Page 51 of Married to the Icy Duke
“My sweet boy, it was an accident! It was only an accident! Oh, you mustn’t look at me like that. I’m notangryat you. I’m not, I promise. It was a silly accident which could have happened to anybody.”
Tommy pushed out his lower lip, not convinced, and silently pointed to the paint striping her hands and arms, splattered across her dress.
“This will wash out, I’m sure of it,” Charlotte said firmly. “And even if it doesn’t, I have a lot of dresses, haven’t I? Don’t be so upset, my dear. Like I said, I am not angry. Here, let me give you a hug. Oh, no, wait, I had better not, or you’ll get paint all over your nice clothes, and then Mary would be angry at us both, wouldn't she?”
She gave a small, conspiratorial smile and was relieved to see an answering smile creep over Isaac’s face. He giggled, a little uncertainly, and Charlotte beamed back at him.
“Well, shall we take you up to the nursery, before poor Mary starts to panic?”
He nodded, and Charlotte got to her feet and took his hand.
“And after that,” she told him, “I shall need a good, long, hot bath. I shall ask Perling to draw one for me at once, I think.”
Tommy giggled again.
CHAPTER 15
Charlotte stripped out of her paint-splattered frock with a sigh. Perling had told her that Joan was eating her dinner and had offered to fetch her anyway. Charlotte had declined, since poor Joan worked quite hard enough already without being hauled away mid-meal. Besides, Charlotte could quite easily undress herself, at the very least.
The door to the washroom was open, with steam billowing out. She could almost feel the hot water on her skin. The maids—the ones not yet sitting down to dinner—had toiled up and down the servants’ staircase with endless buckets of water, sloshing and splashing until the bathtub was full.
The paint had soaked through her layers of clothing, staining her calves and forearms. Charlotte tutted to herself, picking at the already-dried stains. Well, it didn’t matter. A good, long soak should do the trick. Standing in her chemise before the mirror, she unpinned her hair, letting it fall down over her shoulders. Pausing, Charlotte inspected herself, biting her lip.
What does he see when he looks at me?
This thought seemed to come from nowhere, exploding in her mind like a cannonball. Sucking in a breath, Charlotte angrily shook her head and concentrated on pinning her hair up on top of her head again, to keep it from soaking in the water. She didn’t intend to wash her hair or even scrub herself vigorously. No, this soak was all about peace and relaxation.
Stepping into the washroom, she pushed the door closed behind her and eyed the steaming bathtub. Gingerly, she eased one foot into the hot water. It was deliciously warm, and a red flush spread over her skin. Slowly, she stepped fully into the bath and lowered herself in properly.
With a sigh, she leaned back against the sheet draped over the rim and closed her eyes. One of the maids—bless her—had thought to sprinkle a handful of lavender into the hot water, and the rich steam was scented delicately. It was a soothing scent, and Charlotte concentrated on breathing in and out, calming herself.
Isaac, she had decided, was a problem. If he were old or ugly, or somehowdifferent, the problem would be a more manageable one. Charlotte had realized a long time ago that love in a marriage could be troublesome.
Gabriel and Thalia had found love, and she was happy for them, but the plain fact was that most couples didnotmarry for love and did not find such lofty sentiments after marriage.Practicality was the order of the day, and that was why she had seriously considered marrying Sir Peter.
Isaac was … different. That was the only word that seemed to sum him up. His intense gaze set her skin on fire, tightened her chest, and caused her heart to leap up into her throat.
Worse than that, his very presence conjured up feelings which, she was quite sure, respectable ladies were not meant to feel. Letting out a ragged sigh, Charlotte allowed herself to sink lower into the hot water until only her nose and above peeped out.
She’d imagined his hands on her, and not just above her clothes. She’d imagined his warm, broad palms cupping her knees, maybe even sliding higher. She’d imagined his lips, not on her lips, but on her throat, kissing downwards towards the dip of her neckline. She’d imagined …
Charlotte’s eyes flew open, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the rush of desire that followed. This wasnotcorrect, she was sure of that. Respectable ladies did not even let their husbands-to-bekissthem before the wedding day, and Charlotte had certainly done that already. It wasn’t as if her reputation could withstand any additional blows.
Clearing her throat, she sat up a little more. Leaning forward, she could catch glimpses of her own reflection in the rippling water. She stared at herself, biting her lower lip. To be sure, the angle was not the best one, but she was notugly.
Lifting a tentative hand, Charlotte touched the point of her chin with one forefinger and allowed the finger to trail downwards, past the curve of her throat to the hollow between her collarbones. Sinking her teeth deeper into her lip, she trailed her hand lower, to where the swell of her breasts jutted out above her water.
He touched me like this, above my gown. Why should it feel so very intense?
But then, if he wished to kiss me and touch me in that manner, why did he agree so easily to my rules regarding our marital relations?
Try as she might, her thoughts came back to this matter again and again. She had insisted that they should not touch or share a bed after their marriage, and he had agreed. He had agreed readily, without complaint or demurral, even without trying to haggle. He clearly did not care in the least whether she shared his bed or not.
But perhaps I care,Charlotte thought, with dawning misery.Perhaps I care a good deal more than I ought.
It mattered little, of course. Their wedding would take place soon, and from what she’d heard, nothing cooled passion as readily as a marriage ceremony. They would marry and begin their separate lives, and soon she would …
Footsteps thumped in the hallway outside, and the door swung open to her room with acrash.
