Page 53 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
What a kiss!
Oh, how confusing everything had become. Still, she hadn’t felt like herself since it happened, and some small part of her dreaded and longed for it in equal measure.
The door opened. Charlene exhaled in relief at the distraction and turned to find her brother, Waylon, stepping inside.
Charlene’s relief drained away the moment she saw Waylon’s face, his mouth pulled into a grim line and a folded piece of paper crushed in his hand. His boots scuffed against the polished floor as he shut the door firmly behind him. “Youwon’t like what I’ve just discovered,” he said, his voice low and weighted as he handed it to her.
Charlene unfolded it and her heart sank as soon as she recognized the header of the M-Press.
At Cavendish House’s Guy Fawkes revelry, one scarcely knew where to train their gaze, with the newly betrothed Earl of Linsey and Lady Ashley garnering much attention. Yet, it is not glowing sparks that linger in this observer’s mind, but rather the peculiar absence of Lady Charlene Fielding and the Duke of Rotheworth during the fireworks. What pressing matter, one wonders, could draw them from such a spectacle?
Charlene swallowed hard and looked at her brother. There was just a moment that was so intense, panic rose to her throat. Ashley tapped Charlene on the arm and took the paper, skimming it as Waylon seemed to keep up appearances.
“Ladies,” he said, inclining his head. His tone was heavy, as his olive-green coat caught the muted afternoon light. Behind him, a stranger followed. A young man, clean-shaven and impossibly poised. His light hair was cut crisp, and his well-fitted coat suggested wealth—but it was the effortless ease of his smile that softened the space between them. Why did he seem familiar?
“This is Henry Grafton,” Waylon said. “A friend from Oxford. He’s to stay with us for the week.” Her brother turned to her. Waylon spoke politely but Charlene knew that it didn’t escape him when Maddie now took the M-Press paper from Ashley and gasped. “I trust you’ll make him feel welcome,” Waylon added.
He trusted her to do what? What exactly did he mean by that?
Waylon, you are dead.
“How can they write this? How did they even know?” Maddie said, folding the paper nervously into quarters, eighths, sixteenths, and then just a package of what it was—rubbish and bad news.
Henry stepped forward and bowed with deliberate politeness, his gaze landing on Charlene. “Lady Charlene,” he murmured, “an honor to make your acquaintance.”
Oh the voice!
Charlene recognized it from the masquerade ball.
“I reckon you don’t pay much heed to gossip. For neither do I.” Mr. Grafton bowed and Charlene did as custom demanded—held out her hand and let him place a kiss on her knuckles.
It was respect. Formality.
Nothing like when she touched Adam and her veins heated with longing.
Charlene rose, her movements faltering as her brother’s friend’s attention shifted to the book she carried. His gaze, unpressed but curious, lingered on the faded brown leather cover. Maddie, seemingly unfazed, cleared her throat, retrieved the book, and extended the volume toward the table, but Mr. Grafton tilted his head slightly and read aloud the embossed title as if it were merely an afterthought.
“Handbook on Matters of Seduction and the Heart,” he said, his voice even, polished, yet far from mocking. A faint smile played at his mouth. “Odd title for a reference book. And yet,” he paused meaningfully, glancing at Charlene, “full of promise, I should think.”
Charlene flushed when her brother turned his sharp eyes to her, before he said to his friend, clapping him on the shoulder, “Henry, make yourself at home as my guest. I have an engagement I must attend to. I’ll return before dinner.”
Hah!
“Of course,” Mr. Grafton replied, inclining his head. “Your hospitality is already most evident.” His eyes flicked back to Charlene, the corner of his mouth curving into something that felt both kind and, dare she say, teasing? “I can see that tea with the ladies will be exceedingly entertaining. Particularly if they’re inclined to share such interesting reference materials.” He nodded slightly toward the book still clutched in Maddie’s hands, who promptly shuffled the book beneath her bottom with an air of forced nonchalance. Despite her outward composure, her cheeks flushed a terrible shade of scarlet, nearly as brilliant as Charlene’s own.
“No such materials will be shared, I assure you, Mr. Grafton,” Maddie declared, her voice unshakable despite the ludicrous picture she made perched above the incriminating book.
Charlene could barely breathe, her mortification swelling to unbearable heights. Could there possibly be a more laughable moment? Her brother’s arms folded across his chest, looking just slightly amused now that he seemed to catch the tail-end of whatever chaos Mr. Grafton’s comment had stirred.
“Well, Charlene,” Waylon said lightly, “as the lady of the house, I trust you’ll continue to extend our hospitality. See that Henry has everything he needs, won’t you?” Without waiting for confirmation, he gave a slight bow to the group and left the room.
Waylon!
Heat surged across her face, reaching her temples, and surely it made her appear as crimson as the poppies embroidered on her tea towel. Could anything be worse than this? Not only were her feelings already in a hopeless mess, but now she was to entertain Mr. Grafton, of all people.
Her hands darted to her empty teacup, fingers fumbling at the saucer’s edge. She wished desperately for access to a magician’s trickery, to dissolve into thin air and retreatunnoticed. Yet here she was, clumsy and exposed in a way she never seemed to be around Adam.
Why was that?
