The Runaway Duchess (9 page)

“Will
you stop dragging me,” Dianna said breathlessly once they were outside. A
couple who had been lounging along the marble steps hastily straightened their
clothes and rushed past them, giggling madly.

Her
mind spinning, Charlotte released Dianna’s arm and leaned against an enormous
ivory pillar. The white plaster was cool against her flushed cheek and she
closed her eyes, taking a moment to slow the beat of her heart and gather her
racing thoughts.

From
inside the mansion the masquerade continued, but as it was now well into the
night someone had possessed the foresight to close the French doors and the
noise from within was dimmed to an indistinct murmur. Outside on the front
pavilion the only thing Charlotte could hear was the pounding of her own heart,
but as she controlled her breathing and forcibly made herself relax it slowly
returned to its regular rhythm. If only her mind could follow suit, but she was
too infuriated with Gavin to think calmly.

The
nerving
gall
of that man! To stand before her so arrogantly and tell her
what she could and could not do. Why, he was worse than her mother and the duke
put together! A thousand times worse, she decided furiously.

What
right did he have to tell her she could not have children? True, she had never
given them much thought before, but it was the principle of the matter. A
marriage was supposed to be a partnership, not a dictatorship, and she feared
in choosing Gavin over Crane she was merely exchanging one controlling husband
for another.

Except
that is not what you are really upset about
, a little voice whispered
slyly,
is it
?

No,
it wasn’t.

Gavin
was not controlling. Not really. A man who gave his future wife permission to
seek a lover outside of the marriage bed could hardly be viewed as
controlling
.
And therein laid the crux of the matter. Gavin did not want her as a woman.
He’d said as much, straight to her face.

 
As
long as you are discreet, I do not care who you share your delectable little
body with. This is not a love match. It is a business arrangement…

A
business arrangement, indeed. Perhaps it wasn’t a love match – not yet, anyways
– but it was hardly a damn business arrangement, unless Gavin came alive at the
touch of his other business partners. And he had. Come alive, that is. She had
not imagined the way his muscles quivered and tightened beneath her fingertips,
nor the mad flutter of his pulse. He was affected by her the same as she was
him, and it was infuriating that he would not admit it.

There
was really only one thing to do.

“I
am going to marry Mr. Graystone.”

“Why,
that is excellent news!” Dianna declared.

Charlotte
opened her eyes to see her friend grinning ear to ear. It was a crooked sort of
grin, the kind most comfortable on the lips of those who had indulged in too
much alcohol. She studied Dianna more closely, noting the way she swayed
lightly from side to side and the absence of her long flowing hair. Stifling a
snort of laughter, she asked, “Have you lost something?”

“Yes.”
Dianna frowned and turned in two quick circles before refocusing on Charlotte.
“I know I set my champagne glass down somewhere and now I cannot find it. Is
the masquerade over?”

“For
us it is. Come along, dear. Let me help you down the steps.”

Dianna’s
drunkenness was a welcome – and amusing – distraction from any further thoughts
of Gavin. Taking her friend’s arm, Charlotte helped to guide her down the steps
and together they weaved a broken, tottering line towards their waiting
carriage.

“Please
drive slowly,” Charlotte instructed the driver after he helped her assist
Dianna onto her seat. Yawning hugely, the blond burrowed into a corner and
promptly fell asleep. “She isn’t feeling well.”

“Aye,”
the driver said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he fought back a smile.
“I can see that. Back to your residence, Lady Charlotte?”

“Yes,
back to my house,” she confirmed. “Oh, and Rivers, could you take us around the
back so—”

“Your
mother does not wake? Yes, Lady Charlotte.” With a wink and a nod the driver
closed the door and climbed up into his seat. The carriage swayed ever so
slightly, there was a jingle of harness, a horse’s quiet nicker, and then they
were off.

Sliding
across the seat until she was next to Dianna, Charlotte rested her head on her
sleeping friend’s shoulder and closed her eyes, banishing any wayward thoughts
of Gavin and weddings and children from her mind, if only for a little while.

