Page 65 of The Virgin Duchess

But when he arrived at the drawing room, Magnus was nowhere in sight, and Charlotte looked especially upset.

“Charlotte?” He approached her, reaching out to turn her around by the arm so that she would face him. “What’s wrong? Has the Duke left already?”

Meeting his stare, Frederick could see the irritation and hurt flaring behind Charlotte’s deep brown eyes, and his spine stiffened reflexively. She sagged, dropping her head as she let out a pained breath.

“I’m afraid he has, yes. I…” She had to visibly work to collect herself, and Frederick put his hands on either of her shoulders. “…He was so ridiculous. Magnus came in raving about how Cordelia had refused his financial support now that we were aiding her, and instead of being grateful, he was furious.”

Frederick’s brow furrowed, and he cocked his head, trying to wrap his mind around what his wife was saying.

“Apologies, dearest, but Magnus, what? He was angry with you?”

“He was!” Charlotte was so worked up, the red flush behind her skin not as pretty a sight considering the circumstances ofits arrival. “He complained about how I’d told you of them. Insisted, in none so many words, that I was being foolish for trusting you. And then he threw that at me.”

Looking down at the floor where Charlotte pointed, Frederick saw a balled-up piece of paper discarded on the floor. He stepped away to retreat it while Charlotte began to pace about the drawing room, clearly unable to stand still.

“Magnus was so cruel. Worse, he continued to treat me like I was a child. He had never accepted the fact that I’m a grown woman, and he…ugh, the things he tried to make me believe about you.”

Straightening, Frederick worked to uncrumple the paper. “Me? Why should your brother have anything to say about me at present? I have done nothing to offend him. None that I can think of, and I had thought we finally moved past the discomfort he felt about our nuptials at the party.”

Charlotte stopped, abruptly facing him with her brows up to her hairline. “You knew he did not think positively about our marriage?”

“Well,” Frederick walked up to her, “I could hardly say for certain. But I did have a feeling that he didn’t think fondly about it. The man was terrible at schooling his expression during those first few weeks. He never said anything to me, but I was able to surmise how he likely felt.”

She threw up her hands as Frederick continued to smooth out the paper. “What has gotten into him? I have never seen Magnuslike this before. If anything, he has created enough of a stir for me to be worried overhismental state.”

“Charlotte, I’m sure that…”

But Frederick’s words trailed off as he realized what he was holding. While it had been years, he recognized the name printed on the scandal sheet right alongside his. He’d seen this very “news” report himself when it first appeared in the sheets.

“How…how did you get this?”

He was sure the color had drained from his face. When Charlotte stopped her pacing to look at him once more, he could feel the rising tide of nausea and overwhelm hitting him with the force of a tsunami. She faced him with none of the disgust or fury he expected, however.

“Magnus.” Charlotte shook her head. “He used this silly thing as an attack, looking to make me question you. It’s utterly ridiculous. To think that I’d buy into a scandal sheet.”

Frederick felt everything inside him freeze up, his nerves, muscles, and blood, all stopping with the force of a cannon blast.

“What?”

“I said it’s ridiculous. I don’t believe it for a minute, Frederick.” Charlotte reached out and took his hands. “You don’t have to panic. I know how these things can be fabricated.”

She didn’t believe it. Charlotte didn’t take a word of the scandal sheet as truth because…she had faith in him.

At once, it was impossible to swallow. Frederick felt as if he was falling down a hole endlessly. His skin seemed to be coated in a film of his own making, and that nausea was so much worse.

Charlotte trusted him,believedin him, and she had no reason to. Frederick had allowed himself to be painted as the rake because it suited him, and he had never thought about or cared how people might have judged him as a result. It wasn’t some ease born of innate confidence, either.

Frederick merely knew—profoundly—that he was not worth the care or love bestowed on those who were considered “good” in this world. He had always been a disappointment to his father, his name, and he saw himself so low in an inescapable well, looking down on himself like everyone else in his life seemed to do.

Until Charlotte.

No, no, no. This isn’t right. God, what have I done? I’ve allowed myself to corrupt her, to trick his incredible woman into thinking that I am anything but the man who allowed himself to be seen as a rake. Truth or not, it is who I am.

A rush of heat wafted through him, and Frederick’s head was sent spinning. He could hardly concentrate on the woman before him, his thoughts consumed with the notion that he’d done something so very terrible by marrying her.

Charlotte’s brother was right. Frederick was a rake and a horrid match. He’d seduced Charlotte over the course of several days, taking her to those gardens, and now she had fallen in too deep, believed he was a good, pure human when he was nothing more than a con man.

“It isn’t fabricated.” Frederick’s voice was smaller than it had ever been, and a wash of guilt and shame and terror clouded over his mind. “That woman…she did become a nun after we…”

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