethanny asked.

“Yes?”

“Are you well?” All three girls were watching her with various degrees of concern etching their beautiful faces.

“Forgive me, I was woolgathering.” Carlotta flushed at being so absorbed in her own misery that she frightened the girls. “What were you saying, Berty?”

“I was asking… that is, you’re still our governess, aren’t you? The duke, he wasn’t too mad at you for the picnic?” Berty asked, her question uncharacteristically observant.

“I’m still your governess. The duke spoke with me—” She swallowed, remembering far more than his words. “But have no fear, I’m not dismissed.”

“Good.” Beatrix nodded. “It wasn’t your fault anyway.”

“In a way, it is my dears. I’m to train you but also keep a sharp eye on you. I failed that charge.”

“But we all but ran away, maybe we should explain—” Bethanny began.

“No, it’s all over and done with. Let us all start fresh, shall we?” Carlotta put on her bravest smile as she reached for her napkin and placed it in her lap.

Yes, a fresh start for us all.

Throughout the course of dinner Carlotta found her gaze straying to the door. When a footman would enter to take away their soup bowl or lay out another dish, her heart would thump wildly. She was at war with herself, half of her wishing for the duke to appear and gaze at her with those delicious blue eyes, and half of her hoping that he didn’t show up at all.

As dinner ended and the duke didn’t appear, she decided that regardless, she got her wish. Though relieved, a part of her —traitorous that it was— wanted to see him, to gauge if anything had changed. As much as she tried to silence her heart, part of it hoped that maybe, maybe his quick dismissal after their kiss was his way of covering his own emotions, his own response. The kiss was quite spontaneous. It was highly doubtful he had premeditated it; therefore, it was natural to wonder if maybe he was as unsettled as she.

But she wasn’t to know, because he wasn’t to make an appearance.

“Come girls, let’s retire to the library to read for a spell before bed.” Carlotta rose and waited for the girls to follow suit. With a slight inclination of her head, she motioned to the door. The three girls filed out and walked quietly down the hall. Bethanny opened the large door for the rest of them then slipped in quietly, holding the latch so that when it shut, it was noiseless.

“You’re all very quiet,” Carlotta noted, her eyes narrowing with suspicion, then widening with concern. Were they feeling poorly? Were they sick? Perhaps the rain—

“We’re simply… tired,” Beatrix mumbled, sniffing.

“Oh. Well you are certainly able to retire if you wish,” Carlotta responded, carefully watching their expressions, evaluating the color of their skin, and searching for a cause for their strange behavior.

As she watched the girls, she saw a flicker of a glance, one that passed between Bethanny and Beatrix, which caused her to pause. It was just the type of glance she believed she would give in a conspiratorial manner if she had a sister. But she was an only child, so she simply stored away the thought to ponder on later. It wasn’t as if they could get into too much trouble.

She quickly amended her last thought. Judging by the fiasco earlier in the duke’s study, there was quite a bit of trouble they could find. Maybe she should follow them to bed.

“You know, I’m quite exhausted myself, I’ll follow—”

“No!” Beatrix shouted. She was promptly kicked by Bethanny.

“It’s just that—er—we don’t want to cause you further trouble,” Bethanny said softly. After a delicate pause, she took a few steps forward towards Carlotta. “We’ve caused enough trouble today. We can see to ourselves and you’ll surely enjoy a few moments of respite.” Bethanny’s wide eyes were full of innocent intentions, bottomless and guiltless.

The girl was a skilled liar.

But Carlotta allowed them their deception. If she asked them outright, they’d likely never admit to anything. But if she kept her eye on them, she’d easily uncover whatever folly they had planned. She only hoped it didn’t involve the duke. Heaven knew, she couldn’t deal with another scenario that would require her to speak with him in private.

Her heart would surely crack.

“Well, goodnight then, girls. That is, if you’re sure—”

“Very sure.” This from Beatrix, who nodded emphatically.

As if she needed further proof of something afoot, Beatrix needlessly provided it.

Bethanny ushered her sisters out the door, much to the outrage of Berty who was bitterly disappointed she was unable to stay up.

