What the Duke Wants

Chapter Nine




“Charles! There you are!” Lady Southridge breezed into his study uninvited. Though he wasn’t surprised. He exhaled a sigh of relief that Carlotta was safely hidden away, and close. Though he began to question the wisdom in hiding her within listening distance of Lady Southridge. This could be bad.

Very bad.

But of course that hadn’t crossed his mind three seconds ago.

No, that would have been too bloody convenient.

“Charles, I say, where is that governess of yours?”

“Lady Southridge, might I suggest that you take a moment of respite in your rooms from our long journey?” He appealed sweetly.

“What are you about Charles?” She speared him with a gaze that was penetrating to his very bones. Like a young boy caught with his hand in the plum pudding, he felt caught in his own trap. But there was no way to go but through it.

“Why, Lady Southridge, I thought you’d be impressed with my consideration of your delicate sensibilities.” He bowed with a flourish, mostly to hide the smile from Lady Southridge’s view. Delicate sensibilities, Ha!

“Are you feeling quite well, Charles? You looked… flushed.”

“Quite well, my lady.” Charles cleared his throat.

“I see… about this governess. I have not seen her and your servants are quite unhelpful I must say. I wish to speak with her. How am I to determine character—”

“Lady Southridge, I’m sure that she is occupied at the present. She does have three wards to care for.”

“Speaking of which, I did get to meet your wards.” Lady Southridge’s face transformed. Her earlier pinched expression lit up, causing her face to break into a rapturous smile. “Lovely young ladies, Charles. I cannot believe you were able to separate yourself from them for so long. Their manners are impeccable and all three of them will set Town on fire upon their come-out. I cannot wait.” She sighed in delight.

“I—”

“Don’t even think of denying me this privilege, Charles. I’ll not have it.” She shrugged a shoulder delicately, but her gaze was ironclad, making her will quite clear.

Charles sighed. He’d deal with this later. What he needed to do was get rid of Lady Southridge from his study so that Carlotta could come out of hiding.

He paused, determining his plan. “Why don’t you spend some more time with the wards then, Lady Southridge. I’m sure you have much that you’d be able to teach them.” Charles was proud of his bait; surely she’d take it and leave.

“Perhaps you’re right… but I wonder, where is their governess? It seems she was summoned by your butler… Charles.” She narrowed her eyes and took a determined step forward.

“Yes?” Charles resisted the urge to back up, or loosen his cravat, really anything to take her gaze from inspecting his own.

“What did you do with her?” Lady Southridge asked with an all too deceptive calm. Her gaze then left his and began to study the room.

“I haven’t done anything.” That I’d dare tell you. He added silently, thus making his lie more of a truth At least that’s what he told himself.

Her eyes widened and Charles panicked.

“What a lovely view! I had all but forgotten that your grounds are so high. I can see part of Bath from here.” She stepped towards the window, her eyes focused on the view outside.

Charles’ heart hammered, he forgot to breathe. Of course, Lady Southridge would approach the window right next to Carlotta.

Fate really shouldn’t be so cruel.

Or maybe he should have not hidden her at all.

But the real question was, did Lady Southridge know Carlotta was hiding and simply was toying with him, or was she truly oblivious? Charles scanned the tapestries, there was no bulge, and since the cloth touched the floor, no dainty slippered foot could be seen peeking out.

The stress was killing him.

As if to confirm his anxious state, a drop of perspiration trickled down his temple.

And it wasn’t even warm in the room.

“Has your governess taken the girls to Bath? I would love to accompany them… perhaps tomorrow. That is, if we can find her. I do say Charles, for one so smitten, you really are quite unaware of her person,” she chided.


Charles closed his eyes, praying that perhaps Carlotta would have missed that very loud statement of Lady Southridge’s. He felt his face color, his humiliation compounded by her next statement. “ I say, for her to have you in such a lather, I’d of thought you’d seek her out immediately, yet here I find you… alone… you are alone… aren’t you Charles?” she asked, her gaze piercing him as if she could lift the answer from his mind.

