What the Duke Wants(15)

“I see. That wasn’t your most brilliant of plans, Miss Lottie.” Charles’ words were light, but his tone was menacing.

“I would think that quite apparent, your grace,” Carlotta replied curtly.

Good. Thought Charles. Let her be upset, let her feel the frustration she’d caused him earlier! He glared at Carlotta.

“Thank you, your grace.” Berty’s unusually quiet voice broke through his vindictive musings.

“Oh, well. Of course…” Charles responded, his brow creasing.

“Yes, thank you, your grace,” Bethanny and Beatrix murmured together, they glanced up then dropped their gazes once more.

At once, the anger burning in Charles’ chest was doused like a fire caught in the rain. Unable to resist baiting his pretty governess, he allowed a mischievous grin to twist his lips. Raising his eyebrows expectantly, he tilted his head as he held her steady gaze, waiting for her gratitude as well.

“Yes. Thank you,” Carlotta obliged him, her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and he fancied that it was more from his expectant behavior and arrogant nature than true gratitude.

“It’s of no matter. We’ll be back shortly and I’ll have Mrs. Pott bring you some hot tea.”

“Thank you, your grace.” Carlotta spoke again, this time her tone was softer, full of gratitude.

Charles turned his gaze back towards her. She offered him a repentant smile then lowered her gaze to her lap, studying her soiled and sodden gloves as she fidgeted.

Her lashes were spiked from the rain, making them darker and fuller against the pale glow of her skin. She worried her lower lip, causing it to bloom in richer color, heightening its allure and plumping it further. Charles bit back a groan at the sight she presented. Surely, she was more alluring in even the most unbecoming of circumstances. Shaking his head, he turned his gaze towards the girls.

Bethanny had been watching him, a curious expression on her face. Her curious gaze shifted from him, to Carlotta, then back, her expression full of questions.

Charles cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the young lady’s awareness. “Bethanny, will you please see to your sisters while I speak with your governess?” He asked, hoping to eliminate any conclusions the girl might draw between himself and the governess.

“Y-yes your grace,” she stammered, her wide eyes darting between him and Carlotta, fear evident in her gaze.

“Thank you.” He nodded then turned to Carlotta.

Her eyes were still downcast, her body slightly trembling. Was she that cold? At once Charles was concerned. After all, he didn’t want to be bothered with finding a new governess.

Though he’d never been bothered with finding one in the first place.

However, he refused to dwell on that lie and rather accept it as truth. Denial being simpler and all that.

They arrived at his town residence and after a footman opened the door, they exited. Charles waited until the ladies had stepped out before he did so himself. He straightened his greatcoat, and bounded up the steps, entering into the warmth of his home. Bethanny and the two younger girls paused then made their way to their rooms.

“Girls! I was so worried! Let’s get you dried off and I’ll have some hot tea and biscuits for you. Come along.” Mrs. Pott appeared from down the hall and ushered the girls along like an old hen with her chicks.

Charles couldn’t help a small grin at the sight.

“Your grace?” Carlotta’s soft query reminded him that he had intended to speak with her.

“Follow me.” He didn’t turn but strode to his study. The clicking of her heels on the marble hall floor notified him that she was indeed following behind. He opened the thick wooden door and waited for her to enter the study. Squaring his shoulders, he followed, closing it firmly behind him.

He saw her glance to the closed door then back to him, her eyes slightly panicked, though to her credit, she didn’t say a word.

Charles didn’t know if that meant she was afraid or if she thought he was a threat to her reputation. Neither idea sat well with him.

“Miss Lottie, I’m sure you’re aware of why we are having this conversation,” he began as he made his way to the crackling fire.

“Yes, your grace. My sincerest apologies. I’ll simply pack and be—”

“Pack? What ever for?” Charles turned, scowling.

“Am I not dismissed?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Charles took a moment to study her. Her dress was soaked, as was her pelisse. Her gloves were ruined and the once tidy, if not far too strict, bun on the nape of her neck was dripping. In fact, between her hair and clothes, a puddle had begun to form at her feet.

“Bloody hell,” Charles cursed, earning a gasp from Carlotta. Oh well, let her feminine sensibilities be offended. He wasn’t the least bit repentant. Angry at himself for not noticing her soaked state, he glanced about for a blanket or something to aid her. What was she thinking? Not asking for a moment to refresh herself! Though he doubted she felt the freedom to ask such a thing, he still wished she would have!

“Here.” Charles shrugged out of his greatcoat, at a loss for finding anything else.

Carlotta’s eyes widened, but she obeyed and slipped her arms into the coat as he held it out for her.

He pulled it over her shoulders, settling it. Tugging on the lapels, he tugged her forward and towards the fire. As he did, he felt how her body was shivering and saw the telltale trembling of her jaw. But not once did she complain.