Page 17 of The Brooding Duke's Fateful Letter
This is an agreement, and you are a cripple in her eyes! All pleasantries shall fade with time and she will hate me. The duke wrestled with his heart. He had been so well abandoned by family and peers that he needed just one person that was truly his. After all these years of melancholy, it can not be this effortless without there being a snare. No! I will catch her at her own game and be in control once again.
How lovely it would be to stand up and walk with her through the gardens that please her so. For that smile to be true and aimed solely at me. Stop this madness!
The duke dropped his fork onto hid plate as his distress took hold of him.
“Your Grace, are you unwell? “Charlotte asked, her green gaze darkened by concern.
“Yes, thank you My Lady. I fear my condition takes me well to unwell quite hastily,” the duke made an excuse.
“Please, Your Grace. If you require rest, I would hate that you stay and worsen your condition to host us.” Charlotte said feeling true concern for his welfare.
“That is most kind, My Lady. I shall after lunch retire to my chambers to heal.” The duke stated in a tone that even he was not sure carried genuine grace.
The remainder of the meal was enjoyed in silence and the duke did indeed retire to his chambers for the afternoon. It gave him both the opportunity to stretch his aching muscles and to discover what Charlotte would do left to her own devices.
The duke had instructed his maid servants to keep a close watch on her. He had waited all afternoon for a report that would confirm his suspicions. In waiting he had fallen asleep and awoke from bothersome dreams of the young lady, to find that it was time for dinner. It dawned on the duke as he went to his uncomfortable chair that no dinner guests had even been invited.
“Your Grace, supper is now about to be served.” A man servant informed the duke through a small opening in is chamber door.
“Thank you. Do come inside a moment will you?” the duke asked.
“Yes Your Grace.” The servant replied.
“I want you to go to Cecil. Invite him and his family to supper. Make it known to him that it is required he be here.”
“At once, Your Grace.” He replied and left.
“Good man.” The duke said feeling more relieved. Cecil had a keen eye that would serve him well that evening.
The duke made his way to the dining room to find Lord Wentworth seated alone.
Already given up, had she?
“Your Grace I do apologize. Ladies require a while longer than men do to be ready. I am quite sure she wants to look her best for you,” Lord Wentworth said.
That is quite acceptable, Lord Wentworth. I do hope the delay shall not be too prolonged,” the duke replied and Lord Wentworth’s throat worked as the atmosphere become tense.
“I am terribly sorry for the delay, Your Grace,” the duke heard her soft voice behind him and tried to ignore the affect it had on his imagination.
“That is quite…” The duke starts to speak then finds himself robbed of all words and thought as his eyes feast on her. Her golden hair was skillfully styled to frame her face and remain decent. The slight addition of color on her cheeks only drew attention to her natural beauty instead of creating a false one. Her dress was fashionable and as such only gave hint to her slender form and left his imagination even more aflame.
“Well worth the wait, My Lady,” the duke said forgetting himself by being lost in her.
Women want to be taken care of. Provided for. A man to be steadfast, then someone might even want you. His mind rang.
Cruel words from the past echoed in his ears. Words spoken to him by his own mother. They had etched in him the idea that he was less than, unwanted. Those words had been said to a young, healthy version of himself.
How grotesque must I be now with this infliction! Even without it I am like a runt! He thought angrily.
The duke’s temples had begun to throb, and the supper had not yet been served.
I can not be overcome with weakness and need rest after each meal. Be a man in one respect at least! The duke took deep breaths and tried to sate his pain.
“Your Grace, does your head trouble you?” Charlotte inquired.
“It is just remnants of the accident.” The duke said as a means to dismiss her worry and hoped she would not enquire about the accident.
“I noticed a harp in the next room, Your Grace. I play quite well. Then there is also the fact that it eases my nanny from her aches.” Charlotte offered.
