What the Duke Wants(60)

“If I’m able. Now, excuse me.”

Rushing to his room, his valet helped him dress in fresh riding breeches and a warmer coat. Losing patience with his slow pace, he ran to the stables and mounted his chestnut stallion that had just been readied and was waiting. The magnificent beast pawed the earth, anxious to be off.

Charles understood the feeling.

Moments later, he was thundering down the lane towards Bath, praying that Lady Whipple was in residence and accepting visitors. He was a desperate man and was not above resorting to desperate measures. But in the interest of time, it would be far more expedient if she simply told him the information he needed to know.


Less than two hours later, he was following the route given by Lady Whipple’s butler to the estate of Garden Gate. It was far closer than he anticipated, only a two hour ride from Bath. By his account, he had only an hour left of travel, which was providential since the sun was beginning to set lower in the western sky. As his horse galloped towards his destination, Charles gave his mind its freedom as well.

A thousand different scenarios flashed through his head as he considered why Mr. Burrows had forced Carlotta’s departure from Greenford Waters.

Was there a sinister side to Lord Darby? One that was hidden? Was Mr. Burrows using her for his own treacherous purposes? Charles felt that scenario quite unlikely, he had known the solicitor for many years, but just how well did he know him? Well enough to trust him? With his money and affairs, yes, with Carlotta? No. Truth was, he wouldn’t trust anyone with Carlotta.

Including himself.

But he was in love with her; that had to make up for his multiple sins in lacking to communicate that affection.

At least he hoped.

By the time he saw the modest estate in the distance, he had worked himself into a lather, both physically and mentally. Without hesitation, he dismounted as his horse skidded to a halt just before the front steps. Taking the stairs three at a time, he didn’t knock, but opened the door and strode in. His heels were loud on the tile floor, but he didn’t care. Let them know he was coming, let them quake in fear and wonder just what avenging force was coming for them.

He heard voices and turned towards the sound, stopping short when he saw Carlotta, smiling.

Laughing really.

What hurt worse was that her smile which filled his veins with fire, and that laugh that stirred his very soul… fell silent as soon as she saw him.

And for the first time since riding out to rescue her, he entertained the miserable thought that perhaps, she didn’t need him after all.

Maybe he just needed her.

Maybe he was the one in need of rescuing.

Damn.





Chapter Thirteen




Carlotta stared. Then blinked. Then stared again. And just for good measure, she blinked again, twice.

He was still there, standing like an avenging angel and appearing like a wild savage with his dark hair windblown and his clear eyes piercing through to her very soul. Even from across the room, she felt his presence. It overwhelmed her senses, blinding them to anything, anyone but him.

She could even smell him.

Why was he here? She knew he wouldn’t have been pleased with her leaving, especially with what had transpired the night before, but… shouldn’t he be grateful that she was now a woman of means? He didn’t have to do the right thing anymore; she was able to care for herself.

Unless he didn’t know that.

But she doubted that Lady Southridge would have kept that information from him. A more meddlesome, but kind, woman she’d never met.

And to think, Charles called her a soul of discretion.

Ha.

“Your grace?” she asked, her gaze fusing with his. Melting into it.

Owning the truth she saw there.

Possession, pure and simple.

He came because, as far as he was concerned, she was his.

It was written all over his expression, in the hunger in his gaze, the power of his stance.

It easily could have made her angry, even offended that he thought she was in such desperate need of saving.

But it didn’t.

Rather, it gave her the most overwhelming desire to hike up her skirts and run into his arms, knowing full well the moment she did, he’d be running towards her as well.

She stood then took a step forward only to be reminded of her guest’s presence by the surprised welcome of Mr. Burrows.

“Your grace. What a surprise!” Mr. Burrows stood as well and walked over to the still quite savage looking duke.

“Mr. Burrows,” he responded politely, but he never moved his gaze from her.

“Clairmont.” Lord Darby stood as well, nodding his hello.

“Darby.” The duke nodded again, still not removing his gaze from Carlotta.

“Would you please excuse us—” Carlotta began to speak, glancing to the other gentlemen it was easy to see the confusion and curiosity in their expressions.

“You left,” the duke interrupted, taking a step forward. His voice captivated her attention and again, the room closed in till all that remained was her awareness of him.

“Yes.” She could have said any number of excuses, but her will to fight left her. It seemed like that’s exactly what she had been doing the entire time she’d known him. Run away. Thousands of reasons, good reasons, to avoid him, keep him at arm’s length and reject even the slightest hope of having him. But with him chasing her to Garden Gate, not caring who saw the heat of his expression that was only for her, it melted her frozen resistance like the spring sun over snow.