Page 96 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
But then, a sharp knock rang out, jolting its way through the air, shattering the cocoon of warmth they had built around themselves.
Charlene startled, her body tensing as her lips broke away from his, though she lingered impossibly close. Her breaths came quick and shallow, brushing against his mouth with each exhale.
Her eyes shifted to the door but flickered back to him almost instantly, a trace of hesitation glimmering in their depths. Adam’s jaw tightened as he turned toward the source of the intrusion, the taut energy in the room pressing against him like a weight. Yet his thumb, unbidden, swept a gentle line along her jaw, his own breath measured and steadying as if to remind her that they were still here, still together. The silence between them brimmed with unspoken words, a pact neither needed to voice.
Whoever stood beyond that door could wait. What had just passed between them was immutable.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The door burstopen before Charlene had even taken a steadying breath, swinging wide with an air of authority that made her flinch, her knuckles tightening on the edge of the bedsheet. The scent of scrambled eggs and toast from the plates mingled incongruously with the clatter of the breakfast cart as it rolled forward, laden with polished silver cloches that gleamed in the morning light, the hotel’s crest engraved across their domes.
“There you are!” The unmistakable voice of Adam’s mother filled the room, her Spanish lilt lending the words an almost musical quality. She strode in with the kind of presence that could eclipse the sun itself, her gloved hands managing the cart expertly. “The waiter informed me I ought to keep my voice down because the Duke of Rotheworth is present. Can you believe such nonsense?”
At the doorway, the aforementioned waiter, a pale young man fidgeting with the tails of his jacket, froze awkwardly under her hawkish glare. Then, under no further instruction but the weight of her silent dismissal, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway in a stiff, hurried shuffle. Adam’s mother, satisfied, gave a faint sniff of approval before turning her demanding gaze back to the scene before her.
“So, look at you two,” she tsked.
And then, she narrowed her eyes. Her sharp eyes latched onto Charlene first, clothed in nothing more than her chemise,the thin fabric clinging to her every contour. A crimson heat flushed Charlene’s skin from her throat to the roots of her hair. Her hands hesitated between reaching to cover herself and retreating into the sheets entirely. She couldn’t find the strength to move either way.
Next, Adam. He had pushed up on the mattress with a strangled, “Mother!” one hand clutching a pillow to his lap with hastily summoned decency. His shock was all too transparent—from his wide eyes to the way his usually self-assured voice scratched at the pitch of embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that,” his mother replied smoothly, her tone implacable as she slid her gloves off one finger at a time. She nudged the cart farther inside, as though she had no intention of leaving until she had her say. “You, the man of the house, lounging in your friend’s luxury hotel instead of attending to your duties at your own residence. What is this, Adam? Are you a visitor in your own country?”
A low, awkward silence filled the room, and Charlene wanted to disappear beneath the floorboards. If mortification could kill, she was certain Adam’s mother had just wielded it with expert precision. Instead, she remained frozen, caught between the escalating tension across the room and the humiliating weight of her own predicament. A visitor in her own life, she thought hollowly, her hands gripping the linens as though they might shield her from the judgment wrought by such a glaring scene.
“And now to you, Charlene.” These simple words had an edge, its purpose as deliberate as a needle prick.
Charlene blinked, too stunned and far too warm now to respond. The heat in her cheeks threatened to overwhelm her, and her gaze dropped to the cloches as though they might offer some sort of safe haven.
“Mother, I beg of you, leave us,” Adam cut in sharply, his bare chest rising as he exhaled, his free hand fumbling to pull on his breeches while still holding the pillow in place. “We can discuss this at home.” His tone was pitched low, his usual commanding presence just beginning to reassert itself.
“No! You didn’t come home, and David wants to leave,” his mother said flatly, her hands now clasped primly at her waist. “I’ve been silent for too long. There are matters here that need addressing.”
“Matters?” Adam echoed in a growl, his brows knitting together, but his mother barely spared him a glance.
“What is this, Charlene?” she pressed, her dark eyes pinning Charlene like a butterfly under glass. “One year it’s David, and now it’s Adam? Charlene, your parents raised you far better than this.” She tsked and narrowed her gaze. “First you drive one son of mine away and this, this… Has it taken you a whole year to think of how to seduce a duke this autumn?”
“Mother!” Adam thundered.
But at the mention of David, a dagger-like stab of pain sharpened the nausea building in Charlene’s stomach. Charlene’s pulse hammered wildly, each beat a deafening echo in her ears. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed against the scorching heat spreading up her neck and into her face. Her fingers fumbled with the edge of the sheet, gripping it harder as if she could anchor herself in the chaos around her. Words hovered on the brink of her tongue, but her lips parted only to release a shallow, faltering breath that caught in her throat.
She barely registered the shift in the air until Adam moved. His bare shoulders rolled back as he stood, every inch of his tall frame unfolding with calm precision. The morning light caught the planes of his back, the defined muscles shifting with a quiet strength that stole her breath for reasons beyond mortification. His movements were unhurried but deliberate, an undeniablepresence that drew all eyes to him, silencing the crackling unease in the room with nothing but his sheer command.
“Enough, Mother,” he said, his voice cutting through the room like steel slicing velvet. He stood tall and imposing, his back to Charlene, and she couldn’t help but notice the effortless strength in the way his muscles flexed as he reached to fasten his breeches, movements swift and restrained.
Despite the sheer enormity of the embarrassment, Charlene found her gaze drawn to him, a strange comfort blooming alongside her. Trapped in the wreckage of this morning’s events, there was no denying the presence he carried. And for just a fleeting moment, she could believe he was a shield against it all.
But there was no escaping the reality of the shipwreck unfolding before her—not Adam’s mother, standing her ground with a face like granite, nor the sound of Adam’s measured, heated breathing as tension coiled tighter in the air. Against her better judgment, Charlene could only sit, stay silent, and brace herself for what was to come next.
The air in the room grew unbearably thick as Adam’s mother’s voice cut through the fragile moment like a rapier. “How long has this been going on?” she demanded, her sharp eyes flicking between Charlene and Adam with the precision of a dagger.
The words struck Charlene, dragging all the air from her lungs. Her lips opened, but only the faintest sound emerged, a pathetic wisp of a stammer that failed to form an answer. “I… we…” she tried, her voice barely more than a whisper as her mind scrambled for something, anything, that might diffuse the situation. But her thoughts fluttered chaotically, refusing to settle into coherence. Her cheeks burned so fiercely, she was certain they would scorch her skin.
Without a word, Adam moved in front of her, blocking her from his mother’s penetrating gaze like a shield. “This is noneof your concern, Mother,” he said, his voice firm, but with an undercurrent tight enough to betray his rising irritation. Charlene’s breath wavered behind him, her hand clutching the sheet tighter as shame and fear warred within her.
Adam’s mother scoffed, unfazed by his attempt to assert control. “It is my concern,” she snapped, her accent sharpening her vowels into arrows. With a deliberate motion, she pushed the breakfast cart aside, the clattering of its wheels echoing in the strained silence. Planting her hands on her hips, she leveled a glare at Adam, her gaze as unflinching as stone. “Especially if the reason is the woman who made my son leave the country.”
Charlene froze, her pulse battering against her ribcage as the words crashed over her. It felt as though the room tilted beneath her, and she struggled to keep herself upright, though she hardly trusted her legs to support her, even when seated. The sheet beneath her now bore the deep imprints of her nails.