“Actually… I am not alone. You are in my company, Lady Southridge… It would be quite neglectful of me to not acknowledge your presence,” he responded with his usual wit, but his voice sounded strange, strained.

As if smelling his deception, she sniffed then narrowed her eyes.

“That goes without saying, Charles. I’m quite aware of my own person. I’m not senile… yet,” she added with a slight smile.

She turned to the window once more, her slight smile growing.

It was the cat and mouse game. One Charles had enjoyed playing more than once before… but he was always the cat. Never the mouse.

However, right now he was the mouse.

And Lady Southridge was a very large cat. Who looked very much like she had just eaten the canary.

Clearing his throat, Charles reached up to loosen his cravat. Blast it all it was sweltering in that room!

“If you are so set on finding Miss Lottie then I’ll call Tibbs, surely he will help you locate her.”

Lady Southridge sighed. “That will not be necessary.” She eyed him meaningfully.

Charles swallowed hard. Holding his breath, he waited.

“I’ll simply retire for a few moments and then I’m sure I’ll find her quite easily. She must have simply stepped out. Even governesses need fresh air.” She spoke graciously all while eyeing him meaningfully.

If he could only figure out what her meaningful glance meant.

“Very well, I’ll not detain you.”

She left quietly, her skirts swishing as she departed. Charles exhaled the breath he had held until she was out of sight, then he leaned against his desk, his heart sill pounding. Turning he strode to the window.

“Charles?” Lady Southridge’s voice startled him, causing him to jump and turn, his eyes large and his pride quite wounded at his own response.

“I do say… are you quite well? You’re quite agitated. Perhaps I shouldn’t leave,” she mused.

“I’m well, quite well. What is it you needed?” he asked, forcing his demeanor to its usual poise.

“I was simply going to ask at what time we dine? Country hours are usually different than that of Town, you know.”

“Six thirty,” he responded curtly, annoyed that her further intrusion was for such a trivial matter.

“Very fashionable, Charles.” She nodded then left, but not before she cast a curious glance to the window as if something she saw there was not quite right… but she was unable to determine just what.

“I’ll see you at dinner. It will be quite informal as I’m assuming you’ll wish the girls to dine with us,” Charles offered, trying to steal her attention away from the window.

Desperation was nipping at his heels.

“Delightful. I shall look forward to it. And you’re sure your well?” Her gaze swept over him with concern.

“Perfectly splendid.”

“Very well.” She gave him once last glance that spoke of her lack of convincing, but she departed nonetheless.

Miracles do happen.

However, just to be safe, he waited till he heard her footsteps faded from the hall.

Then he went and shut the door.

Then locked it for good measure.

Then just to be sure, he put the key in his pocket and waited one minute more.

“I believe it’s safe now, Miss Lottie,” he called out; his nerves were shot.

Carlotta threw the tapestry away from her person and stormed out of hiding, her face flushed and her hair askew from the rubbing of the rough cloth against it.

“Hide? You have me hide?” she asked, her color bright and her eyes sparking with defiance and indignant anger.

Charles had never seen her more beautiful.

Really, he should have stayed in London.

“I wasn’t thinking rationally, I must admit.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Surprising.”

“Sarcasm with a smile. I must add that talent to your growing list of attributes,” he retorted, but his face broke into a grin.

It wasn’t that funny. But the tension from the previous situation was draining from him leaving him slightly unhinged.

Or maybe it was just her.

“Never in all my life have I been asked to hide from someone! If I cause you that much humiliation that you cannot even have me in the same room—”

“Hush now, little kitten. Retract those claws and cease your hissing.” Charles chuckled even as he noted her cheeks filled with a deepening reddish hue as he did so. “I’m not ashamed of you… however since our… conversation was more intimate than I was comfortable with in allowing for introductions, I admit my sense left me and I resorted to juvenile behavior.” He took a step towards her, unable to resist the furious flush of her countenance.

Carlotta sniffed indignantly, crossing her arms and then uncrossing them so she could tuck the stray strands of hair released from her proper style behind her dainty ears.

