What the Duke Wants(11)

“Clairmont!” Edward Greenly, Earl of Graham walked into the study with the ease of someone familiar with the room. After all, he had been Charles’ chum since their days at Eton. Friend, partner in crime, really it was all the same.

“Graham. What brings you here this wet morning?” Charles grinned at his friend. Graham was the kind of bloke one simply had to smile around. His deep dimples on his face had caused many a woman to swoon. Though he cursed them as a young boy, he now found them supremely helpful when consorting amongst the ton.

His reputation wasn’t nearly as black as Charles’, though he was known for his much quieter exploits. But rather than make him unapproachable, it somehow endeared him even more to the matchmaking mommas of the ton. For that reason, he hadn’t attended an evening party for quite some time, at least not one his sister hadn’t required him to attend. Which was self-preservation in both instances. To abstain meant freedom from the matchmaking and scheming mothers, and attending, when required, allowed him peace from his harridan of a sister. Lady Southridge was a formidable force not to be reckoned with. At twenty years Graham’s senior, she was more of a mother than a sister, especially since both of their parents had perished while he was quite young.

“I’m leaving for Scotland on the morrow and thought I’d stop to say goodbye. It’s come to my attention that my estate is requiring my presence.”

“Ah, the one near Edinburg?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, I wish you well.”

“Of course you do. But in the meantime, can you please tell my sister where I’ll be?”

“No.”

“Please? You know if I tell her I’ll have to attend one final ball before I go and I’m not up to it.”

“Bloody hell you’re not. You’re just wanting to avoid her schemes.”

“Yes. I’m man enough to admit that I’m running away.”

“I fail to see how that amounts to being a man,” Charles retorted sarcastically, earning an unrepentant grin from Graham.

“So you’ll tell her?”

“No. In fact I believe I already said that.”

“I can always send a letter…” Graham mumbled as he sat in a damask chair facing the fire. He rubbed his chin absentmindedly.

“Yes, that will go over nicely. You know she’ll just redouble her efforts to marry you off or, heaven forbid, she’ll follow you to Scotland.”

“Bloody hell, do you think she would?” Graham’s gaze was horror-stricken.

“The better question is, do you think she would?” Charles raised his eyebrows and waited, rocking on his heels.

“Damn.”

“I thought as much.”

“Please Clairmont, you’re my only hope.” Graham stood and faced his friend, his amber colored eyes imploring.

“I’m not your mistress. You can’t beg or charm your way into my good graces.”

Graham sighed heavily.

Charles turned towards the door at the sound of children’s voices. Closing his eyes, he prayed they would cease. He hadn’t told a soul about his position as ward over the girls, or the governess he had employed. The last thing he wanted was to infuse London society with fresh gossip.

“I say Charles, do you have company?”

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty! Here I come!”

“Bloody hell,” Charles swore.

“Clairmont?” Graham asked.

Just then, the door to his study swung open and in ran Berty, frantically looking for a place to hide. She had shut the door and taken two steps before she froze, her eyes wide with surprise, then fear.

“I-I—forgive me, your grace. I-I—”

“Berty.” Charles spoke in a clipped tone. “Would you please abstain from using my study as a hiding place in the future?”

“Y-yes your grace.”

“Thank you. Now—”

“Berty?” Beatrix opened the door and peeked in, searching for her sister. As her gaze met Charles’, the grin she wore faded into a repentant expression full of guilt.

“Hello Beatrix. Your sister is right here.” Charles sighed heavily. All that was left to do was wait for Bethanny. Where was the governess? Wasn’t this why he’d hired her? To keep the girls from interrupting his life? This certainly qualified as an interruption.

“Hello, your grace,” Beatrix mumbled and stood, placing her hands behind her back. Berty scrambled over to her sister, standing slightly behind her as if still afraid.

“I give up! Where are—oh.” Bethanny’s cheeks flushed crimson and she nodded to Charles and Graham. “Your grace, sir. Um, please forgive us for interrupting—”

The sound of the clipping of heels on the marbled hall floor had all three girls glancing to the hall, then to Charles. Three varying degrees of guilt apparent on their faces as they waited for Miss Lottie’s arrival.

Charles simply held his breath. Not only had he withheld himself from the governess’ company since their little game yesterday, but also, he didn’t want Graham to suspect his feelings. Truly, it was turning in to a nightmare of a morning.

“Girls?” Carlotta’s voice was soft, as if she were trying to be as quiet as possible while still calling for her errant charges.