What the Duke Wants (21 page)

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

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

“Not… dreaming.” Carlotta gasped.

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

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

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

The door opened.

Lady Southridge gasped.

Charles swore.

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

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

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

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

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

Hot shame washed through her.

Breathe in, breathe out.

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

Who was she kidding?

Her dignity was gone… just like her pride.

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

“Carlotta,” he murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The quality do not fraternize with the help
.

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

Because it
may
have been different if he loved her.

Even just a little bit.

But attraction and lust were not love.

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

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

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

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

She shivered in desire.

“Yes?” she asked, her plans solidifying.

“What do you say?” he asked.

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

“Carlotta—”

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

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

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

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

“I just need time… please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lady Southridge there’s no need—”

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

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

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

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

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

With a nod, Lady Southridge disappeared into the night.

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The girls!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In the dining room, breaking her fast.”

“Thank you, Tibbs. Please excuse me.”

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

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

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

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