Her color faded into more of her natural rosy elegance and Charles relaxed, risking another step forward.

“I must ask you to stop, your grace.” She spoke softly, her eyes limpid pools of untapped passion that Charles very greedily wanted to explore.

But he obeyed and held his position.

“You… I’m not…” she began then hesitated, tucking more free strands of hair behind her ears. The gesture made her appear vulnerable and Charles felt a strange yet overwhelming desire to protect her from whatever caused her wariness.

Even if it meant protecting her from himself.

Strange irony, that.

“Yes?” he prodded, his voice gentle in comparison to the war waging within him. All he wanted to do was devour her, taste her addicting flavor once more… yet he would not. As much as he wanted, no, burned for her, he’d rather feel the flames lick his feet than cause her distress.

Lord knows he’d already caused enough.

And the day wasn’t even over yet.

Bloody Hell.

But it was more than that. He was thinking about her, concerned for her, putting aside himself and his own desires… for her. The idea stopped him short. Truly, he couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before.

Which wasn’t exactly complimentary.

But he disregarded that epiphany, reverting back to the first truth. For the first time Charles felt that he might actually, truly be falling in love.

Real love.

The kind where he would actually look forward to waking up beside that person for the rest of his life, rather than wanting to leave immediately after his lust was sated.

The kind where he would find the other person more attractive with silvery hair, and fine lines around her eyes from smiling too many times in his presence.

The kind that required a ring. Not simply a bed.

“Your grace?” Carlotta’s hand on his arm jolted him from his thoughts.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, his voice soft as he was still considering all he just uncovered within his own heart.

“There’s nothing to forgive…” She arched an eyebrow. “At least in the past few minutes.”

“I cannot think of anything today I’d ask forgiveness for,” he challenged back.


Her cheeks bloomed with rosy color. “Including when you asked me to hide?” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes dancing with the knowledge that she had bested him.

“Perhaps that… but only that.” He gave her his best smoldering gaze.

But her eyes didn’t dance with invitation as he had hoped. Rather they grew wary once more and she backed away, her arms crossing once again as if trying to give herself security.

Charles swallowed his impulse to kiss the worry from her expression; rather he relaxed on his back leg and waited.

“You cannot keep insisting on kissing me, your grace. There will be talk, there will be consequences and I will come out with the unfavorable end, to be sure.”

“Carlotta—” he began but hesitated as she lifted her gloved hand for him to wait.

“Your grace. We have already established that this—” She gestured between the two of them. “—is not wise. For pity’s sake, you’re a duke. I might simply be a governess but I’m not unaware of how your social circles work. While I’m assured that you are most certainly aware of how incompatible any type of relationship beyond employer and employee would be, I feel compelled to add…” She paused with a soft sigh, her eyes closing as if humbled beyond what she could bear. “…I’m not one to consider carte-blanche.”

Her eyes were still closed.

Charles heart sank lower than hell itself.

Was that what she thought?

Granted his reputation didn’t add any shine to his character, but he had hoped she saw beyond… but apparently, he was incorrect.

“I do not remember asking you to be my mistress,” Charles said, keeping his voice deceptively calm.

“I didn’t wish to give you the opportunity. Such a… humiliation I could not bear, not at your hand,” she whispered, her eyes opening and her expression lacerating through his heart like a jagged and rusty knife.

“The wards will be searching for you, Miss Carlotta. You best seek them out,” his tone was cold, cruel to his own ears. He resented himself the moment he spoke but it was done.

It was done.

Silently he opened the door, stepping back for her to take her leave. He willed his expression to remain neutral, fighting the deep emotion suffocating him, emotion he couldn’t name nor did he want to explore.

At least not at the moment.

“Very well.” She curtseyed and quit the room but not before he saw the sheen of tears well within her eyes.

Charles waited till her footsteps vanished from hearing and then he closed his study door. He leaned against it, banging his head on the hard wood, praying for a punishment worse than the simple headache he’d have later.

