She nodded her head, uncertain how to address the woman who had been destined from birth to become the Duchess of Rutherford. The woman who Charlotte had, by turns, admired, envied, resented, and eventually pitied.
Joanna. Their childhood friend, Philip’s former fiancée, and Ethan’s almost bride.
And now the widowed Lady Grey.
It would have been a cozy reunion if it hadn’t been so . . . well, so damned awkward.
And, of course, if Ethan had been present as well, instead of off in India or China or some other godforsaken heathen nation.
“Your Grace,” Joanna answered, curtsying toward Philip. She then turned to Charlotte. “And Your Grace.”
The silence seemed to stretch endlessly as they each waited for the others to breach the stifling tension, to venture beyond the brief, stilted exchange of greetings.
In the end Charlotte picked up her ruined skirts and, sending the fallen log a rueful glance, splashed her way through the stream and up the opposite bank.
“Joanna,” she said, “I hope you don’t mind my dirty skirts.”
She lifted a brow. “No, I—”
“Good.” Charlotte embraced her. “It is wonderful to see you.”
Joanna’s body stiffened in surprise at her gesture, but then her arms rose to return Charlotte’s hug. “You naughty girl,” she whispered in Charlotte’s ear. “Now he will have to feign decency or appear an utter ogre.”
“He is always an ogre.” Charlotte released Joanna and looked sideways at Philip, whose expressionless mask had slid into place with practiced ease. Even with mud-stained clothes and mussed hair, he exuded masculine grace and authority.
Charlotte frowned. She should push him into the water. It would be well worth his wrath just to have him lose his composure, to have him sputter and curse like a normal person.
It was easier to contemplate how to anger him further than to think about their kiss. To realize that, for the briefest moment, she’d enjoyed the pressure of his mouth against hers, the hot rush of pleasure as he attempted to conquer her will with his lips and tongue.
She must keep her wits about her. After all, he was the man who had taught her to kiss. He was the one who had taught her the skills of seduction, how one’s emotions could be completely distant from the acts of the body.
“Oh, do stop glowering,” she called down to him. “I would have run away with someone else as well, if I’d had any idea how horrible you are.”
“Charlotte!” Joanna’s hand touched her arm.
Philip’s eyes burned into hers before sweeping toward Joanna, then back to Charlotte. It must have been her imagination, or a trick of the sunlight. Surely she hadn’t glimpsed a gleam of humor in their depths.
His gaze swung once more to Joanna. He made a gallant bow, the usual tension in his movements noticeably absent. “Lady Grey. I never did properly thank you for abandoning me four days before our wedding. Please allow me to do so now, for if you hadn’t disappeared, I might never have known the joy of being married to my sweet, darling wife, my lovely Charlotte.”
Joanna inclined her head. “You are most welcome, Your Grace.” To Charlotte, she murmured out of the corner of her mouth, “I’d heard rumors you two hated one another.”
“Oh, we do. He just hides it better than I do.”
And she would do well to remember that his every action, his every word, was just another part of the game they played. Philip sought to control her by any means possible, whether through force, intimidation, or the sweet seduction of a stolen kiss. Or by attempting to gain her favor, as evidenced by the gift of the harp.
All she had to do was stay one step ahead of him until he tired of this farce and returned to London.
The best tool she could use to accomplish both goals of keeping distance between them and angering him stood right before her. All six feet of charm and propriety and broken promises.
“Joanna.” Charlotte smiled. “You simply must come to tea.”
“Now? Isn’t it a bit early?”
“Now is a perfect time. Say yes.”
Joanna glanced dubiously at Philip, who had stepped closer in an attempt to overhear them. “I’m not sure—”
Charlotte arched a brow. “Would you rather speak of Ethan? I heard that he—”
Joanna scowled. “Fine. Yes. I would love to have tea with you.”
Charlotte clapped her hands and looked at Philip. “Oh, darling,” she called. “Is it not wonderful? Dearest Joanna has agreed to be our guest for tea.”
“Indeed, that is wonderful news.”
His jaw clenched. Even from fifteen feet away, Charlotte could see it. She nearly clapped her hands again.
Charlotte wanted to strangle Philip.
If she hadn’t believed he would laugh in her face at her attempt to do so, she would have.
She gritted her teeth as she watched him bend over Joanna’s hand and place a lingering kiss on her fingers. Although she couldn’t decipher his words through the fog of anger clouding her mind, it was enough to hear the low rumble of his voice, that deep purr he used whenever he thought to be charming.
How dare he make
her
feel uncomfortable, when he was supposed to be the one set off balance by the presence of his former fiancée.
Joanna waved as Philip escorted her out of the drawing room. “Good-bye, Charlotte. Thank you for the invitation. I hope to see you soon.”
Somehow Charlotte managed a placid smile instead of the rabid snarl she was more inclined to give.
As soon as they disappeared into the hall, she paced to the window overlooking the front drive. She saw Philip hand Joanna up into the carriage he’d insisted she use to travel home, saw how they grinned at each other like two idiots enthralled by their own half-witted pleasantries.
It was one thing to know your husband found his pleasure in the beds of other women, and quite another to see him engage in such open flirtation, despite your presence.
The carriage rattled away, and Philip turned back toward the house. Charlotte gave him a mocking nod as his gaze found her at the window. No doubt he had arranged for them to rendezvous sometime tonight. Would he even wait for Charlotte to retire for the evening? Would he go to Joanna’s house, or would she come here? Would Charlotte have to listen to their pants and moans as she tried to fall asleep?
