Page 23 of The Virgin Duchess

“We would just love to see you at the estate for the next drum.”

Selina’s voice carried through the shop as she hopelessly flirted with the man who was helping them find a suitable new tablecloth for the upcoming Season. Selina refused to use anything twice, and it was exceedingly likely that her home was filled to the brim with sets of clothes, table covers, and the like that had been used once and then packed away.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, hiding a grin behind her fingers.The entire estate will be worth more in textiles than a mill at this rate.

Turning to Rose, Charlotte offered a sympathetic grin as the young woman stole her eyes away from gawking at Selina. She was clearly taken aback by how much the Dowager carried on with anyone who would let her, spouting coquettish jokes at every turn.

“Does she always carry on like that?” Rose asked, keeping her voice low enough that Selina wouldn’t hear her over the sound of her own speaking.

“Indeed, she does. It has become a bit of a jest between us all, actually. Selina married young to an older gentleman who passed nearly immediately after their wedding. She’s hardly had the encouragement to mature, and I can’t see her doing it now that her future is relatively secure.”

Rose shook her head, her stare dropping to the floor as she considered what Charlotte was saying. After a moment of blissful silence—the day overly stuffed with small talk and gossip for Charlotte’s liking—Selina hurried over to them, intent onleaving the shop to go observe the dresses that had just arrived from France.

Selinalovedall things France.

“All right now, ladies, that is settled. Let us please find our way to the dress shop now. I amdyingto see those fabulous new gowns for the Season.”

Charlotte chuckled lightly, looping her arm through Rose’s as Selina scurried out of the shop and onto the street.

“There’s no point in arguing with her. I’ve found it best to just go along with her. Selina’s whims are strong but fleeting.”

Doing her best to hide her own grin, Rose nodded and followed along after her sister-in-law, the Dowager’s piercing voice ringing out as she spoke without stopping as they walked to the nearby dress shop.

“And did you hear!” Selina stopped suddenly, pulling the two women with her into a tight circle. “The Duchy of Soulden has finally been notified of my husband’s death, and he is on his way to receive his new title as we speak! At last! I have been at my wit’s end trying to get the man to come a pay me a proper visit as his father’s widow.”

Charlotte pulled back, surprised. “Selina, you’ve been waiting some time indeed. I was beginning to think the man wasn’t interested in his title. Have you heard much about him?”

The Dowager shook her head, and despite not being one for gossip, Charlotte couldn’t help but listen with rapt attention—and nor could Rose.

“No, unfortunately, I have not. I have only heard,” Selina dragged out a pause, leaning in so that the women with her couldn’t miss the wide look of intrigue in Selina’s brown eyes, “that he has been gone thisentire timein America. Doing business in some fashion. And apparently, he is quite ruthless at it as well.”

That certainly was news. The returning new Duke of Soulden coming home from America was certainly not an everyday occurrence.

Interesting indeed.

Chapter Eleven

The Season in London was just beginning to pick up, balls and drums and races all lined up and coming in the approaching months. In any usual March, Frederick would be doing his level best to keep his social calendar sparsely filled. He preferred to take in time with Richard or simply enjoy a boxing match.

That would not be the case with a new bride in his estate.

Charlotte had received a letter inviting them to the Season’s opening ball put on by the Marquis of Abercorn, which would be held in their London townhouse. It was set to be an extravagant event, similar to all the others the Marquis and his wife had held. Frederick dreaded the notion of going, but it would give him the opportunity to inquire about the Baron.

I will find that fiend if it’s the last thing I do.

Still, getting dressed for the ball continued to be a tedious waste of his time. Charlotte would not have him looking anything less than his level best, however, and he couldn’t argue with her without giving her cause to question why he would not wish to participate in the ball.

As much as arguing with his wife had become something of a pastime, Frederick loathed the idea of drawing her any closer to the truth of what had gone on between him and the Baron…and Rose.

“Come now, Frederick. Surely you must be ready now? It is unheard of that the lady of the house has finished dressing before the man!”

Charlotte called up the stairs, and as much as it was quite uncivilized to be yelling down the hall at him, Frederick couldn’t stop the smirk that ticked up the corner of his mouth. She truly was quite the character.

He’d been finished dressing for several minutes now, standing in front of his door and working up the strength to reach for the deep bronze knob. Frederick’s stare dropped to the floor as he laid his palm against the cool metal, his mind churning up thoughts that he’d thought he’d left behind.

Thoughts that, of course, revolved around Charlotte—and the way her lips had felt pressed against his own. He hadn’t intended to kiss her. It had been nowhere on his agenda that evening, and yet…There was something about her, the way she challenged him.

Charlotte…

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