What the Duke Wants (23 page)

“Lady Southridge, you say here at Greenford Waters. If Car—Miss Lottie returns before I do, keep her here. Am I understood?” He leveled his most stern gaze at the woman.

“Yes, we’ll tie her up if need be.”

“I doubt that will be necessary… but if it is, do it,” Charles amended.

“Tibbs! Get over here man!” he bellowed down the hall. Tibbs rushed forward. “I need my horse ready immediately!” he shouted to the frenzied butler.

“Yes, your grace.” Tibbs bowed then ran.

Ran.

“Charles, you don’t know where Garden Gate is!” Lady Southridge called after him as he rushed down the hall.

“No, but I can ask. Surely, someone in Bath will know. I’ll ask Lord Whipple’s wife, she knows everyone around these parts.”

“Very well, please… send word as soon as you know something.”

“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.

And like that, her heart melted, as well as all of her excuses.

“Why… no. I can answer that question and the blame lies at my own feet.” He shook his head slightly, his expression changing from the fierce passion of ownership of her very heart, to one of self-derision.

Carlotta ached for the pain apparent in his expression. Pain that she had caused in her efforts to protect her heart.

But what about his heart?

Who had been protecting it? For the first time she looked at the opposite side of things, much like Lady Southridge had explained last night. As if looking in a mirror, the entire view changed, righted itself and Carlotta realized just how much of a fool she had been.

But no longer.

When she had seen his reputation, he had been protecting hers by removing her from his gasp.

When she saw his title, he had lowered himself to love a servant.

When she questioned his honor in kissing her, he blamed himself for being so weak.

When she saw him compromising her to force her hand, he used the self-control of a saint, everything his very reputation testified against, and preserved her virtue even when she wasn’t inclined to being virtuous.

“I never asked, I never said the right words. For one being known for saying all the
right
things, I’m pitifully miserable at speaking them to you. Carlotta, Lottie,
my
Lottie. I love you.” Holding his hands out he waited, a man facing his uncertain destiny.

A destiny he had given her complete control over.

“I left this morning to get a special license for an occasion I failed to invite you to attend. You see…” He took another step forward, his gaze growing in determination, in resolve. “I seemed to forget to ask you a very important question last night.” Another step forward, yet it felt like he was walking through the door to her heart, not knocking but simply walking through the door as if it never had existed in the first place.

And maybe it never had. Maybe… maybe he held the key all along and she never stopped resisting his love long enough to think of the possibility.

“Yes?” she felt herself ask. Her heart began to gallop within her, causing her body to tremble with a hope she never dreamed to unleash.

He glanced down and stepped around a settee, each step full of purpose… full of promise. “You have the impertinent habit of robbing me of all rational thought and I’ve never been as thoroughly overjoyed with a surprise as I was last night. I feel compelled to apologize for not asking you sooner, for being lost in the moment, as it were, and neglecting to speak my heart rather than simply acting on it. Carlotta, I’d ask you to marry me, but really, I’m quite accustomed to getting what I want. And if you refuse me, I’m warning you that I will likely create a scene. So rather, I’m asking you to take pity on me, and save me from my wretched self and marry me. Not because I deserve you, not because I’m a duke, or because I’m wealthy, but because I know that if you met me and I was penniless, you’d love me the same. Like you love me now, but won’t admit.”

“Create a scene?” she couldn’t help but ask. A smile stretched across her face at the idea of the infamous, notoriously sinful Duke of Clairmont hanging propriety for the love of a governess. It was the stuff romantic dreams were made of.

Her romantic dreams.

That had somehow made it out of her dreams and into her real life.

“I’ll simply have to compromise you. Believe me I have very credible witnesses.” He gave a daring smile and mischievous nod to the gentlemen in the room.

“See here! There’s no call to treat the lady in such a way!” Lord Darby’s voice interrupted her sweet interlude, her secret satisfaction at the duke’s willingness to create
that much
of a scene.

Never had she ever considered compromising so… romantic.

“Please, my lord.” She held up her hand, sparing him only a slight glance before turning back to the duke. His eyes glowed with victory, a bright triumph shining from his expression. It was fierce and passionate, possessive and wild, full of love.

Love for her.

“Surely you can’t stand by and allow—”

“Actually, Lord Darby, though his grace’s reputation suggests otherwise, I have it on good authority that his intentions are quite noble, and have been for quite some time,” Mr. Burrows commented.

“Carlotta?” the duke whispered her name.

Closing her eyes, she let the sound wash over her, owning the sound of his voice.

Tears pricked in her eyes as she considered just how close she had come to losing him.

“You’re taking too damn long,” he swore, his tone causing her eyes to flutter open only to find him striding towards her quite purposefully. A moment later he was crushing her to him, drinking in the passion of her kiss, demanding she surrender.

Which she willingly gave, with every last piece of her heart. Pressing into him she disregarded every warning she ever heard about acting like a lady and
owned
him with her kiss. As if tasting her answer, he deepened the exchange, his arms wrapping around her till every line of his was flush with hers, warming her, setting her on fire.

Gasping he broke the kiss. Hovering just a breath away from her lips. “Consider yourself properly compromised, Carlotta,” he whispered.

“Indeed. Does your offer to make me an honest woman still stand? I seem to find myself in need of redemption,” she murmured back, her cheeks flushed with her forward manner, but not repentant in the least for her actions, brazen as they were.

“No, the redeeming will be you’re doing, not mine. I, however, will indeed save your surely blackened reputation. Even black knights sometimes ride white horses, my love.”

Rather than answer, she lifted herself up on her tiptoes and placed a warm kiss to the edge of his jaw. “Then it is a very good thing you obtained a special license, your grace.”

“You have no idea,” he groaned and pulled her into a tight embrace, his nose burying in her hair, his warm breath tickling her scalp as he inhaled deeply.

“If I may be so bold?” Mr. Burrows interrupted.

The duke loosened his grip only slightly, turning he faced his solicitor, pulling Carlotta with him. It was as if he was afraid to let go.

She knew the feeling.

“Since I have all Miss Standhope’s signatures, I’ll simply await your notification after the wedding, your grace, to finalize a settlement on your new wife. I’ll now take my leave. He bowed then turned to Lord Darby. “My Lord, thank you for your willingness to assist.”

“Assist?” the duke asked.

“Yes… it would seem that you have quite a few friends who wish to secure your happiness. I’ll let your wards explain the rest. Good-day.”

Both gentlemen quit the room, leaving Carlotta quite alone with the duke.

Though she shouldn’t be quite surprised.

She was a ruined woman after all.

“The girls?” she turned to the duke.

Charles narrowed his eyes slightly, as he stared at the wall. His expression was one of deep thought. “Were you… you weren’t forcibly taken from Greenford Waters, were you?”

Carlotta shook her head, confusion fogging her mind.

“And you weren’t planning on marrying Darby.”

At this, she blushed and glanced away.

“Bloody hell.”

“I wasn’t going to marry him… I was simply offered the option.” Shrugging her shoulders, she bit her lip.

“I think… that those three girls are possibly more meddlesome than Lady Southridge.” He smirked, his expression humbled yet elated all at once.

“How so?”

“Oh, they put on quite the performance. Tears and all. Though I can’t find it in my heart to be angry with them. After all, the outcome was quite perfect.” He smiled down at her.