The room was quiet, too quiet. The grandfather clock ticked, the fire crackled and then, there was nothing else but the sound of her breathing. Truly she shouldn’t be so disturbed by the lack of noise. At Garden Gate it had often been quiet, especially following the deaths of her parents. With no siblings to run about with, she only had her household staff that cared for her, along with the governess she had dismissed upon reaching eighteen. The governess, who had upon her dismissal, run off to Gretna Green with the neighbor’s footman. But, in her defense, he was quite a handsome rogue. For all Carlotta knew, they were in Scotland still. Miss March was pleasant enough, but wasn’t one to expend extra energy on her charge. Apparently, she had spent her energy on the neighbor’s footman, however. While Carlotta wished her well, she felt no resentment at her actions or the distance at which she kept her charge. But that experience was why she felt such a need to build a relationship with Berty, Bethanny and Beatrix.

She’d never had someone do that for her.

And now, she found herself in the position to do just that. Regardless of the trouble they caused, either by their mysterious plotting, or inadvertent mishap, they would grow through their tragedy knowing they were loved.

Even if it were just by a governess.

****

Charles paced like a caged animal. At least ten times, he strode to the study door to open it then pulled his hand back as if the doorknob had grown teeth.

Then he’d pace back to his desk, pick up a few papers. Gaze at them, see absolutely nothing except for her face. After which, he’d march back to the door, only to have the whole bloody scenario repeat again and again.

He never once thought of himself as a coward. However, he was beginning to reevaluate his thoughts. What was it? He was the Duke of Clairmont! His reputation was the stuff of legends! He’d sampled the pleasures of many high profile courtesans and opera singers in the country, some even from other countries. He, who easily discouraged the pesky dandy with a simple scowl, was hiding behind his own study door because of a woman.

No, a virgin young lady.

Who wasn’t noble. Who was his governess.

Well, not his governess, his ward’s governess… but that made her under his employ and technically his governess as well… it got confusing after that. So he poured himself a glass of brandy, relishing the fiery trail it blazed to his stomach. He drained the glass, and promptly poured himself another.

As he sipped, he tried to think of a way that would let Carlotta know he was, well, what was he exactly? Sorry? No. He damn well wasn’t sorry about kissing her. That was quite possibly the most perfect kiss he’d experienced in some time. And he’d just insult her further if he said he was sorry. She’d take it all wrong. Being female, she’d think he regretted her. Which he did, but not in the way she thought. Or would think… or…


“What in the bloody hell happened to all the brandy?” he said to no one in particular, because he was alone.

A warm sensation began tingling in his toes, spreading to his other limbs before settling with its center in his belly. As a few minutes passed and he stared into the fire, he began to feel a bit more, able. Able to leave, that is. His study. He glanced about the room. Yes. That’s where he was. His stomach rumbled, and he tried to remember when he had last eaten. Noon? No…

“Hang it all.” He spoke to the fire. “Bloody governess. Coming in, waltzing in and stealing my… thoughts. Yes! My thoughts. I never was one to be so… unthoughtful,” he grumbled. “You know—” Again, he spoke to no one in particular. “—I don’t have to apologize! I’m a duke! I bloody well take what I want! I wanted a kiss. I took it. There. That’s the end. If I want another kiss, I’ll simply… well…” He realized with a wave of annoyance at himself, that though quite deep in his cups at this point, he was not that drunk to steal another kiss. Or take another kiss, or whatever had happened. At this point, it was all growing quite fuzzy. Perhaps if he were to eat dinner?

He glanced to the door then remembered he was trapped. Dinner. If he were to go to dinner, he’d see the governess. Carlotta, Miss Lottie… Miss Carlottie… He shook his head. Blast and Damn.

He couldn’t bloody well starve.

It was his house after all; he had to leave his study sometime. With a fortifying breath and summoning the courage only a blasphemous amount of brandy could incite, he barreled through the door.

“Ah-ha!” He thrust his fist in the air in victory. He glanced back to the door. “You have been bested!” He pointed at the offending portal.

