Page 36 of Tamed By a Duke
"Oh, I know your intentions were honourable," Charlotte continued, as she caught sight of Hugh's outraged mien, "But he does not know that. You persuaded him that you acted out of concern for his position as second in line, and not concern for a brother whom you love. I am afraid that without knowing why you truly did what you did, that your poor brother will have simply thought that you were being..."
"Yes?"
"That you were being the unbearable, proud Duke of Penrith, and not his older brother," Charlotte finished.
Well. She had not been lying when she had said that she would speak plainly, Hugh thought with a wince. Though he could see, now that she had pointed it out so baldly, that this was what had driven a wedge between the pair.
Hugh had been too afraid to admit his concerns to his brother, too proud to tell him how much that he cared for his welfare. Too ducal to say 'I love you', even to someone who shared his blood.
"Am I unbearable?" Hugh asked, and Miss Drew flushed prettily.
"Only sometimes," she replied, and to Hugh's surprise she reached out, took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Mostly, you are lordly," she continued, adopting a jolly voice in an attempt to break the heady tension which had fallen between them at her touch, "Sometimes arrogant, occasionally snooty...but always kind."
Kind? It was not a word that Hugh would ever use to describe himself, but the softness in Charlotte's eyes when she looked at him, made Hugh long to live up to her vision. He would do anything—wash puppies, rescue kittens, feed the poor—anything to keep her looking at him like that.
"Well," he said, straightening himself in his seat, "I think I know what my next step will be. Thank you for your words of wisdom, Miss Drew, they have been most illuminating."
"It's always good to talk with a friend," Charlotte quipped, and Hugh felt rather touched.
Did she consider him a friend, as well as everything else? For a moment, Hugh had a vision of how upset Charlotte might be were she to find out just why he had pursued her. Panic bubbled within him and Hugh would have blurted everything out, in a bid to right his wrongs, had Charlotte's towering lady's maid not decided to make her presence known.
"Miss Drew," the Valkyrie called, with a disproving glance at Hugh, "We must be leaving now if you are to be on time for your grandmother."
"Lud, I had almost forgotten!" Charlotte cried, as she hopped from her seat, "Good day, Your Grace. I hope that you are feeling much better."
"Much," Hugh stood and offered both Charlotte and her gaoler an elegant bow.
The pair left, and as they disappeared down the stairs, Hugh went to stand by the window. He watched as the two women exited the shop, hurried toward a waiting carriage, and clambered inside, disappearing once more from view.
As Hugh observed the carriage edge its way into the heavy traffic of Piccadilly, he realised that he was more determined than ever to make Charlotte his bride. First, he would try and make amends with Leo, then he would have it from Charlotte just what it was that she was hiding, and then—
Hugh allowed himself a smile as he envisioned just what would happen after he and Charlotte had wed...
Chapter Eleven
As Charlotte followed her grandmother and father into Lord and Lady Jacob's ballroom, she struggled to recall if she had ever felt so nervous. Certainly, during her first season out, she had been skittish with each new event she attended, but that giddy excitement was nothing in comparison to the butterflies which now filled her stomach.
Charlotte idly wondered how so many poems had been written about love, when it left one in a perpetual state of nausea, before she quickly pulled herself up on her mistake.
You're not in love, she told herself sternly, as she followed Papa and Lady Everleigh into the thronged room. Heads turned to watch her progress, for thetonwas convinced of Charlotte's love for the duke, even if she was not, and they wished to catch a glimpse of the girl whose name had featured in so many gossip columns.
Charlotte stifled a sigh at their curiosity, and was glad when her father quickly disappeared to the card room and her grandmother to speak with a group of friends, allowing her to seek refuge in a far corner of the room.
A dozen marble columns supported the cathedral-height ceiling of the ballroom, and Charlotte made a beeline for the farthest one. It would, she hoped, be completely deserted of people, but when she finally arrived at the dark alcove, she found that the space was already occupied.
Thankfully, the occupant was a fellow wallflower.
"Violet," Charlotte smiled, as she spotted her friend, "Fancy meeting you here."
"I thrive in the shade, not the light," Violet replied with a grin, her face half hidden in the shadows cast by the towering column.
"Where is Lady Havisham?" Charlotte queried, resting her back against the wall in a mirror image of her friend's pose. This vantage allowed them a view of their fellow revellers whilst remaining unseen, hidden behind a column of marble.
"Aunt Phoebe abandoned me the moment we arrived for a game of Faro," Violet rolled her eyes, "And I soon became quite tired of floating through the crowds like a lost cloud, so I decided to hide."
"Did Sebastian not accompany you? Is he here?" Charlotte wondered aloud, surely Violet's brother could have kept her company amongst so many strangers.