Why did he send her off like that? All he had done was affirm that her opinion of him was correct. Hell, if he were a spectator in the tragedy that was now his life, he would have wanted to pummel himself. But no, his wicked blasted pride got in the way the moment she spoke of mistresses.

Little did she know that he hadn’t had one in quite a while. Not since her. And even the thought of her as a mistress… it caused his blood to race yet spike with a dangerous pitch. It raced for the knowledge what would take place if she were his mistress, and it spiked in thinking that she’d be nothing more.

Mistresses were ignored when their… service wasn’t necessary.

Mistresses were paid company.

Mistresses were never married. Ever.

And Charles would fight the devil himself if another gentleman ever thought of bringing her under his protection. Which inevitably happened with mistresses. A man grew bored with one, so he traded in for another, leaving the previous mistress to find a new protector.

To think of Carlotta in such a state, it made his blood run cold. And his fists ached to beat someone.

To bad right now the only person to blame was himself. He couldn’t rightly call himself out.

What a bloody mess.

“Charles?” Lady Southridge’s voice called to him.

Just for good measure, he thumped his head a few more times against the door. If he passed out then he wouldn’t have to speak with her… he could claim temporary memory loss and forget that the disaster that just happened with Carlotta didn’t even happen. Better yet, he could hit his head hard enough to actually cause memory loss and he’d be ignorant.

But alas, fate was never kind… at least to him.

“Charles?”

“Here. In hell. Come join me,” he responded as he backed away and pulled open his study door.

“What on earth are you doing? And what is that odd thumping noise?” Lady Southridge asked as she regarded him with some alarm.

“Me beating myself. Come, I’m feeling especially charitable and I’ll give you a stick so that you might join in the fun,” he muttered.

“What did you do now?” Lady Southridge shook her head and made herself comfortable on the settee.

The same settee where Carlotta sat.

“Charles… are you particularly fond of this piece of furniture? If it upsets you so, I will not…”

“No, no. Please sit.” He shook his head and trudged over to the chair near the fire.

“I met your Miss Carlotta.” Lady Southridge leaned forward, her eyes bright and… knowing.

“Delightful.” Charles tried to muster a proper response but he couldn’t find the strength.

“I must say, I expected more of a response. I’ll have to try harder. Perhaps you can help me. You see… I caught up with her as she was leaving this very hallway, her eyes suspiciously red rimmed.”

“You don’t say,” Charles replied dryly.

“Indeed. In fact…”

Charles stared into the fire, waiting for her to begin her inquisition.

“I do believe she was foxed!” Lady Southridge’s eyes were wide with conviction.

“Foxed?” Charles swung around to face her, his jaw dropping in shock. “Foxed you say?” he repeated again.

Such an outrageous thought needed repeating.

Rather, it probably shouldn’t have been repeated. Or stated in the first place.

“Foxed,” she said again, her head nodding in affirmation.

“She was not foxed.” Charles felt compelled to defend.

“How can you be sure? Why, you’d be shocked at how many servants—”

“I’m quite aware of what servants do when they feel no one is watching… my own valet has sampled my French brandy a time or two… but Car—Miss Carlotta wouldn’t. I’m sure of it.”

“But how can you be so sure?” Lady Southridge asked, her arms folded.

“Because… she just wouldn’t.” Charles huffed indignantly.

“And that is all the credibility you can give to the subject?” she asked.

“No. But that’s all I’m willing to share on the subject.” Charles stood and paced in front of the fire.

“I shall investigate myself.” Lady Southridge shrugged and stood as if to leave.

“You will do no such thing. You will not even mention that you thought so ill of her, let alone investigate her. You will leave her alone. Am I understood?” He spoke with a steel edge to his voice, one he couldn’t ever remember using on Lady Southridge.

“My, you are in knots over this girl… I had expected it of course but… hmm.” She paused and regarded him. “The only other explanation I can think of for her countenance was tears. But of course… you’d never make her cry… would you, Charles?” Lady Southridge didn’t move and her expression remained unaltered.


