What the Duke Wants(26)

He’d fallen for that trap too many times, trying to fill the silence with an overplay of the story that was certainly fabricated in order to alleviate himself or Graham from responsibility or punishment. Usually both. Graham had learned the same lesson.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Lady Southridge commented, her eyes narrowing while she studied him.

“Not much to say,” Charles said, rocking on his heels.

“So when will you see the girls again?” Lady Southridge asked after a moment.

“I’m not quite sure. I hadn’t planned on seeing them at all, actually.”

“Charles! I’m disappointed in you! Surely, you were planning on seeing them shortly! These girls have no one save a governess and you’re their only family.”


“I’m sure Miss Lottie will take good care of them.”

“A governess is not a replacement for a guardian,” she shot back.

“Carlotta is perfectly able to—”

“Carlotta is it? My, my your quite familiar with that old crone of a governess.” Lady Southridge’s tone was overly pleased, like a cat sipping cream.

“She’s not an old crone! Miss Carlotta came on highest praise and the girls adore her. It’s simple as that.” Charles continued to watch the fire, unwilling to turn around lest Lady Southridge read his emotions all too clearly.

Of course, that didn’t stop her from rising and coming to stand beside him.

Bloody Hell.

“I think…” she began as she studied his face, “that next week we should go and visit your wards.”

“Excuse me?” Charles felt his eyes grow wide from both fear and hope. Fear because Lady Southridge used the word we, and anticipation because more than anything he wanted to see Carlotta. Just see her.

Not kiss her.

See. Her. Only.

“Yes. I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

“You would,” Charles muttered.

“I heard that,” Lady Southridge whispered.

“Of course you did. What about Lord Southridge? He’d not want you—”

“Pish and tosh! Of course he wouldn’t mind! He’s visiting Bristol that week anyway, I’d be closer to him in Bath than if I were to stay in London.”

“But—”

“You’re not going to get out of this Charles. Neither you nor Graham seem inclined to get married and produce an heir, therefore you both must be blamed for causing me to resort to adopting your wards. They’ll need a sponsor once they debut and I’m the best they can get. Lord knows I’ve earned the right to spoil three girls after putting up with you and Graham all these years. You honestly seek to deny me that?” She speared him with a daring gaze.

“No.” Because what else could he say?

“Delightful! I’ll make arrangements to leave for Bath in a week’s time.” She nodded and strode to the door.

“Of course,” Charles responded tightly as he bowed.

“And Charles?”

“Yes?”

“Please attend me in three day’s time at the Worthing ball. Lord Southridge is unable to attend and I need an escort.”

“A delight, my lady.” He responded with a clenched jaw, trying to be cordial when all he wanted was for the blasted woman to leave.

“Of course it is.” Her delicate eyebrow lifted in mirth as her green eyes danced.

She let herself out of the study, and Charles collapsed on a nearby chair, puffing out a great sigh. Lady Southridge was a force not to be reckoned with. Graham owed him. Owed him well.

But he couldn’t deny a swell of joy and anticipation in the prospect of seeing Carlotta in a week’s time. He tried to tell himself that he wouldn’t count the days… but he knew he would.

Now if he could only think of a way to get out of attending the Worthing ball.

****

Charles studied the whirling dancers in the middle of the ballroom at the Worthing ball three days later. He swirled the warm champagne in his glass and tried to not appear as bored as he was. He had already danced with Lady Worthing then retreated to one of the gaming rooms. That had proved tedious after a while, so he went to the edge of the ballroom and watched.

The debutantes were all in a pale green that seemed to be all the rage this season. He studiously avoided the corner where the dowagers and matchmaking mommas were in conspiracy against his fellow men. There was no way he’d walk into that dragon’s lair, but that didn’t stop them from sending him calculating glances or from sending their daughters from parading in front of him on the way to the refreshment table.

Never mind the refreshment table was on the other side of the ballroom.

“Your grace.” A velvety voice spoke just to his left. Without turning, he knew to whom the voice belonged. Lady Beckham was a merry widow who was known for her expensive taste and perusal of men.

“Lady Beckham. How are you this evening?” Charles spoke in his most seductive tone simply out of habit. He wasn’t looking for company that night, but that was a recent occurrence. His taste for the superficial had ended when he got a sampling of something much richer.

Of course, he had sent that temptation away to Bath… but that didn’t change the tone of his appetite.

“I’m doing marvelous. What a crush,” she said making light conversation.