CHAPTER TEN

“My
head hurts like the dickens.” Sitting up in Charlotte’s bed with a groan,
Dianna wrapped both hands around her temple and squinted across the dark room
to where Charlotte stood in front of a massive armoire busily yanking out
dresses and dropping them into a traveling trunk. “What time is it? Where are
we?”

Charlotte
rocked back on her heels and pivoted to face the bed. She had been awake for
the past two hours, the adrenaline and anxiety pumping through her veins making
it impossible to sleep.

Somewhere
between their return home and now, while she had been staring up at the ceiling
doing her best to ignore Dianna’s soft snores, she made the decision to carry
through with her plan to marry Gavin.

All
things considered, it really was her best – and only – option. Marrying the
duke was out of the question, and even though she would prefer to simply run
away she could not in good conscious leave her mother indebted to Crane, not to
mention the small fact that she had no skills with which to make a living.

A
lady was bred and raised for one occupation and one occupation only: to be a
wife and provide an heir. Barring that, they really were useless creatures,
Charlotte included. She would not know the first thing about being a maid or
running a shop.

No,
marriage it was. For better or for worse, she would be Gavin’s wife by week’s
end, which meant she had approximately seventeen minutes to finish packing, get
dressed, and magically transport her heavy traveling trunk down the stairs and
out the front door without waking her mother.

“Charlotte,
didn’t you hear me? I asked you a question. Well, two questions. I think.”
Dianna flopped back on the bed and threw an arm over her face. “Why does it
feel as though a small man is inside my head wielding a hammer?”

“You
imbibed in a few too many glasses of champagne last night.” Despite the dire
timeline she found herself under, Charlotte could not help but grin. “You were
well and truly foxed, my dear.”

Dianna
sat up on one elbow and squinted blearily in Charlotte’s general direction. Her
hair was a halo of messy blond curls around her face and she was still wearing
her costume; Charlotte having been unable to peel her out of it before she
collapsed into bed upon their return.  “I was?” She pursed her lips. “I
have never been foxed before. Did I enjoy myself?”

“Immensely.”

“How
do you know?”

Charlotte
paused in the act of plucking yet another dress from the depths of the armoire.
Frowning, she held it up and tried to gauge the color in the dim lighting. Was
it navy blue or plum purple? “How did I know what?” she asked absently.

“That
I had indulged in too much champagne.”

“You
hung out of the carriage window on the way home and burst into song.” Blue, she
decided. Most definitely blue. Folding it in half, she tossed it on top of the
others and reached inside for one more.

“I
did
not
,” Dianna breathed.

“You
most certainly did.” Charlotte popped out of the armoire holding a traveling
cloak to her chest. “Since I was the one who had to pull you back inside before
you killed yourself, I should know better than anyone.”

“I
was a hoyden,” Dianna said, not sounding entirely displeased by the notion.

“Of
the first order,” Charlotte agreed.

“Then
we are in your bedroom?”

“Yes,
Rivers brought us back here last night.”

Dianna
muffled a yawn. “Why are you up so early? What time is it?”

“Just
before dawn.” Charlotte glanced out the window to gauge the sunrise. The sky
was streaked with reds and pinks, and unbidden a poem she had heard recited
more than once rose to her mind:

Red skies at night, sailors delight

Red skies in morning, sailors take warning

Was
the crimson sky a warning? Surely not. Mindful of the creaky floorboards she
tiptoed across the room and drew the curtains closed, hiding the offensively
colored sunrise from view. Charlotte had never been a superstitious sort, and
she certainly wasn’t going to start now.

Everything
was going to run according to plan. She was going to Gretna Green, marrying
Gavin, and… well, there really wasn’t much of an ‘and’ after that, but she was
confidant it would all sort itself out not because she wanted it to, but
because it
had
to.

“Are
you going somewhere?” For the first time seeming to notice the half filled
trunk at Charlotte’s feet, Dianna pushed herself into a sitting position and
swung her legs over the side of the mattress, dragging the blanket with her. “I
am never drinking to excess again,” she grumbled. “It makes it much too
difficult to think.”

“I
am packing for Gretna Green.”

