Page 43 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
Except if he could undo that somehow… remedy the situation—avert the crisis?
Adam didn’t want to leave right now. Every nerve in his body resisted the idea. He had finally—finally—moved an inch with Charlene. And now, just when he needed time to think, to strategize, to act—he was being dragged away by obligation.
He let his head fall back against the sofa with a groan.
It wasn’t just a formality. These visits were necessary. His tenants depended on him. There were leases to review, accountsto settle, disputes to mediate, roofs that needed repairing before winter settled in.
But the timing—the timing could not be worse.
His mother watched him struggle, amusement flickering in her eyes. “It won’t take more than a fortnight.”
A fortnight.
Fourteen days away from Charlene.
Away from that sharp tongue and heated gaze. Away from any opportunity to close the impossible distance between them.
He clenched his jaw.
He didn’t have much choice. If he stayed, his mother would hound him relentlessly.
Perhaps this was for the best.
Perhaps distance would bring clarity.
Or perhaps it would drive him mad.
*
Two weeks hadpassed, and Charlene had not heard a word from Adam.
Not even a note.
Why hadn’t he?
The drawing room at Ashley’s townhouse glowed with a serene charm, soft light spilling from the chandelier. A subtle honeyed candle scent fused with the earthy bitterness of sealing wax melting on its silver spoon, balancing the faint metallic tang of fresh ink spread in delicate loops across the wedding invitations. The warmth of the fire crackled faintly behind the three women, its waves of heat brushing against their ankles despite the slight chill carried in from the cooler autumn air.
Charlene sat beside Ashley at the table, smoothing her skirts each time the paper crinkled beneath her hands. Even the velvet upholstery beneath her, paired with the comforting popsof chatter from Ashley and Maddie, couldn’t halt the restless pacing of her thoughts. Her hands, usually sure and steady, fumbled as she folded an ivory sheet for yet another pristine envelope. The fibers of the paper stung after sliding against her fingertips for what must have been the fiftieth time that afternoon.
“Ouch.” The word escaped under her breath, sharp and sudden.
Ashley’s head whipped toward her. “What happened?”
Charlene stuck her fingertip into her mouth instinctively, the sting of the paper cut small but sharp. The taste of salt met her tongue as she winced from the tender ache flaring across the small slice in her skin.
“Is it bleeding?” Maddie peered over from her place on the other side of the table, where she had given up on ribbons in favor of arranging the paper slips into neat stacks. “Should I fetch my apothecary bag?”
“No, not yet,” Charlene murmured, withdrawing her hand from her lips to inspect the thin, faintly red mark trailing across her index finger.
Ashley shook her head with a sympathetic cluck of her tongue as she warmed yet another stick of wax over the flame. “Paper cuts. Nasty hurts, those. Remember when I jabbed myself in the palm folding programs last Yuletide? Awful.”
Her words might have drawn a wry smile on another day, but at that moment, Charlene felt emotion rise unexpectedly, catching her off guard and forging a hot sting in her throat. She dropped her gaze to the table, her shoulders falling even as her nervous fingers traced the edges of the envelope resting before her.
“What is it, Char?” Maddie teased lightly. “Has it gone deep?”
Her laugh was quick and bright, but it trailed off when Charlene didn’t respond.
Deep, yes. Like cupid’s arrow to her heart.
