What the Duke Wants (22 page)

“Good morning, girls. I trust you slept well?” Carlotta asked as she rounded the table and caressed Berty’s cheek, smoothed Beatrix’s hair and squeezed Bethanny’s shoulder in succession.

“Yes, quite well,” Beatrix spoke softly, the quietest of the three sisters.

“I’m thankful to hear it. Have you by chance seen Lady Southridge?”

“No, the dining room was empty when we arrived. I haven’t seen her all morning,” Bethanny answered, her expression curious.

“Oh, I need to speak with her.”

“Is something the matter?” Berty asked.

“Yes, no, well, I’m going to be gone for a few days.” Carlotta sat down across from the girls, wanting to be as honest as possible. They deserved as much. “It would seem that an investment my father made, has made a change in my financial position—”

“You’re going to not be our governess anymore?” Beatrix burst out, her expression horrorstricken.

“What?” Berty shouted, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Yes, I’m still your governess. I’m not saying
that
kind of goodbye, I’m just needed to address some matters.”

“Oh, you’ll be back though?” Bethanny asked her eyes wide with concern.

“Yes. I’ll be back.”

The girls visibly relaxed at her reaffirmation. “I do need to find Lady Southridge, however. I’ll come and say goodbye before I finally depart.”

“Very well.” The girls spoke hesitatingly, their eyes wary despite her reassurance.

Carlotta quit the room and began to search for Lady Southridge.

And found her speaking with Mr. Burrows.

Never had she been so thankful for client confidentiality.

“Lady Southridge.” Carlotta curtseyed. “I have a matter to discuss with you, if you have a moment?”

“Of course.” Lady Southridge eyed Mr. Burrows worriedly and turned to Carlotta.

“It would seem that an investment my late father made in the Caribbean, has changed my situation. Mr. Burrows wishes for me to accompany him to my estate, Garden Gate, to finalize the particulars. To do this, I’ll be needing a few days off from my responsibilities.”

“I see.” Lady Southridge appeared worried.

“I’ll be returning, my lady.” Carlotta felt compelled to add.

“Oh, I’m sure, I meant I never mean to imply that you’d disregard—” She eyed Mr. Burrows. “—the girls.” She cleared her throat, and shot a very direct gaze to Carlotta.

Because she didn’t mean the girls as much as she meant the duke.

She was not to disregard
the duke
.

“I wouldn’t disappoint the girls in such a way.” Carlotta glanced to the ground, not able to meet her implication with the affirmation she sought.

“You
will
return.” Lady Southridge spoke in a clear authoritative voice.

“Yes, my lady.”

“And I’m assuming you’re asking my permission since his grace is strangely absent?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. I’ll expect you to be back
within three day
’s time, however.”

“Very good, Lady Southridge. I’m sure I’ll be back by then, if not before.”

Lady Southridge took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing slightly before she turned and excused herself form Mr. Burrows and Carlotta.

“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Burrows, I’ll gather my things.”

Nodding he strode to the fire and waited.

****

Less than an hour later Carlotta sought out the girls. After whispering goodbyes amidst hugs and far more tears than she cared to admit, she walked down the hall to where Mr. Burrows waited.

“It is clear you’ve grown quite fond of your charges,” Mr. Burrows commented, his eyes compassionate.

“I have, indeed.” Carlotta sniffed delicately.

“Garden Gate is not far. With such a maternal instinct, I hope I’m not being too forward in stating that perhaps you should seriously consider the Viscount’s offer of marriage. Surely a woman such as yourself with a remarkably tender disposition should have children of her own.” He led them down the stairs.

His words hit their mark, but not in the way he likely would have assumed. Carlotta immediately imagined little fat babies… with summer sky blue eyes and thick patches of dark hair, wide lips and mischievous grins remarkably like their father’s.

The very children she could never bear.

But ached for regardless.

“I’m not offended, Mr. Burrows. Thank you for your kind insight,” she responded.

“I hired a maid from Bath, she’ll attend you in case there isn’t one available at Garden Gate. I hope that’s acceptable?”