The bloody bastard.
Philip merely grinned and waved his fingers until he once again disappeared from sight.
Charlotte counted twenty-two seconds before she heard his even footsteps enter the drawing room.
She continued to stare out the window, determined to maintain her dignity. She would not speak to him, for fear the bitter words which might come out of her mouth would make her appear jealous. Which she most decidedly was not.
She was simply angry.
“Charlotte.”
Very, very angry.
“Look at me.”
She turned around, her arms crossed over her chest, unable to unfold herself from the defensive posture. “Yes?”
“I have given a great deal of thought to what you said.”
“You have?” She arched a brow, her mind racing as she tried to remember what she could have possibly said that Philip would have given any heed to.
“Indeed. I have decided to grant your request.”
Her heart gave a nervous kick in her chest. Request? She had only ever asked one thing of him. He couldn’t possibly mean—
“I will divorce you.”
Chapter 6
A
t his words, Charlotte did something most unusual.
She blanched, going completely white in a matter of seconds. Then she flushed, the color returning to her cheeks in a violent rush.
Philip would have held out his arms to catch what appeared to be her imminent fall, if she had not spoken at that very moment.
Her voice was hushed, her tone so low he had to concentrate on the movement of her mouth just to be able to understand what she said. “You will not jest with me in this manner.”
He lifted his gaze from her lips to her eyes, saw the fury of disbelief unveiled there. “I promise you, my dear, I am not jesting.” He turned from her. How was it he always somehow forgot the strength of her hatred? “However, there will be a caveat to my agreement. I will not concede to your request without receiving anything in turn.”
“I see.”
“Also, as the petition for divorce shall state the cause as adultery, you will bear the brunt of the scandal.”
“I would expect no less, Your Grace.”
He pivoted on his heel. “Is this not cause to rejoice, Charlotte? You have begged me for three years to give you freedom, and now that I am willing to do so, you sound dejected. Could you possibly have changed your mind? Do you wish to remain married to me?”
A small smile played around the corners of her lips. “Indeed not, Your Grace. I simply do not believe you will keep your word. After all, it would not be the first time you have cheated and lied to have your way. How do I know you’ll not do the same yet again?”
Philip advanced toward her. “I mean what I say. I will even write my man of business today, if you like. I’ll tell him to begin petitioning the courts in three months’ time, at my behest.”
Her eyes darkened as he neared. He liked that, liked seeing her awareness as he approached. “And I shall deliver it myself to a courier of my choosing,” she countered.
He inclined his head, letting his gaze drift over the swell of her breasts for the barest moment. “As you wish.”
“It’s agreed, then. You will divorce me. What is your request?”
His eyes locked to hers. He wanted to see her reaction. He wasn’t certain what he was looking for, exactly, but knew he wouldn’t find it if he didn’t look closely. “You advised me to find another wife, to release you. I have found her, Charlotte.” He took another step toward her. “You will help me court Lady Grey.”
“Joanna.”
“Yes. Lady Grey.” She would never be Joanna to him again, not after her betrayal.
Charlotte chuckled, a rich, warm sound that heated the marrow of his bones.
“You find it amusing.”
She pursed her lips, teasing his resolve to stay away. “Yes, don’t you? How ironic it is, that after all these years you would seek her out again.”
“She would be the ideal wife.”
Charlotte tilted her head, considering. “She does appear most proper.”
“I have known her since childhood, and except for your brother, she has never done anything to bring shame to herself or her family.”
“We Sheffields do have a tendency of influencing people for the worst, don’t we?”
The very worst. Even now, there was nothing Philip wanted to do more than tumble her to the floor, to hear her scream his name, to convince her he was the only man she wanted. The only one she could ever possibly want.
Philip stalked away, turned at the last moment before he collided with the cream silk wall, and paced back toward her. He continued the odd patterned movement, his path radiating from her to the edges of the room, but always drawn toward her again. Even though she stood still, doing nothing, he could not resist the force of her allure. It was as if she were the sun and he some hapless, pathetic object bound to be destroyed by the pull of her fierce beauty.
And all the while, he spoke. “Perhaps she is not perfect, but she is very close to it. She has poise, grace.”
“She’s quite pretty, also.”
Philip scowled at Charlotte over his shoulder. Her tone held no condescension or arrogance, and he was fairly certain she didn’t intend to sound patronizing. Yet all the same, it was as though the sun, in all its brilliance and glory, was complimenting a star, a millionth of its size, for the small speck of light it shed.
Her words may have been sincere, but there was no way Philip would believe Lady Grey could even begin to compare to Charlotte’s exquisite beauty.
Charlotte tapped her chin. “Who knows? She might even read the
Times
to you. She does seem much more biddable than I could ever be.”
“Yes.” Philip nodded. “That is exactly my point.”
“Yet, assuming you are serious and I agree to this mad scheme, there is still one particular issue to consider and overcome.”
Philip arched an eyebrow.
“How do you propose to win her over? Even if you petition for a divorce, she is an intelligent woman. She knows the type of man you are.”
It was not a wise idea, but he couldn’t seem to keep himself from stepping closer to her. “And what type of man am I, Charlotte?”
Her mouth curved. “You are arrogant, controlling, manipulative, deceitful, unfaith—”
He laid his finger gently across her lips. “Enough.” Drawing his arm away, he locked his hands behind his back. “You would have me change.”