Page 5 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
But the door creaked open just slightly, enough for her older brother Waylon’s pale face to appear. His brows knit together as he spoke in low, measured words. “I wanted to tell you that Rotheworth, the new duke, I mean, has taken his seat in the House of Lords today. His mourning has ended.”
Charlene’s hands dropped into her lap, her heart sinking like the air had been pushed from her lungs. “Oh,” she managed, her voice faint. “I see.” It doesn’t concern me anymore… “I’m sorry I can’t be—” but she didn’t finish, for she swallowed a tear and looked up at her brother.
Waylon stepped inside, his long frame taut with something less than pity but far closer to frustration. “I know. Well, as are we. David Cross might have had Father’s blessing, but the betrothal contract had not been signed yet, nor had it been announced, so if we don’t go, it will be well. Fortunately, the new duke cleared that up after that night… and none of us have spoken to the Cross family.”
Charlene stiffened. She hadn’t told Waylon or her father everything that had happened, though they did know somethinghad. Something that had turned her into a sobbing mess on Adam’s arm that night.
“He’s coming out of mourning and there’s a small gathering for him. Again, we won’t attend, but I didn’t want you to find out from someone else,” Waylon finished, studying her the way one might a fragile piece of porcelain, delicate and on the verge of breaking. Perhaps she was exactly that.
Her throat burned, but she swallowed it down. A part of her wanted to be there for Adam, but a part of her couldn’t. He was a Cross. David was a Cross. She just… couldn’t. “I don’t want you to go.” I don’t want him to glimpse even a sliver of my shame. Even though no scandal had erupted, the memories hadn’t been erased.
Waylon stepped toward her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you won’t tell me what happened?”
She shook her head furiously. She’d sworn Adam to silence as well after he had knocked his brother out cold after she’d refused to… to… argh! This was her secret. And the Crosses’. She didn’t want anyone else to know. And she most certainly didn’t want to burden her family since the scandal had been spared.
Somehow. Inexplicably so.
“You look serious,” Waylon said, his tone light. He tilted his head, craning to see whether Charlene had been crying again. That was typical for her brother: she must laugh if she’s happy and cry when she’s sad. As if there couldn’t be anything in between.
“It’s nothing,” Charlene replied crisply, though her lips quirked. Her fingers grasped the fabric of her shawl a bit too tightly, betraying her unease. “I am perfectly capable of a quiet moment without complaint.”
“Quiet moments, perhaps. But without complaint? I remain unconvinced.” Waylon grinned, lounging back in an altogetherimproper manner. “Tell me, then. What truly has stolen away your usual charm? I miss my sister.”
“I’m right here.”
“You used to be everywhere. At balls, banquets, and dinners. You laughed.” Waylon’s voice dropped. “You rarely do now. There’s just that look…”
Charlene’s hand faltered over the shawl, and she set it aside. She still laughed, she begrudgingly thought. And attended balls and such. Perhaps there was just somethingmissing. “You might as well say it plainly, Waylon,” she said, glancing at him. His teasing softened slightly; he had always been an astute brother when he chose to be.
“All right,” he said, his tone losing some of its prior jest. “I’ve heard little whispers, you know. That you aren’t yourself since that night with the Crosses. That…” He trailed off, hesitant.
“That I long for things I cannot have anymore?” she finished for him, her voice low. A sudden flush swept up her neck, and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “I’ve read enough of their speculation already. Shall we add another chapter to my alleged but unproven ruin?” Her mouth twisted, self-deprecating.
There just hadn’t been the scandal that Charlene had expected.
Deserved even.
And nobody had told her what to do with this second chance… it was a secret scandal.
And yet, secrets had ways of getting out.
“You haven’t ruined your heart,” Waylon said, his brown eyes steady. “The world is unfair. Harsh. But that doesn’t mean you’re finished.”
But my heart feels broken; how can anything else go on?
Her throat tightened. “I want what any woman wants, Waylon. To feel a thrill, a warmth. For love, true love.” Herwords faltered, her face burning. “It is a cruel twist of fate to still want it when you know you must never dare reach for it. Not fully.”
Waylon was quiet for a long moment. Then he offered her a gentle smile, low and familiar. “Only you would make longing seem like a virtue, Charlene. If anyone deserves more than they’ve been given, surely it’s you.” His statement was equal parts humor and affection, but his look lingered, steady and kind.
Charlene managed a strained smile, but her chest felt hollow. She could only laugh faintly at his words and turn back to her embroidery, though the thread blurred in her vision, the ache within her far heavier than she dared to voice. “No matter what happens, Char, no matter what you want to do, I’ll be here. None of us will turn our backs on you, not even if the truth comes out, whatever that truth may be.” His tone was firm, unyielding, his hand briefly squeezing hers as if to anchor her to something more solid than her heartbreak.
“I just want to be alone.”
“Very well,” he said softly, turning to slip from the room again. The sound of his boots fading down the hall left Charlene alone with the welcoming and supremely oppressive silence that only broke with the ticking of the clock on the mantel.
Alone.
Utterly alone.
