Page 18 of The Virgin Duchess

“Of course, mistress.” The man bowed his head, Charlotte scrambling to remember his name. “I shall help you inside. It is right out front.”

The name wouldn’t come to her, not at a time like this. So, she simply nodded with a smile and allowed the man to help her into the carriage so that she could make it across town before it became too late an hour. Charlotte didn’t want to disturb them both if they were resting.

Inside the carriage, Charlotte gave directions to the tiger, and they were off like a shot when she’d expressed the need for extreme haste. Everything moved as quickly as possible, and yet it felt like an arduous, slow crawl.

Please. Please let me make it in time.

Chapter Eight

The cobblestones rocked the carriage, making his head throb. Frederick would be working his way up to a fearsome migraine at this rate. He’d made no progress, absolutely nothing, and every jostle that tossed him into the wall of the interior incited more rage.

“Can youpleaseget me to the estate any quicker!” he called out to the tiger.

“We shall be arriving now, sir!”

Oh, thank God.

Not long after that, Frederick stepped down from the carriage, which was situated farther back from the entrance than usual. Looking around, he noticed that another carriage was sitting just in front of the estate. He’d left it there for Charlotte’s convenience, and this meant that she had not used it yet.

Just as he was about to walk up the stairs, Charlotte rushed down from the front door and practically leaped into the other carriage. She didn’t even notice his own—or him, for that matter—and the tiger there hurried the horses into a gallop.

You don’t do such things unless it is an emergency.

Frederick’s stomach worked itself into knots, and before he could give it much thought, he ducked back inside his own carriage and called out to the driver.

“Follow her!”

There was no hesitation, and his ride was off as quickly as a bolt of lightning. The thumping in his chest matched the beat of the horses’ hooves on the road, and Frederick perched on the edge of his seat.

What had his wife gotten involved with? There had to be a verypressingreason that she tore out of the estate like that. Unbidden, his mind turned to the jest he’d made the other day about the letters. Frederick had insinuated, well accused, Charlotte of having a lover. But now…

Was it possible that he was right? Was she tearing off into the night because her beau required her so ardently? The notion made nausea pool in Frederick’s gut, and he couldn’t quite understand why. He’d hardly gotten involved with Charlotte because of their mutual affection.

A lover? No, it can’t be that. Charlotte was too…inexperienced, too easy to affect with each slight tease and taunt.

The carriage turned right, proceeding down the narrow streets that led farther into London and the less affluent areas at that. It occurred to him as they zipped past building after building that Frederick had promised not to interfere with Charlotte’s dealings. Could this be considered an interference?

“I will remain distant. I shall not approach.”

Frederick nodded to himself. He could hold himself to that. He simply needed to know where she was going. The curiosity, the concern, filled him like the most intoxicating of liquors. Particularly since this outing was being done so late and so suddenly. Charlotte had agreed to their second night together, and this was going against that word.

He had no desire to punish her for it or anything of the sort. Still, it was intriguing that Charlotte was wrapped up in something so thoroughly that it could pull her from her life at a moment’s notice.

After a few more blocks, the neighborhood around him getting far more derelict, Frederick saw Charlotte’s carriage pull to a stop in front of a house. Watching from the window for the entire drive, he ducked low as she hurried out and ran up to the door. There was nothing to go on after that. He didn’t recognize the house, and she didn’t come back out after several minutes.

I…I must. I simply must.

Getting out of the carriage, Frederick approached the door cautiously, looking around him into the shadows for any sign of foul play. While he would never assume that Charlotte was up to something, it was possible to threaten anyone. If her fleeing was the work of the Baron, he would be very put out.

There was nothing.

He steadied himself with a deep breath and then knocked on the door. It took a moment or two for someone to answer, but when the door opened, Frederick was shocked to find an unfamiliar woman in poor health standing on the other side of the threshold.

“Is there something I can do to help you, sir?”

The woman was a bit older, perhaps a few years his senior, and she was flushed as if feverish. There was a gauntness to her features, and while Frederick was undoubtedly not naïve in the ways of the world, it still struck him to see someone living with such meager means.

“Frederick?”

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