“Gretna
Green? Why, that must mean…”

“Yes.
I am marrying Mr. Graystone.”

“WHAT?”
Dianna shrieked. At Charlotte’s cutting glare she meekly pressed a finger to
her lips. “I know, I know. I did not mean to yell,” she whispered. “It is
simply all so
exciting
! Leaving one man to run off and marry another.
How romantic and dear. Tell me everything. Did he get down on one knee? Did he
proclaim his love for you?”

Her
lips twitching at the idea of surly, brooding Gavin dropping down on one knee
to propose, Charlotte shook her head. “No and no.” Stuffing one final dress
into the trunk, she closed the lid and sat down on top of it, using her weight
to help fasten the brass latches. “It was all quite practical, actually. We
both need something the other can provide. It will be a business arrangement,”
she said, unconsciously echoing Gavin’s exact thoughts.

“A
business
arrangement?” Dianna’s pale eyebrows drew sharply together.
“That does not sound very dear at all.”

“It
is not meant to be dear. It is meant to be a solution to my problem, which it
is.”

“Yes,
but—”

“I
am late. Do you think you could help me carry this down the stairs?”

Charlotte
did not need to be reminded there was absolutely nothing romantic about her
impending marriage. Her life was not a fairytale, and she was not a love struck
heroine running off to meet her prince charming.
Practical
, she reminded
herself.
You need to be practical
. She was not a girl any longer, she
was a woman. A woman taking her own destiny in hand and changing it as she saw
fit.

Beginning
with getting this bloody trunk down the stairs.

It
took all of Charlotte, Dianna, and Tabitha’s strength combined to muster the
heavy trunk out the front door and onto the street. They managed to do it just
in the nick of time, for they had no sooner dropped the trunk on the
cobblestone and collapsed back against the front steps than a carriage pulled
by a keen looking bay rounded the corner and came to a precise halt directly in
front of them.

“Lady
Charlotte?” the driver said, lifting the brim of his hat.

Huffing
and puffing, Charlotte straightened the skirt of her dark gray traveling habit
and stood up. “Yes. I’m here.”

“Good
enough.” Jumping down, the driver lifted the trunk with enviable ease and slid
it into a holding compartment beneath the belly of the carriage. “Are ye ready
to go, then?”

No
,
Charlotte thought.
No, I am not ready. I’m not, I’m not.

“Yes,”
she said with a determinedness she certainly did not feel. “My maid will be
traveling with me for the duration of the trip, but my friend Lady Dianna will
need to be taken to her residence on Bayview Street.”

If
everything went as Charlotte hoped it would, Dianna would be able to sneak into
her town house without her parents being any the wiser. She would tell them the
shopping expedition planned for the morning had been cancelled, and when
Charlotte’s disappearance came to light she was prepared to plead complete and
total ignorance.

Having
donned a full length cloak to disguise her lack of proper attire, Dianna smiled
sweetly at the driver and toyed with a blond curl. “I hope that is not a
problem, Mister…”

“Greensburgh,
my lady,” the drive said hastily. His chest puffed out and he removed his hat
with a flourish. “Brian Greensburgh. And no, my lady, it won’t be a problem
a’tall.”

“Wonderful.”
Dianna sailed past him and into the carriage, followed closely by Tabitha who
fussed over the hem of Dianna’s long cloak and made certain it did not drag on
the ground.

The
decision to bring Tabitha along as a lady’s maid had been an easy one.
Charlotte was in need of a companion for the trip either way, and when she
returned to London and moved in with Gavin it would be nice to have a familiar
face amidst her new household staff. Not to mention the fact that Tabitha could
not lie to save her life, and when Bettina questioned her as to Charlotte’s
whereabouts – which she surely would – the poor maid would be thrown out on her
ear when it came to light she had warned Charlotte against the duke.

Once
all three women were safely ensconced inside of the roomy carriage it set off
at a brisk pace towards Bayview Street. The sun was just breaking through the
jagged rooftops in the distance and everyone still slept, even the hawkers.

Dianna
was looking noticeably weary from their late night escapades, but Tabitha was
bright and alert and so it was to her Charlotte turned. “Do you think I packed
enough dresses?”