He helped Carlotta into the carriage then entered as well. “Thank you, I hadn’t considered that.”

“You’re a very wealthy young lady, the daughter of a baron. Your station requires far more propriety than that of a governess.” He shrugged.

Immediately they set towards Garden Gate, a war waging within Carlotta. Not three months ago, she was lamenting leaving her precious home, certain her heart would remain in the halls of Garden Gate without her. Yet, now, the further she traveled from Greenford Waters, the fainter her heartbeat sounded to her own ears.

Her heart had found a new home. And while she struggled to convince herself that it was because of her fierce attachment to the girls… she knew the truth. No matter how she fought it, tried to forget it and insisted against it, her heart was held by none other than the Duke of Clairmont.

The very man whom she could never have.

Chapter Twelve

“Lady Southridge! Damn it all where are you?” Charles shouted from the hall, his tone menacing and impatient.

“Charles what is the matter and why, in heaven’s name, are you bellowing?” Lady Southridge emerged from the library, her expression irritated.

“You! The only thing preventing me from strangling your meddlesome neck is the fact that you have information I need, and if I killed you, I’d never know it. I ask you, where. Is. Carlotta?” He spoke through clenched teeth. He felt like a wild animal barely under control.

That morning he had left at first light to ride and obtain a special license. It had taken him longer than he anticipated due to a miserable rainstorm that halted his progress on the way home. Expecting to sweep Carlotta away at the first opportunity he was shocked, and quite crushed to realize that the very woman he was intending to sweep away, was not in residence.

Betrayal, hurt and anger all fought for dominion in his heart… until he found a target— Lady Southridge. Poor Tibbs had wisely taken a few steps back from the duke when he explained the situation, and who had granted the permission for her to leave.

Truly, he had never been more tempted to commit murder in his life. What had those daft women been thinking? He had been very clear about his intentions with Carlotta. And why in the bloody hell did Lady Southridge let her go?

“Carlotta will be back in a few days, Charles. Settle down. You look positively wild. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, you know.”

Not
the thing to say.

He took a very deliberate step towards her, unblinking he stared hard into her eyes. “I dare you to repeat that.”

Lady Southridge took a step back.

Perhaps the woman had some sense after all.

“Charles, she was with her solicitor, Mr. Burrows. Didn’t Tibbs tell you? I’m assuming you know that much since he said I had given her permission.” She glanced up as if exasperated.

She had no idea what exasperated truly felt like.

“Yes, I heard about the bloody investment making a bloody return and giving her back her bloody financial independence and her going to settle everything at her bloody estate. What I want to know is why you couldn’t have her wait for me? I was obtaining a
special license
… Am I making myself quite clear?”

“I—I wasn’t aware you had an understanding.”

“Yes, well…”

“When I spoke with her last night she didn’t imply…” She trailed off as if catching herself. Her eyes widened.

“You did
what?
When? When did you speak to her?” Charles took another step forward.

“I—I, well, I felt responsible.”

“In what way could you have possibly shouldered any blame for—” He began to roll his eyes.

“I told you to compromise her.”

“Dear Lord.” He felt his face drain of blood. “You didn’t…” He couldn’t even think of a damning enough swear word to describe the wretchedness of the situation.

“I—er… well I said that I felt responsible because I didn’t think you’d actually
do it,
and I said that since she left with her virtue intact, she should consider how much self-control you were exhibiting… oh bother… it sounds quite miserable when I re-tell it. But I swear it was quite eloquent last night.”

“Bloody brilliant damning hell.”

“That was quite a list.”

“It’s not remotely long enough.” He wiped his face with his hands. “This is a disaster. I have no words. I… I don’t even know what to say.” He walked away. Of all the wretched things! No wonder she ran away as soon as possible! Hell,
he’d
have ran away from himself if the tables were turned.

“But if you have an understanding, I mean you are engaged, aren’t you?” Lady Southridge was wringing her hands, trying to grasp at straws that would make the bleak and miserable situation somehow have a silver lining.

There was no silver lining.

Black. The horizon was black.

Especially since he actually never
asked
her… simply
told
her that they’d marry.