Squaring his shoulders, he pulled his coat up, and smoothed his shirt, tightening his cravat. With purpose and victory brimming his chest, he strode to the dining room… finding it empty. Of both food and people.

“Bloody—”

“Your grace?”

“Murray!” Charles jumped slightly, casting his butler a severely annoyed expression.

“Your grace, are you quite all right?” Murray asked. His tone was monotone but his grey eyes narrowed slightly, as if concerned.

It was possibly the first hint at emotion he’d ever seen from his butler.

And enough to cause him to lose his train of thought.

Perhaps that was simply the brandy, however.

“Your grace… are you… well?” Murray drew out the words, his lean body leaning forward as he studied Charles.

“Of course. I was just wondering when we planned on dining.”

“Your grace, my sincerest apologies… dinner was served quite a while ago. Mrs. Pott searched for you, but when she was unable to locate you, assumed you had gone out, your grace.” Murray nodded nervously.

Charles glanced down to the polished floor. He did have a faint memory of Mrs. Pott knocking on his study door. Why had he not said anything?

Ah yes, the governess. He was hiding.

No, not hiding.

He was thinking. Yes. That sounded ever so much better than hiding.

Which he wasn’t.

“Your grace?”

Murray probably thought he’d lost all his sense. “Yes, well… please have Cook send a tray to my chamber.”

“Of course, your grace.” Murray bowed and departed to the kitchens.

Charles strode out into the hall. “That worked well,” he mumbled to himself.

“What worked well, your grace?”

“Ack! Berta, Roberty. Whatever your name is!” He calmed his racing heart and adjusted his coat, trying to at least appear in control of himself.

“Berty. My name is Berty,” the little girl said a wry tone.

“Where… no… what are you doing?” Charles’ nerves were already shot, if one more person startled him, he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.

The little girl shrugged.

“Where are your sisters?” Charles asked, glancing up and down the hall quickly.

“In their room.” She leaned forward. “They’re… wait. I can’t tell you.” She gasped and covered her mouth.

“Tell me what…?” Charles leaned down to Berty’s eye level.

“Well if I told you then it would be a disaster. You’d ruin it!”

“I’d ruin it? How so?” Curiosity mixed with severe apprehension clenched in his chest.

“Because well… it just would.”

“Your logic is indisputable.” Charles spoke tiredly.

“Thank you, your grace.” Berty curtsied.

Was she mocking him?

She batted her dark eyelashes.

She was mocking him!

“Now see here Berty—”

“Berty! What are you still doing up?” Carlotta’s voice floated down the hall.

Charles found himself swallowing hard. So much for avoidance. As she walked towards them, he found himself lifting his gaze to watch her approach. She had changed from her wet gown into a deep green dress that showed off the curve of her hips and the smallest swell of her breasts. Her eyes were fixed on Berty but he could swear he saw the faintest hint of a blush deepen the pinkish hue of her cheeks.

She was delicious.

“Berty?” she asked again.

“They were too loud!” Berty whined.

“Pardon?”

“They were whispering, loudly. And every time I asked a question, they’d tell me to hush. So I left.”

“Understandable,” Charles commented.

Carlotta raised an eyebrow.

“I’m simply stating that if someone told me to hush, I’d have left too.”

“I highly doubt you’d simply leave if someone spoke to you that way.”

“Perhaps you’re right…” Charles felt his lips twitch into a smile.

Carlotta regarded him for a moment before turning her attention to Berty. “Love, you need to return to your room. Remember what we spoke about this afternoon?”

“But Miss Lottie! I’m in the hall. The hallway! I am obeying you! Ask his grace! I was not disrupting anybody.”

“Any one.” Carlotta spoke the words at the same time as he did. He glanced to her, their eyes meeting.

“Anyone.” Berty sighed, correcting herself… and breaking the spell.

“Be that as it may… you still should head to your room. It’s quite late and you’ve had a busy day.”

Charles cleared his throat.

Carlotta glanced at him, her eyes unreadable but he could have sworn he saw mirth dancing in their green depths.

“Very well,” Berty conceded, shrugging and then skipping down the hall.

Charles watched her leave and as she ducked around the corner, he reluctantly glanced back to Carlotta.