“Yes.”
The maid’s head bobbed up and down beneath her gray bonnet. “More than enough,
Lady Charlotte.”

“And
shoes? I should have brought the black leather ankle boots.” Her fingers
twisted fretfully in her lap and began to beat a nervous staccato against her
knee. “Perhaps we should go back and get them. What do you think?”

“I
think,” Dianna said before Tabitha could speak, “that you’re turning chicken.”

Charlotte
scowled. “I am not turning
chicken
.”

“Yes,
you are, but it is fine. Expected, really. All brides have pre-wedding jitters,
don’t they Tabitha?”

“Don’t
answer her Tabitha,” Charlotte ordered. “
She
isn’t the one about to go
to Gretna Green to marry a perfect stranger!”

Her
eyes darting back and forth between the two women, Tabitha wisely kept any and
all thoughts to herself. 

“If
only I were!” Dianna cried. Sitting bolt upright in her seat, the blond threw
her arms wide. “You should be excited, not afraid. You get to move on with your
life while I am stuck in the past, waiting for a husband who will never come.”

“Exactly!”
Charlotte shot back. “You will never have to marry.”

“No,
I will just have to live with my parents until I wither away and die, childless
and alone!”

In
the shocked silence that followed such a dire proclamation, Charlotte felt a
wave of shame descend upon her. She was taking out her fears and trepidations
on the one person who had always been loyal to her, and it was neither right
nor fair. Reaching across the narrow aisle she took Dianna’s hand in hers and
squeezed it tight. “I am sorry.”

“As
am I. Everything will be all right, you know. I have a feeling,” she said
confidently.

Ever
since they were young girls Dianna had claimed to have ‘feelings’ about certain
things. Sometimes they were ominous, other times happy and good. Being of a
more practical mind Charlotte did not make decisions based off of what her
friend felt, but she did not entirely discount Dianna’s intuition either. Some
people, she believed, had a knack for sensing things that were not immediately
apparent and Dianna was most definitely one of them.

Sitting
back, she directed her gaze to the window. They had turned onto Bayview Street
and were gradually slowing down in preparation of a full stop.

“I
hope so,” she murmured. And then, because she knew Dianna would understand, she
added, “I am afraid of what my mother will think of me.”

“Does
she know where you are going?”

“I
left her a note saying I was safe and that I would return soon.” She did not
mention her hand had trembled with every word she wrote.

Dianna
adjusted the hood of her cloak more firmly around her head, fully disguising
any blond curls that would give her away should she be seen leaving the
carriage. “Your mother will think of you as she always has: that you are an
ungrateful child with no respect for your elders.”

“Please,”
Charlotte said with a startled laugh, “do not spare my feelings.”

“You
do not need your feelings spared, for you know I speak the truth. Lady Bettina
has never understood you, nor you her. Were you not connected by blood I doubt
either of you would ever have reason to speak to the other. Yet you have always
done your best to please her, although heaven knows that has been an impossible
task from the beginning.”

Tabitha
nodded solemnly.

“You
are finally doing something for yourself,” Dianna continued, “and you should
carry no guilt for it.”

In
her heart Charlotte knew what she was doing was right, but her head was another
matter entirely. She was afraid her mother would never forgive her. That she
would sever all ties between them. But she was more afraid of the duke, and it
was that fear that was driving her into Gavin’s arms. “You would have been much
more suited as her daughter, you know.”

“Yes,”
Dianna agreed without hesitation, “I know. Just as my parents would have
understood you far better than they do me.” It was, unfortunately, the truth.
Dianna’s mother and father, both outspoken individuals who cared little for the
rules impressed upon them by society, had always been slightly bewildered by
their only child. They loved Dianna unconditionally, but they never could quite
understand why she was always so well mannered and quiet. As a result Dianna
had been raised by a governess instead of her mother, as Lady Foxcroft was far
too busy supporting her various causes and Lord Foxcroft rarely ventured beyond
his beloved country estate in Hampshire where he tinkered day in and day out
with one invention after another.