What the Duke Wants(32)

Of course, a few months later he realized why she had appeared so weak. As he sat through her funeral service he wondered why he hadn’t asked her about her health when he had the chance. But he was thinking of his father, of himself, not of her. And pneumonia claimed her with silent precision.

“Your grace?”

Charles startled slightly, glancing to his butler but not seeing him for a moment as his memories faded from the room and reality caught up with him once more.

“What is it, Tibbs?” he asked, his voice sounding overly weary to his own ears.

“You asked to be informed when the young wards and their governess arrived from their walk. They have just come in, your grace. And as you requested, they are not aware of your presence.” Tibbs nodded obediently.

“Very good. See that I am the one to speak to them first, not, Lady Southridge.”

“As you say, your grace.” Tibbs bowed and turned to leave.

“Wait. On second thought, would you please bring Miss Lot—er, Carlotta to me, I wish to speak with her in private before the introductions begin.

Tibbs nodded then left.

Charles paced the study. A thousand thoughts filled his head, tempered by a few precious memories that set his blood to roaring. It was madness, to feel as he felt, after only such a short time. But it was there nonetheless. Perhaps it was just a passing fancy, he justified. There really was no reason for him to form such a strong attachment to the young governess in such short order. Perhaps all his emotional turmoil was for not. Could it be that in the amount of time passed, his attraction had cooled and he’d now not be as affected? He could only hope.

The sound of light footsteps reached his ears a moment before a knock came at the door.

“Come,” Charles called, his eyes already searching for her face.

Tibbs entered followed by the source of Charles’ sleepless nights; Carlotta, siren from his waking dreams.

It was too much to ask to be unaffected. It was too much to ask to even be as affected by her beauty as he was in the past.

No. All it took was one glance, one sweeping gaze from the soft golden curls on the top of her head to the slight peek of her slipped foot from her frock for him to lose all train of thought.

He hadn’t even made eye contact yet.

Damn.

No, for everything he had hoped that time would dull the attraction, he had been deathly wrong.

For if anything, it had increased tenfold and as her clear green eyes searched his, it was all Charles could do to simply keep the fire ignited within him at bay.





Chapter Eight




“Your grace?” Carlotta asked, not quite believing her eyes. When Tibbs had requested her, he hadn’t mentioned that the duke was in residence.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t mentioned that the duke was coming to Greenford Waters at all.

Damn.

She felt her eyes widen as her cheeks blushed vermillion at her shock over her own thoughts. As if she spoke them out loud, she wished to cover her mouth and retreat, humiliated. Never before had she sworn, yet the duke seemed to provoke uncharacteristic reactions from her.

She should not be so surprised since he was the cause for various other reactions she hadn’t previously experienced.

Staring at the deep furrow in his brow, she wondered if maybe she had spoken the curse aloud.

“Miss Carlotta.” He nodded seriously, his expression shuttered and cool. As if a gaze could change the very temperature, she stifled a shiver. Already her heart was hammering in her chest, her lips tingling with the reminder that once, not so long ago, his had caressed them. Forcing her thoughts into submission, she took a step forward and curtseyed.

“That will be all Tibbs.” The dear butler nodded but cast a wary glance to her as he retreated, leaving the door still open enough for propriety’s sake.

“How are you and my wards adjusting to the country?” his grace asked with all the emotional attachment of a man inquiring about the weather.

“The adjustment has been minimal, your grace,” Carlotta answered, the fact that he had simply called the girls his ‘wards’ chafing against her. They deserved more than that. They did have names after all. But she supposed that was the way of it in his social circles. He was their benefactor, their protector so to say; emotional attachment wasn’t a requirement.

“And you? How are you adjusting?” he asked. For but a moment his expression slipped to give her an insight into the simmering beneath the cool waters of his gaze, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was closed off.

“Well, your grace. Bath is quite close to where I was raised, so I find myself very much at ease here.”

“I was not aware that you were from Bath.” He seemed shocked that he hadn’t been aware of that fact.

“Not Bath exactly, I was raised a few miles north, closer to the sea.”

“Ah, do you have family? I could arrange for you—” He stopped his offer mid-sentence as she shook her head. “I see. My apologies if I have mentioned something to risk offending you.” He bowed his head tenderly, completely confusing her from his earlier detached demeanor.

The man had more mood shifts than a play had scenes!

“It is of no consequence, your grace,” Carlotta said, hoping to put the subject to rest. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss her history.