But Charles smelled the blood in the water.

His own blood.

And she was a circling shark that had just trapped its prey.

Pity the prey was him.

“I—”

“Because if a gentleman cares for a lady… regardless of her station… she should never have cause for tears.” Lady Southridge began to circle about the room. Walking to the same window, she lightly touched the tapestry where Carlotta had hidden only minutes ago.

Apparently, she wasn’t joking about her suspicion of his affection for Carlotta. He was taken off balance by the full realization that Lady Southridge was championing her, siding with her.

Against him.

If Lady Southridge approved…

“I’m not quite as ignorant as you might imagine Charles,” she commented lightly.

Charles closed his eyes in both humiliation and prayer. His reverent yet soundless whispers to the Almighty begged for the ground to swallow him.

Better yet, swallow Lady Southridge.

He opened one eye just in case, but nothing.

Damn.

Lady Southridge continued to watch him, studying him with far more awareness and likely accuracy than he appreciated. But there was nothing to do but wait it out.

“So tell me, what are your reservations?” Lady Southridge spoke curiously.

“Reservations?”

“I’ve not been living on a rock, Charles. While your conquests of late,” she said, eying him meaningfully, “are of the more notorious variety. You’ve never been one to hide your nature… or your actions. At least from anyone who would have the courage to ask.”

“What are you getting at?” Charles snapped, losing his patience.

“That there must be something about this governess that you find so necessary to keep secret that you resort to hiding her behind curtains to keep her from view. And in all my time in knowing you… which has been a very long time indeed, I have never known you to hide anything… even that which is shameful and you rather should hide.” Her eyes widened as she spoke the last phrase, her tone wry and reproachful.

“You think I’m ashamed of her?” Charles asked dubiously.

“I’m quite certain of it… and if my instincts are correct, I imagine she feels somewhat similar.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Of all the…” Charles ran his fingers through his dark hair, resisting the urge to pull it out.

Women.

“I was trying to protect her! Not just hide her for my own… I don’t even want to speculate what answer you could come up with.” He blew out a frustrated breath.

“Protect her? From whom?” Lady Southridge asked, disbelief in her tone.

“You.”

“Pardon?” she asked, her eye narrowing.

And this is why I hid her…

“Restraint is not in your repertoire, Lady Southridge. You would have seen her and pounced.”

“I’m not a house cat, Charles,” she replied bitterly, and with an ungracious acknowledging shake of her head.

“I’d compare you more to a lioness myself,” he teased.

“So I’m to blame? I find this a little farfetched.” She sniffed indignantly.

“For the hiding… yes.” Charles nodded then turned to face the fire, hoping his answer would eliminate her further questions.

He really should have known better.

“Then why, pray tell, did the poor creature dissolve into tears once I left? I said nothing.” She paused as if remembering her words. “Very well, I might have not been the soul of discretion but I didn’t say anything that would cause tears. Of that I’m sure.”

He remained silent.

“Charles,” Lady Southridge warned.

“You haven’t even met her, why are you on her side?”

“I’m not about sides I’m about finding you a suitable wife!”

“I don’t need your help!”

“Yes you do! She ran from the room crying!”

“I don’t want your help!”

“You don’t get a choice.”

“And this is why I hid her from you!”

“Because you don’t want me to ruin your chances?”

“No I just—”

“You what, Charles,” Lady Southridge snapped back.

“I didn’t want her to face your disapproval.” There, he said it. And already he felt miserable.

“Disapproval?” Lady Southridge repeated, her tone shocked and hurt.

“Must I repeat myself?” he answered tiredly.

“No. I believe you were perfectly clear. Upon my word, Charles. Is this how you treat her?”

“No, I treat her much worse, apparently. After all, I did dissolve her to tears only a moment before you arrived. And here you stand, completely tearless… I must try harder,” he replied sarcastically, with venom.

“Anger will get you nowhere, Charles. The truth however, might have some promise.”

“I told you the truth.”

“No, you told me a portion. The real question is… why would I not approve?” she asked, her head tilted thoughtfully.