She was still watching where Berty had gone.

So he waited, studying her profile, memorizing the way her pert nose turned up slightly, and the way her jawline angled into the most delicate bow just below her ear. He wanted to kiss her in that precise spot.

“You can’t avoid me forever.” Charles spoke in a low and seductive whisper. Wincing inwardly at how the words should be aimed at him.

“I’m not avoiding you.” She gave him a sidelong glance.

“Oh?”

“No, I was… wondering.”

“About what? Or whom, perhaps?”

“Do you have siblings, your grace?” Carlotta turned the full power of her gaze to him. It was stunning. Her green eyes had flicks of yellow in them that almost appeared gold.


“Your grace?”

“No. No siblings. Not for want of trying on my parent’s part, however,” he added, though as he spoke the words he wondered why he had thought that information was important.

“Oh. Nor do I…” Her gaze traveled back down the hall where Berty had disappeared.

“You suspect something,” he stated.

“Yes. But I haven’t a clue as to what. Which, I’ll admit, makes me slightly nervous.”

“There are three of them.” Charles nodded. “And all quite intelligent. I shudder to think what they might be planning.”

“You and I both. I’ll have to keep a keen eye on them.”

“As opposed to?” Charles couldn’t help but grin.

“As opposed to giving them any chance to… interfere with the lives of others.”

“Sounds utterly wise.”

“I rather thought you’d agree.” She turned back, flashing a saucy grin. But as soon as the alluring expression crossed her features, she withdrew it, shuttering her expression into a polite mask.

Charles wanted the saucy expression back. He wanted to see the merriment dancing in her eyes, hear the dry whit of her humor and see the way her cheeks squinted her eyes slightly when she smiled.

“Carlotta, I…” he began, not quite sure what he had intended to say.

“There’s no need, your grace.” She offered him a damnably polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes and quickly glanced down at the polished floor.

Charles opened his mouth, intending to say… something but words failed him. He rather wanted to show her what he meant, but knew that would be disaster. He could not kiss her again.

Ever.

Ever, ever, ever.

But oh, he wanted to.

He was sure that a kiss to that delicate spot he was lusting over earlier would surely break through the miserably shuttered expression in her eyes. He was sure that he could coax more than a polite ‘your grace’ from her lips. At once he wanted to hear her voice whisper his name. Not ‘Clairmont’, not ‘your grace’, but his actual name. Charles.

She lifted her head, her eyes slowly trailing her movement till they met his. With a small gasp, her eyes widened and she stepped back.

“Good evening, your grace.” She curtsied and all but fled.

As her footsteps echoed in the hall, he felt cold and empty. As if the fire he was standing in front of had suddenly been smothered. The emptiness was gnawing at him. He felt like a coward for not saying anything about their kiss, but he didn’t know how to go about it. If she were more than a servant, more than a governess, there might have been a chance.

But she wasn’t.

And he wasn’t the type of man to marry, at least yet. Or so he reminded himself. Strange how he always forgot that piece of information whenever she was around.

Closing his eyes he remembered her expression just before she fled to the safety of her room. She’d had the wide-eyed expression of a woman running from ruin, from certain danger.

Which meant he was the threat, the danger.

That thought didn’t set well with him at all. It also meant that she had quite accurately read his thoughts, though they likely had been quite apparent in his expression. An innocent wouldn’t know how to discern between lust and desire. Few knew that there even was a difference.

Lust was shallower, fleeting and purely selfish; a burn that flashed rather than smoldered. Whereas desire, it was a slower burn that tended to flare up at times, but never truly burn out. Desire required one to think about the other person, it involved restraint for selfless reasons. Desire scorched.

What he felt for Carlotta may have initially been lust.

But he was definitely feeling singed at the moment.

His stomach ached.

He needed to get her out of his house. He needed to distance himself, and her, from the temptation. Tomorrow. The rain had slowed and stopped shortly after their return from the park. If it stayed away overnight, the roads might at least be passable. If so, then he’d see that she and the girls left for his estate in Bath on the morrow. It was the only way. With distance, his body would cool and he’d once again be able to think. Rather than simply act.

