What the Duke Wants(40)

“Oh.” Lady Southridge’s voice grated on his last fraying nerve.

He had just bared his bloody wretched and blasted —and any other apprehensible adjectives relevant— soul to the miserable woman and all she could say was “oh”?

All he wanted was a never-ending decanter of brandy and to forget today existed.

Ever.

Ever. Ever.

Expect for that kiss.

That he wished to remember… simply nothing else of the mess that followed.

“Charles?” Lady Southridge’s voice pulled him from the pool of self-pity in which he was currently swimming.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice muffled by his hands as they still held his head.

“You are an idiot.”

“Your support is overwhelming. As each moment passes I’m increasingly thankful I brought you along,” he replied toneless.

“You should be thankful I’m here to fix the miserable mess you call your life. To think, you, a rake. Ha! I laugh at such outrageous claims. You, sir, have no clue about women or love or anything beyond what takes place between the sheets.” She tsked her tongue.

“I do believe your language was not becoming of a lady,” he said dryly.

“I do believe that your behavior is abhorrent. However, there is hope for you still.”

“I’m glad someone is of that conviction. I, myself, am contemplating other options.”

“Never can expect brilliance from a duke.”

“I have no response to that statement in my current state, but I will think of an excellent reply which I will unleash and fillet you with later.” Charles glanced up at her, a scowl firmly in place.

“My heart quivers.” She put her hand up to her forehead, mockingly. “So… the almighty Duke of Clairmont has fallen. I do believe it is a time for miracles to abound. And before you make any more snide comments—” She held up a hand as he made to open his mouth. “—while she is a governess… I have reason to believe that she is not just a governess. I made a few inquiries while we were in London. What I can’t believe is that you did so little research into her background.”


“She came to us on excellent recommendation,” Charles defended.

“Yes, from her solicitor, Mr. Burrows.”

“No, my solicitor.”

“Her’s as well. How do you think she knew of the opening so quickly?”

Actually, he had never thought that deeply about the subject.

“Why in the world would Carlotta have a solicitor?”

“Why indeed?” Lady Southridge raised an eyebrow.

“You obviously have some knowledge of which I’m not aware of… yet. Are you inclined to share or must I be left in suspense?”

“I’m considering suspense, but I’m going to take pity on you.”

“I do appreciate being pitied.”

She gave him a withering glare.

“I have a question that is a prerequisite for my discloser of information.”

“Delightful.”

“I want to meet her first.”

“That’s not a question. Regardless, the answer is no.”

“Then I’ll keep my information.”

“Damn it.”

“Such language!”

“We both know you are not shocked. Don’t pretend that I offended your delicate sensibilities. We both know those do not exist either.”

“You are in fine form,” she remarked none too gently.

“You have provoked me to that place, Madam,”

“Please. I wish to meet her.” Her tone was quiet, pleading.

And completely out of character.

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“In the light of such persuasive argument, I must reconsider,” he replied dryly.

“Charles, you cannot imagine how long I have waited and hoped against all odds that you might be capable of love.”

“Your faith in me is humbling.”

“If you had seen your life from my perspective, I don’t think you’d come to any different of a conclusion. But now I find myself realizing that hope, that there truly is a woman able to ensnare your attention to the point of idiotic behavior that is vastly unlike you under normal circumstances. Based on what I know of her, she is unlikely to be a fortune hunter. If she is a governess, she’d be well aware that her chances of attracting the matrimonial attitude of a man of quality are slim. Especially that of a duke. And if she were trying to trap you, I’m quite sure you’d smell that plan a mile away. After all, you have been fighting off those type of women since the cradle.”

“Carlotta is not a fortune hunter. She doesn’t…” He trailed off, not sure if he wanted to disclose his intimate knowledge with Lady Southridge.

“She doesn’t… what, Charles?” She waited patiently, her expression open but Charles knew the curiosity was likely eating her alive.

“It’s of no import.”

“I find that difficult to swallow. The truth, if you please.” She held out her hand magnanimously.

“I swear, this, this emotional upheaval is why men pity others of our sex who have fallen in love. Never have I had so much need for brandy in all my life.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the back cushion.