“Must you truly ask that?”

“Apparently.”

Charles felt his shoulders sag; his body weary from traveling now seemed almost as if it were full of lead rather than blood. And lucky him, this was the day that would last for eternity.

“Because… she’s a bloody governess! Do you want the truth? I’m miserably wretched for her because I know I’m not good enough for her. My title, my money, my connections. Nothing of it is worth a farthing because it matters not in the truest of things. She is far better than I, yet I cannot pursue her because a match between us is insupportable because I’m a duke… and far poorer in character than she deserves.” Charles walked numbly to the chair closest to the fire and sank into it, sagging his head to be cradled in his hands.

“Oh.” Lady Southridge’s voice grated on his last fraying nerve.

He had just bared his bloody wretched and blasted —and any other apprehensible adjectives relevant— soul to the miserable woman and all she could say was “oh”?

All he wanted was a never-ending decanter of brandy and to forget today existed.

Ever.

Ever. Ever.

Expect for that kiss.

That he wished to remember… simply nothing else of the mess that followed.

“Charles?” Lady Southridge’s voice pulled him from the pool of self-pity in which he was currently swimming.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice muffled by his hands as they still held his head.

“You are an idiot.”

“Your support is overwhelming. As each moment passes I’m increasingly thankful I brought you along,” he replied toneless.

“You should be thankful I’m here to fix the miserable mess you call your life. To think, you, a rake. Ha! I laugh at such outrageous claims. You, sir, have no clue about women or love or anything beyond what takes place between the sheets.” She tsked her tongue.

“I do believe your language was not becoming of a lady,” he said dryly.

“I do believe that your behavior is abhorrent. However, there is hope for you still.”

“I’m glad someone is of that conviction. I, myself, am contemplating other options.”

“Never can expect brilliance from a duke.”

“I have no response to that statement in my current state, but I will think of an excellent reply which I will unleash and fillet you with later.” Charles glanced up at her, a scowl firmly in place.

“My heart quivers.” She put her hand up to her forehead, mockingly. “So… the almighty Duke of Clairmont has fallen. I do believe it is a time for miracles to abound. And before you make any more snide comments—” She held up a hand as he made to open his mouth. “—while she is a governess… I have reason to believe that she is not just a governess. I made a few inquiries while we were in London. What I can’t believe is that you did so little research into her background.”


“She came to us on excellent recommendation,” Charles defended.

“Yes, from her solicitor, Mr. Burrows.”

“No, my solicitor.”

“Her’s as well. How do you think she knew of the opening so quickly?”

Actually, he had never thought that deeply about the subject.

“Why in the world would Carlotta have a solicitor?”

“Why indeed?” Lady Southridge raised an eyebrow.

“You obviously have some knowledge of which I’m not aware of… yet. Are you inclined to share or must I be left in suspense?”

“I’m considering suspense, but I’m going to take pity on you.”

“I do appreciate being pitied.”

She gave him a withering glare.

“I have a question that is a prerequisite for my discloser of information.”

“Delightful.”

“I want to meet her first.”

“That’s not a question. Regardless, the answer is no.”

“Then I’ll keep my information.”

“Damn it.”

“Such language!”

“We both know you are not shocked. Don’t pretend that I offended your delicate sensibilities. We both know those do not exist either.”

“You are in fine form,” she remarked none too gently.

“You have provoked me to that place, Madam,”

“Please. I wish to meet her.” Her tone was quiet, pleading.

And completely out of character.

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“In the light of such persuasive argument, I must reconsider,” he replied dryly.

“Charles, you cannot imagine how long I have waited and hoped against all odds that you might be capable of love.”

“Your faith in me is humbling.”

“If you had seen your life from my perspective, I don’t think you’d come to any different of a conclusion. But now I find myself realizing that hope, that there truly is a woman able to ensnare your attention to the point of idiotic behavior that is vastly unlike you under normal circumstances. Based on what I know of her, she is unlikely to be a fortune hunter. If she is a governess, she’d be well aware that her chances of attracting the matrimonial attitude of a man of quality are slim. Especially that of a duke. And if she were trying to trap you, I’m quite sure you’d smell that plan a mile away. After all, you have been fighting off those type of women since the cradle.”

