Page 72 of The Virgin Duchess

“George,” she cut it, getting the man’s attention, “I need to speak with you.”

He eyed Dorthea with no small amount of disdain but then left their conversation to join Charlotte and Rose, where they stood along the far wall of the kitchen.

“How can I be of service, Your Grace?”

“The Duke. He asked you for something before he left. What was it?”

George blanched, his mouth dropping slightly. He backpedaled, seeking to put space between them, and Rose stepped behind him, blocking his escape—not that Charlotte believed he wished to run from them, but only the discomfort of the situation.

“Your Grace, I had that conversation in confidence with the Duke. I do not wish to draw his ire for revealing what he had deemed a private matter.”

Charlotte was getting rather sick of how everyone around her—save from Rose, of course—seemed to be willing to endanger the Duke for some blasted secret. It was utterly absurd. They had no place in this estate, and as soon as all this was resolved, Charlotte was going to have a good, long conversation with Frederick about the nature of secrets and how destructive they could be.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Charlotte glared at George, jabbing a finger in his chest.

“You will tell me what you gave my husband, or so help me.” The man’s eyes shot wide under her intensity. “He is in danger of doing something horrendously imbecilic, and I will put a stop to it. Understood?”

The butler swallowed down the lump in his throat, nodding his head in a constant bob.

“Yes, Your Grace, of course. I was ordered to fetch the Duke his father’s pistol. He brought it with him in the carriage, but I do not know where it took him.”

Dread forced Charlotte’s mouth to drop open, but thankfully, Rose was there to circle around the butler and stand in front of her.

“That is just fine, George. Because I do.”

Grabbing her hand, Rose marched the two of them out of the kitchen and toward the front door. Charlotte’s heart beat as fast as a hummingbird, and she could sense the tears trying to break free.

She held them at bay, however. They would not serve her now. Charlotte could fall apart later when Frederick was safely back in this house alongside her and his sister. Until then, she would remain a piece of steel—unflappable and unmoved by the potential for disaster.

Through the door, Charlotte and Rose leaped into the first carriage that appeared before them at the bottom of the estate’s steps. Once inside, Rose leaned out of the window and called out to the young tiger who was standing at the ready nearby.

“You! Get this carriage moving. We need to get to the East End Gaming Hell at once.”

The young man, hardly older than a boy, jumped onto the carriage and another footman alongside him. They got the carriage into motion in seconds, and Charlotte sat with Rose in silence as the vehicle took off toward the bowels of London.

As the tension ratcheted down her spine, seeking to choke her, Charlotte couldn’t hold back the words that had been simmering in her mind any longer.

“What if the Baron has killed him? What if he has killed the Baron?” She looked over at Rose, whose expression was held in a grim mask, only just covering the panic in her stare. “What on earth did he think he was doing?”

Rose turned toward her, taking Charlotte’s hands and squeezing them tightly.

“What he always thinks he’s doing. Protecting someone he cares about. I cannot say I support his methods, but I know this about my brother. He is devoted to this family, to me. I would have been lost to my humiliation and grief if it were not for his kindness.”

Charlotte swallowed, the feeling like forcing down a croquet ball. “He is extraordinarily awful at evaluating risks to his own person. I…I will never forgive him if he’s gone and gotten himself killed.”

“Then,” Rose met her stare, “let us pray that we get there before he can be stupid enough to let that happen.”

Taking comfort in her sister-in-law’s presence and yanking herself up by her bootstraps, Charlotte nodded back at Rose with a purposeful smile.

“Indeed. We will be there for Frederick.” Charlotte looked out the window of the coach. “And when this is all over, he will answer to me.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Pain reverberated through Frederick’s head as consciousness greeted him once more. Dull aches permeated the rest of his body. Wait, no, it was only on the left side. He groaned, more of his thoughts righting themselves, and Frederick realized that he was lying on a rough floor.

Pushing up, he fought the need to retch as his head spun. When at last he was seated, Frederick looked around him. He was in some dark building, the interior mostly empty and looking rather abandoned.

“Christ Almighty, my head is splitting.”

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