He strode towards his chambers with renewed purpose. But with each step, he felt emptiness like a cavern grow within him.

Of course, that could simply be because he was hungry.

He just didn’t want to think about for what…

****

“Miss Carlotta?” Mrs. Pott pulled Carlotta’s attention away from the packed trunk beside her bed and towards the door.

“Yes?” she responded. All morning her presence of mind had been unforgivably absent. When she learned that they were to depart to Bath that morning, conflicting emotions had slammed into her chest, warring for dominance.

They continued to battle.

On one hand, Carlotta felt relived. It would be infinitely easier to take care of the girls, to teach and tutor them without the dark and delicious presence of the duke. She knew that if they stayed, she’d always be distracted, wondering if he were to pass by, or speak to her.

The girls deserved better than that.

Yet, at the same time, her heart stung with the bite of rejection. The venom of insecurity swirled around her mind. Why was he having them leave, and on such short notice? She knew he was intending on moving the girls to the estate in Bath, but as he came to know them, she rather hoped he’d want to be more of a part of their lives.

And maybe of her life too.

But even as her mind whispered the words to her heart, she bit back a sarcastic laugh. She must be delusional to even entertain the slightest thought of the duke paying her mind. While he did kiss her —and oh, what a kiss it had been!— she wasn’t foolish enough to entertain serious thoughts about his intentions. It would only invite heartbreak.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind. “The quality do not fraternize with those who are not. It’s simply not done.”

She relived that particular lecture after her father discovered her frolicking with the stable master’s son, Rory. It had been innocent enough. Rory was a few years her senior, and had been a friend since she was quite young. She had been but twelve, that blessedly awkward stage where she was no longer a child yet, not yet a woman. Rory had invited her to skip rocks and she quickly agreed. They had their usual competitive banter, but then something changed. In hindsight, she realized that Rory was about more than simply skipping rocks, but at the time, she simply noticed how his hand felt warm on hers when he tried to show her a new way to skip the rock. He had whispered the instructions in her ear, in a low tone that had made her skin erupt in goose bumps.

She’d followed his instructions and skipped the rock. Upon turning her head she had realized just how close he was, and how he smelled like leather and cedar.

Her father called her name not a moment later.

As her father beckoned her to attend him to the house, she didn’t miss the piercing gaze he shot to Rory. Once inside, Father had led her to the library.

“Dear Lottie,” he began and proceeded to explain the difference between those titled and those not. It was a lengthy lecture, running all together in her memory, but one part seemed too clear, hauntingly so. It mocked her now.

“Those who are titled never, ever fraternize with the servants.”

Never ever.

Of course, her father could have never foreseen that the daughter he delighted in would one day be forced into the position of governess. No season, no marriage mart, no advantageous match, and no further titled generations roaming the halls of Garden Gate. All of that disappeared when the money was lost. Granted, she still was the daughter of a baron; impoverished as she was, however, she might as well be the daughter of a merchant for all the good her father’s title did for her now.


“Carlotta?” Mrs. Pott called again.

Pulled from her musings, she turned to the housekeeper who had just let herself in.

“Forgive me, but when you didn’t respond, I thought perhaps you were finished and had already left to see the girls.

“I was woolgathering I’m afraid.”

“No need to apologize.” Mrs. Pott gave her a warm and maternal smile. “Are you almost finished?”

“Yes, I don’t have terribly much to pack. In fact…” Carlotta stood and smoothed her skirt. “I believe I’m finished.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have a footman come and take your trunk to the carriage. You’ll love Greenford Waters, near Bath, Miss Lottie. It’s truly a dream. The gardens are my favorite part. I’ve only been once, attending the late Dowager, but I’ll not forget it.”

“I’m sure it will be beautiful.”

Carlotta felt a slight pain of loss as well as anticipation. After all, Bath was quite close to Garden Gate. Perhaps she could find out just how the estate was managing without her. Mr. Burrows had taken care of all the particulars so she had all faith that all was as well as could be expected, however, it would be wonderful to see it for herself.