“Carlotta is not a fortune hunter. She doesn’t…” He trailed off, not sure if he wanted to disclose his intimate knowledge with Lady Southridge.

“She doesn’t… what, Charles?” She waited patiently, her expression open but Charles knew the curiosity was likely eating her alive.

“It’s of no import.”

“I find that difficult to swallow. The truth, if you please.” She held out her hand magnanimously.

“I swear, this, this emotional upheaval is why men pity others of our sex who have fallen in love. Never have I had so much need for brandy in all my life.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the back cushion.

“This sounds promising.”

Charles didn’t speak.

“I will continue to poke and prod the subject till you tell me, this is your fair warning.”

“You are a miserable wretch.”

“I’m still waiting.”

“She doesn’t even want me. That, is how I know she isn’t a fortune hunter. And she’s not playing coy either. I could easily see through that masquerade. But no, the woman I finally think could reform my wicked ways wants nothing to do with them. Though if I were in her position, I’d likely make the same choice. It’s far wiser. I have nothing save a title and money to offer her. While that would be far more than what most women would desire in a husband, that and, if I say so myself, I’m quite dashing and handsome…” He grinned wryly, though his heart ached. His attempt at humor fell flat to his own ears.

“So, let me see if I have grasped the situation correctly.”

“Yes, please summarize my pathetic existence. I’d love to hear it from your gracious perspective. And I thought the day couldn’t get worse,” he mumbled.

“Life is what you make of it. You, of all people, have no excuse. You’ve been given everything. Don’t be so pathetic to find something, someone that requires far more effort on your part and only roll over and quit. You are better than that, Charles.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Giving up? I’m here aren’t I? Believe me, I was trying, trying to do the noble thing and keep myself away! Then you had to barge into my life, inject yourself into the middle of my dilemma and now here I stand, completely at odds with all that I thought I was doing that was correct and I find I was wrong? I can’t pursue her! I can’t offer for her, and I’ll not degrade her with offering less. Nor will I tolerate you inspecting her like a brood mare. I don’t even feel as though I make sense any longer.” He stood up abruptly and paced about the room.

“Sit, Charles.”

“I’m not your pet.”

“No, you’re like my son, and while you are doubting my intentions, I promise you that there is a solution and one that will find you quite happily able to pursue your governess. Now, will you please sit and cease your infernal pacing?”

Charles glared, but sat.

“Now. Before you introduce me, I need you to understand something. While your title does put certain… obligations… on your future wife, those are not set in concrete. Your claim that you cannot pursue her based on her position is nothing short of being a coward. So that excuse is no longer valid. Next—”She paused, subjecting Charles to a very patient glare. “You must choose if you truly desire this woman. I can see, based on your testimony of her virtues, that she is no light skirt or one to dally with. You must choose your words and ways wisely. Under your employ, she will be put in a very difficult position should you choose to try and win her affections. Finally—”

“Will this ever end?” Charles lamented.

“Yes, now quiet yourself so I may finish. Finally, if what I learned is correct, your Miss Lottie is actually Carlotta Standhope whose father was a baron. Titled, but barely. The information I was able to accumulate on such short notice also spoke of a loss of income that precluded her seeking employment. Rumors had it that she was expecting to go to London for a season next year.”

“A season? Carlotta planned a come out?”

“Yes.”

Charles’ imagination quickly spun into action as he dreamed of watching her enter from across the room. Her golden hair spun up and her pastel colored gown clinging to all her perfect curves. The sound of her bell-like laughter carrying across the room to his waiting ears. She’d glance over and meet his gaze…

“Charles? Now is not the time for your wild imagination.”

“Excuse me?” He shook his head.

“What I’m trying to explain is that your chances at winning the affections of your governess, which I might add, I still have not had the pleasure of meeting, are quite good. This of course is on the assumption that you can woo her properly.”

