Page 89 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
“Then perhaps Henry? You seem to get along well?”
She glanced away, her thoughts tangling. “This isn’t about Henry. This is…” She gestured vaguely, then thrust the letter toward him. He made no move to take it, only raised a brow. “This is…”
“No riddles, if you please,” he said lightly. “Waylon’s notes have been riddled with the Cross brothers, but I know he thinks little of them these days. Speak plainly for once, my dear. What is vexing you? Is it because I didn’t tell you about my meeting with Rotheworth earlier?”
Charlene bit her lip, heat rising in her cheeks. “Waylon. And Adam. Rotheworth. He’s written to me. I think… he’s going to fight a duel.” She flung the letter onto the planting table, its corner brushing the soil dusting the surface.
Her father adjusted his glasses. “A duel? Over you? Hmm.” His mouth curved slightly, but to her astonishment, it wasn’t with amusement. “I gather the poor man’s intentions toward you are not entirely dishonorable, then. So, his father was right then?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“It was shortly before he died, Charlene. When Adam was taking his final exams and bound to return. His father must have known that he was dying because he told me he’d hoped for a love match of our families.”
“Oh dear, Papa!” Charlene exclaimed, though her rebuttal came with little conviction. “This is not the time for teasing!”
“On the contrary, it seems an excellent time to determine why you look more inclined toward leaping into your carriage than arranging a vase of orchids.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “You’ve made up your mind about Henry then? There’s no love match with any of the Cross brothers?”
Charlene hesitated. The sunshine warming the greenhouse did little to ease the chill building in her chest. “I can’t marryHenry. I won’t.” She clasped her hands tightly to stop them from trembling.
Her father nodded, as though this was no more surprising than an afternoon rain shower. “And Adam?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “I must see him.”
For a moment, her father said nothing. Then he inclined his head in a rare show of approval. “Well, I shan’t keep you plotting here where even your orchids seem of little comfort. But take the carriage. Your reputation is not entirely worthless yet.”
With one last glance at her father, Charlene gathered her bonnet and gloves, tying the ribbons with shaky fingers as she hurried outside. The light breeze caught the edge of her skirts as she climbed into the waiting carriage, her heart thudding wildly.
“The Duchy Hotel,” she instructed, gripping her gloved fingers together tightly.
The driver urged the horses onward, and the carriage pulled away with a creak of its wheels. Charlene allowed herself a single breath. Reputation, sensibility, and consequences faded behind her as the greenhouse disappeared. Only Adam’s cryptic words lingered.I must give you something I have so long owed you.
And she would get her answers even if it meant sacrificing everything.
*
Adam scowled atthe papers he was busy drawing up for the solicitor. The only way to stop David from destroying the family fortune and controlling the situation was by getting him out of England.
For good.
Forever.
So, he would create a stipend that could only be redeemed in Provence and lapsed the moment David returned to England. It was the only way to keep that scoundrel from returning.
And he would return. Again and again.
His twin knew exactly how to needle him. How to push.
Which is why exile had to be absolute.
For Charlene.
And for him.
His mother.
But mostly for Charlene. Their future. If they still had one.
A knock startled him. Sharp, firm. He stilled, the quill in his hand dripping ink onto the desk. It was late. Too late for the solicitor’s man. And no one else knew he was here besides his friend and…