“I’ll go and check on the girls.” Carlotta nodded to Mrs. Pott and entered the hall. The gilded artwork and opulent furnishings of the duke’s London residence were beautiful, but she hoped that the estate in Bath was a little less, intimidating. All one had to do was simply meet the duke to realize the power and wealth he possessed, the house was simply an overstatement. Not overdone, but a reminder that was unnecessary. Though she supposed it was probably common among the ton.

“Beatrix! I promise it will all work out simply beautifully. You’ll see. I have all faith—”

“All faith in what?” Carlotta asked as she pushed open the already ajar door into the girls’ room.

“Uh…” Bethanny stammered, her eyes widening and glancing to Beatrix, who simply shook her head and took a step back.

“Oh, Miss Lottie! I’m so very excited! I hope the duke’s house has gardens so we can run and play tag. Maybe there’s even a pond! Do you think?” Berty had rushed up to Carlotta and grabbed her hands, jumping in place while she squeezed her fingers tightly.

“I’m sure there will be plenty of garden for you to roam about and frolic, little one.” Carlotta bent down and tugged teasingly on Berty’s plait.

“I knew it.” She sighed happily.

“Are you three about ready? The sooner we leave the sooner we’ll get there.” Carlotta glanced at the older two.

“Of course. Do… that is… is his grace expected to send us off?” Bethanny asked bashfully.

“I’m not sure.” Carlotta bit her lip nervously. One would expect that he would indeed, see them off. But she wondered.

“Mrs. Pott already said goodbye,” Beatrix commented as she put on her bonnet.

“Did she?”

“Yes! And I think Mr. Murray will miss us. He seemed terribly sad,” Berty commented.

“Murray?” Carlotta couldn’t help the wry and disbelieving tone her words carried. Not once had she even seen the butler carry an expression that varied from polite distance.

“Oh yes! He’s quite kind, you know. Always sneaking us sweets.”

Carlotta raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “And when did he do this?”

“Oh, well here and there. You usually weren’t around. I don’t think he wanted to be caught.”

Carlotta looked to Bethanny and Beatrix, who had small grins teasing their lips. “I had no idea.”

“He really is a dear man. He has a few granddaughters our age.”

“I believe you know more about him than even the duke does.”

“I suspect so. We will miss him, and Mrs. Pott. They have been so lovely.” Bethanny said.

“Indeed.” Carlotta nodded absentmindedly. She was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of Murray sneaking about the house to slip the girl’s sweets. Truly, wonders never ceased.

“I’ll let Mrs. Pott know we’re all set. Don’t forget your bonnet, Berty.”

Berty shot her a mutinous glare and picked up her bonnet as if an unsavory insect.

Carlotta waited patiently.

Berty narrowed her eyes, huffed indignantly, and then proceeded to tie it under her chin.

Very slowly.

Carlotta nodded and left. Murray was waiting in the foyer. Carlotta held back, studying the butler with new eyes. Tilting her head, she tried to imagine him hiding peppermints or something else in his pockets.

“Care to tell me what we are spying on? Or whom?” a rich baritone asked from just behind her.

Carlotta jumped, her hand instinctively flying to her heart. “Your grace! You gave me a fright!”

“Forgive me, you were quite intent on your study of Murray. I’m greatly curious as to the reason.” His eyes danced with merriment and a far too alluring light of mischief.

“It would seem your butler leads a secret life.” Carlotta raised her eyebrow dramatically.

“You have my complete attention, Miss Lottie.” He inclined his head towards her, a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Though as I consider it, perhaps I shouldn’t tell you. I wouldn’t want to break a confidence.”

“Dear Miss Lottie. I can assure you that anything you were about to disclose is likely already known by me. Murray is entirely predictable.” He shrugged his broad shoulders.

Carlotta tried not to notice how his jacket accented just how broad they were. So she pried her gaze from his jacket to his eyes.

Which was a mistake. They were warm, inviting, and harboring a delightful twinkle. It was a deadly combination, so she glanced to his lips, which reminded her of their kiss. Was there anywhere she could focus her attention that wouldn’t cause her mind to freeze up like a shallow puddle in January?