“I can woo.”

“Yes, her earlier behavior was solid evidence.”

“I—”

“You have no excuse. Now. Will you please introduce me to the woman who has succeeded in tying you in knots? It’s been such a dream of mine. I find myself afraid she doesn’t truly exist.”


“She’ll not want to speak with me at the moment.”

“Because you hurt her.”

“Because she thought I wanted her to be my mistress.”

“Good Lord.”

“I’m assuming that was a prayer?” he retorted, using her earlier words against her.

“It was certainly a prayer for your hopeless soul. Divine intervention is necessary if this is what you call wooing.”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“Clearly, because I seem to remember you saying you’d not shame her by even asking such a thing… yet if it were a misunderstanding. Why the tears?”

“I, er, well.”

“Good Lord.”

“You are becoming quite pagan in your use of the Lord’s name this day.”

“I’m praying. Believe me, you need it. You didn’t explain yourself did you?”

“I was quite offended that she’d think so low of me—”

“Because your reputation is all sweetness and light, is that correct? Did you ever consider that she knows all about you? Your reputation that is?”

“I assumed yet didn’t think… oh.”

“Oh.” Lady Southridge mimicked.

Charles glared.

“You need to make this right.”

“Your power to state the obvious is astounding. I’m quite breathless with anticipation over the mysteries you’ll unravel with your next words.”

“Don’t mock me. I’m your only hope.”

“Save me.”

“Believe me, your blackened soul is going through its share of penance with what you’ll be needing to undertake to win this girl.”

“How do you know that?” Charles bit back.

“Think—”

A knock sounded at the door, immediately arresting Charles’ attention. For a moment his heart stopped as he thought it just might be Carlotta, but the very thought mocked him. Why would she want to talk with him after his last performance?

“Enter,” Charles called, his tone authoritative. The need to feel in control of something, even as small as someone’s entrance, was overwhelming after the uncertainty of the past few moments with Lady Southridge.

The door didn’t open.

“Enter,” Charles called louder, but he shared a curious glance with Lady Southridge who simply shrugged.

When no one entered, he strode to the door and opened it himself.

“Hello, your grace.” Berty curtsied prettily and batted her dark eyelashes at him.

“Er, hello, Berty.” He stumbled. “What brings you… here?”

“I live here, your grace.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware of that.”

“Then why did you—”

“Why are you knocking on my study door?”

“Oh, well I was hoping to say hello to you, since you haven’t seen us yet.” She beamed at him, one tooth missing from her top row and making her smile almost comical.

“Well, hello, Berty.”

“Hello, your grace.”

Charles wiped his hand down his face. This conversation was going in circles.

Tight circles.

Berty didn’t seem concerned however; she continued to beam at him.

“Berty!” Carlotta’s voice carried down the hall as she strode towards them, her eyes fixed on her young charge. But Charles noticed a becoming blush to her cheeks that wasn’t there a few seconds ago.

“Miss Lottie.” Berty turned and curtseyed, all sweetness and light as if she were not about to get a scolding.

Charles had to hand it to her for being so brave.

Or foolish.

At the moment, he wasn’t in the frame of mind to decide.

Not when his focus kept straying to the lightly pursed lips of Miss Lottie. They were no longer bee stung from his earlier kisses, but their color, the color of his favorite pink roses in his mother’s rose garden, captivated him, stealing all rational thought.

“Berty, you are to be studying with your sisters in the school room. You did not have my permission to leave. And we’ve spoken about his grace’s need for privacy.

“I did give him privacy. I didn’t even go into his study. It’s not allowed and I obeyed. I just waited in the hall.” Berty shrugged.

Carlotta closed her eyes, her exasperation evident. “Be that as it may, you still did not have my permission to leave.”

Berty sagged her shoulders and nodded. “Yes, Miss Lottie.”

“Please excuse us, your grace.” Carlotta spoke without looking at him.

Who knew that the lack of a glance could hurt worse than the worst glare?