“You’re not answering,” Lady Southridge whispered.

“No. I’m not.” Charles stared straight ahead, seeing nothing.

“There’s no understanding, is there?” Lady Southridge whispered even softer.

“I’m not sure. I rather told her about my plans to obtain a special license rather than ask for her hand.”

“But… you said you loved her… right?”

“No.”

“What
did
you do?” Lady Southridge’s voice rose in volume. Charles turned towards her and saw her hands firmly on her hips, her lips in a grim line.

“I kissed her quite senseless.” He was seriously wondering if it could get worse.

“Men!” Lady Southridge threw her hands up in the air and walked a few steps away, then paused.

“Berty, dear, this isn’t the time,” she spoke softly to the young girl, her tone kind.

“Your grace, I heard something and Bethanny said I should tell you.”

“Oh? What did you hear Berty?” Charles tried to calm himself and pay attention to the little sprite of a girl.

“I followed Miss Lottie, but she didn’t see me. Just as her and that wretched man who took her away were about to walk outside, he said… well… it sounded like a viscount was meeting them at her home, to marry her.” Berty glanced down, her eyes brimming with tears. “She’ll never come back, will she your grace?” Berty burst into a sob, throwing herself at Lady Southridge’s legs and burying her face in her skirts.

“There, there child. I’m sure she’ll be back. She never said anything to me—”

“Why in the hell
would
she tell you?” Charles spoke darkly. Of course, things could get worse, why had he even asked?

“Because, I don’t know. I—Berty? Did you happen to hear the viscount’s name?” Lady Southridge asked as she smoothed her hair away from her cherub-like face.

“Banby? Darby? Something like that,” Berty replied, her words muffled by the skirts.

“Darby?” he asked. Recalling the man associated with the title, Charles felt his blood run cold. Darby was from an old titled family, had more than enough wealth, a sterling reputation and was all around respectable. The blasted man was even decent to look at, or so he was told. In all truth, he was perfect for Carlotta.

More honestly, he was everything that Charles was not, at least in the character department. Oh, he knew he had enough wealth and his title alone would recommend him, but character? He was severely lacking, that and self-control, and the ability to ask the woman he loved to marry him.

Yes, that sin was at the top of his list right now.

“Thank you, Berty. Can you please tell your sisters I’d like to speak with them?” Berty glanced up with shining eyes.

“Yes, Lady Southridge.” She scampered off to find her sisters and Charles watched her, his soul completely hopeless.

Just last night he was on top of the world, he didn’t even sleep but left at first light to secure a special license so that he could marry her before she had a chance to escape.

Apparently, she had a chance to escape and took it.

“This is an unforeseen road block.” Lady Southridge tapped her chin.

“Road block? This is a bloody massacre.”

“It’s not as if she’s married Darby already.”

“But she should.”

“What?”

“She should. He’d be perfect for her.”

“But—”

“But I’m not… perfect for her. I can’t even remember to say I love you when it’s needed most. I fail at simple communication.”

“But you feel it?”

“Like Zeus’ lightning bolts every time I see her.”

“Then why give up?”

“I—

“Your grace?” Bethanny asked, her soft voice tentative as she approached with her sisters.

“Yes, Bethanny.” He sighed, numb.

She glanced to her sister, Beatrix, then turned back to him, her eyes wide. “You have to go after her, your grace. I… I think she might be in danger.”

“Danger?” Charles echoed; he fought between fear and disbelief. Mr. Burrows was anything but dangerous. “How so?”

“She was quite distressed, she was… crying.”

“Crying?” he asked, his eyes widening.”

“Yes.” Bethanny nodded vigorously. “She was sobbing really, and that man, Mr. Burrows? He said something about her being too attached to us and… I’m not sure but it looked like he forced her into the carriage.”

“He did
what?
” Charles felt his blood boil. Could it be? Was there perhaps hope? Not that he wanted her forcibly taken from his home, but maybe she didn’t actually want to leave in the first place!

“So you see, you simply
have
to go after her, your grace. What if something horrible happens?” Bethanny was waving her hands about, her eyes wide with fear.