Desperately trying to gather her wits, she blurted, “Murray sneaks the girls sweets.”

She glanced down to the floor. Clearly, it was the only safe place to rest her gaze, everywhere else simply was too much.

****

“Pardon?” Charles felt his jaw drop. When Carlotta said his butler led a secret life, he was anticipating… well he wasn’t sure what but it was not that he was smuggling sweets to the girls.

In fact, he didn’t remember ever seeing Murray around the girls.

“Are you quite sure?” Charles asked, his tone disbelieving.

“I had the same response,” Carlotta replied with a wry grin. Her berry red lips were twisted up to one side and her green eyes danced with delight.

“I say… I didn’t think he had it in him.” Charles shook his head then turned his attention to his old butler once more, studying him in a new light.

“Yes. Bethanny said that they reminded him of his granddaughters.”

“Murray has a family?”

“It would appear so.”

“Oh, I suppose I never really thought about it.”

“Apparently,” Carlotta murmured. Charles rather thought he wasn’t intended to hear, so he pretended that he did not.

Just like he pretended not to smile.

Charles watched Carlotta as she tilted her head, studying Murray. Her neck was graceful and slender. Her body radiated warmth that wasn’t felt as much as sensed. It warmed his soul. Her lips drew his attention once more as they tipped into a small smile, one of innocent amusement.


It had been a long time since he saw a smile like that.

Oh, he had seen plenty of smiles. Too many. Most of them directed towards him with some degree of selfish intent. But a smile that was innocently taking joy without requiring anything in return… that was as rare as hen’s teeth. Especially in the ton.

So he stared at her, memorizing the way her cheeks curved causing her eyes to squint slightly. Like a refreshing breeze in the stifling heat of summer, he let her fresh innocence wash over him.

Until she turned.

Clearing his throat, he tried to appear as if he weren’t caught staring.

Which he most certainly was.

But being a duke did have its advantages. If he didn’t speak of it, then most people would pretend it never happened.

“Why were you staring?”

Of course, most people didn’t include her. No, that would have been too bloody lucky.

And apparently, all luck had flown out the window once she had arrived.

“I was… taking delight in how my butler clearly amused you.” He spoke smoothly, praying urgently that she’d not question his answer.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded. “We are all ready to depart, your grace. The girls… they were wondering if you were going to see them off?”

“The girls?” he asked, searching her eyes intently for a hint of whether she was wishing for his presence as well.

“Well yes…” Her brow furrowed as she met his gaze.

And because he couldn’t help but ask, “Just the girls?” He leaned in, closing the distance and inhaling the alluring scent of apricots and fresh laundry.

“I—I—” she stammered. Her eyes widened, her sooty lashes brushing her winged brows as she struggled to answer his forward question.

He shouldn’t have glanced to her lips. It was a miserable idea. Come to think of it, he didn’t actually think about glancing there, but was drawn outside of his own will. He needed to see them. To commit them to memory. She was leaving.

Of course, she was leaving at his behest; however, that didn’t mean he didn’t wish the circumstances were different.

Why couldn’t she have been an impoverished earl’s daughter?

Her lips parted as she took in a deeper breath.

This time Charles took a split second to think, to consider exactly what he was doing even as he proceeded to close the distance between their lips. He could have backed away, he could have quipped something witty with his devil may care attitude.

But he didn’t.

Damning his own weakness, he admitted that he was indeed powerless against her.

And as his lips brushed hers, he thought that maybe, being powerful was overrated.

She stiffened as his lips caressed hers, causing him to hesitate before deepening the kiss. His body demanded more, aching for more but he held himself firmly in check.

Of course, now his self-control decided to make an appearance.

He teased her lower lip with his tongue, inhaling deeply so that the full effect; her scent, her taste, the slight sound of her breathing all added to the symphony of her kiss.

He’d never heard more beautiful music.

She relaxed slightly, just enough to encourage him and he pressed his lips slightly firmer against hers, increasing the pressure and sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips. She trembled, but didn’t back away. His hands moved to her shoulders, resting on them and memorizing the texture of her dress, the shape of her arms as his hands traveled down to her fingers, where he held onto her dainty glove-covered hands.

He couldn’t remember the last time he held a woman’s hand for the simple pleasure of just touching her. It was blissful and remarkably intimate. Though he desperately wanted to remove her gloves and feel the heat of her skin on his.

As if remembering herself, she backed away abruptly, breaking their exchange. Her eyes were wide and glossy, as if restraining tears.

Charles felt his own chest constricting as he realized he was the cause.

“Your grace, I—”

“Car—Miss Lottie, please. Don’t.” He held up his hand and took a deep breath.

She nodded, her posture full of bravado, and Charles swore he saw her building a wall around herself, as if she needed extra armor to protect against him.

If he hadn’t already felt like a cad, that would have pushed him over the edge.

“Miss Lottie.” His chest ached at the words he knew he must say. His body warred against itself, knowing the truth but wanting desperately to find a way to make it not matter.

But some things just couldn’t be changed.

“I find that moving you and the girls to my estate in Bath is the wisest choice for us both. I’ll freely admit that my attraction to you is unacceptable and therefore, I’m removing you from my presence and quite honestly, from temptation. I’ll see that every need you and the girls have is immediately met and please, if you do need anything, do not hesitate to ask Tibbs. He’s the butler at Greenford Waters. Please give my regards to the girls, I don’t… think it prudent that I see them off myself.” He bowed and left.

The horrifically accepting and humble expression in her eyes haunted his memory as he walked away, mocking him.

****

“I still don’t understand why his grace didn’t say good bye,” Berty pouted in the corner of the carriage as they made their way to the countryside.

“He told me to give you his regards.” Carlotta spoke over the thick lump in her throat. Even after riding in the carriage for several hours, she still felt like at any moment she might dissolve into tears.

“But it’s particularly rude to not say goodbye,” Berty complained.

“Berty, hush,” Bethanny scolded, her eyes traveling to Carlotta and then darting away.

Obviously she was piecing things together. Which was exactly what Carlotta didn’t want.

“How long till we reach Bath?” Beatrix asked quietly.

“It’s about a day and half trip. His grace has made arrangements for us to stay at an inn in Oxfordshire. We’ll stay there tonight, wake early and travel a little over half a day to Bath.” Carlotta used all her inner strength to pull herself together. These girls needed her; she’d not fail them over some weak and futile heartbreak.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t know better. She did know better, but that didn’t prevent it from hurting. She knew it was futile to further the overwhelming attraction that ignited between them whenever it pleased, but hearing it from his lips… it was a wretched dose of reality and still stung.

She never thought he’d break the rules of society and pursue her. She had more common sense than that, but she would have liked for him to. As futile as it was, she just couldn’t seem to communicate that information to her traitorous heart.

Her throat constricted as she remembered his words, but his expression spoke volumes more. His dancing blue eyes were cold, polite and distant, his words clipped and cool, and his posture ridged. Everything he said seemed at odds with his body language. And quite honestly, she didn’t know which to believe. His words were kind, gentle even as he was more honest than was necessary, but it didn’t remove the sting from the implications.

He wanted her gone.

For her good, but also for his. She couldn’t hold that against him. But it didn’t sit well, being so easily disregarded. Her first taste of romance and she had to go and find the most unattainable bachelor in the country.

It miserably aligned with the rest of her recent luck.


But she refused to dwell on it. As she glanced over to the girls, she resolved to leave it behind like the dust from London. Like the smoky and foul heavy air, she’d dismiss it and embrace the fresh air of the future. Who knew? Maybe this temporary heartbreak —because it was temporary, she’d see that it was!— would make her stronger, wiser. And maybe she’d fall in love with someone kind, fiercely attractive and available in Bath.

And she couldn’t forget Garden Gate. Being in Bath would be, in a way, like being home. She’d visited the city often as a child and with her home so close, she could hopefully see it.

The day was looking brighter all the time.

Beatrix was staring out the window, Bethanny was reading, and Berty had promptly fallen asleep and was leaning against Carlotta’s shoulder. Her heart might be bruised, but she’d make sure it wasn’t broken. And above all, she wasn’t alone.