DukeAndEnchantress_PGolden-eBooks

by Golden, Paullett

  She continued to ignore him.

  Well, damn. Did the roses put her off? Had he not chosen the right foods? Did she not like the gifts? Uncertain what to say to elicit a response, he sat in lingering silence. All he had was his charm, and she was immune to it. Savoring his brandy and the warmth that spread through his body with each taste, he watched her watching the outdoors. Look at me, he commanded in his mind. Talk to me, dammit.

  A quarter of an hour of silence passed before his patience wore thin. Bit difficult to converse with only one willing party.

  “Shall we agree to a truce, Charlotte?” he braved.

  She turned to him, the bridge of her nose wrinkling.

  “Pardon, but did you say something?” She intoned frostily.

  “You heard me. I want a truce. To the devil with this tip toeing around each other. We are long overdue for a candid conversation.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t hear you, Your Grace. I don’t speak to libertines,” she replied with a glower before turning to the table to indulge in the food she’d heretofore ignored.

  “A libertine, am I? Can you be so certain?” He leaned forward in his chair.

  “You’re a perversely sinful man, and I do not wish to know you,” Charlotte said to her plate of food.

  “The devil I am.”

  “Mind your language. I will not be subjected to your vulgarity.”

  “Well, deuce take it, I’m your husband whether you wish to know me or not. Now, I offer a truce and want us to talk. A real talk, Charlotte,” he insisted.

  “Your being my husband is an inconvenient technicality. I do not see the benefit of a truce, for it is you who have wronged, and I’m undecided if I can forgive you. You’ve made a joke of my life.”

  “Charlotte, put away the blades, please. I didn’t invite you here to quarrel.”

  “You know perfectly well we have nothing to say to each other,” Charlotte countered, taking a bite of bread.

  “I’m in earnest. I’m tired of us being strangers in the same house. List for me my sins. Tell me how I have wronged you, for I wish to right all I’ve done. Be specific, for I’ve no way of knowing how I’ve made a mockery of you. I don’t feign ignorance to antagonize you. I’m a man. Do you need any more explanation of my ignorance? Talk to me, Charlotte.” He wasn’t above begging, even if he had to get on his knees.

  “I don’t regard you as quite so ignorant, Your Grace.” She took another bite of bread and looked at him only long enough to gouge his eyes with her own.

  “Please, consider me the daftest man in England and explain my sins in five languages.”

  She heaved a sigh. “How tedious.” Another sigh. “Very well, but know I do not appreciate the blatant humiliation you suffer me to endure in listing your sins.”

  Her body rigid, her spine straight, she said, “You’ve made me miserable, and nothing you say can assuage that sentiment.”

  “Have you tried to like it here?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” she retorted. “I love the manor and the staff, but the elements are against me. You were horribly rude to me on the trip here, embarrassing me in front of your cousin with crudeness, and then you abandoned me from the first day we arrived, allowing your mother to lord over me. You’ve never tried to talk to me, and you’ve certainly never defended me to your mother. And now you’ve taken a mistress without so much as giving me a chance, preferring to carry on at sordid parties with, with, oh, with those people. How is all of this to be borne? How am I to endure a life where I’m so unwanted?” Charlotte raged.

  Drake leaned back, mulling over her accusations.

  “You’re not unwanted, Charlotte. And I’m trying to talk to you now,” he defended, his voice soft and pleading.

  “Yes, well, and I’ve now laid at your feet your sins. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I don’t know where to start.” He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I didn’t abandon you. At least I didn’t intend to. I thought, well, after the drive from London, I was under the impression you only wanted the title, and having gotten it, you wanted no more to do with me. I left you to my mother because I believed that was what you wanted. You never came to me. You never indicated wanting to see me. I thought you were happy in your new role.”

  “No. I didn’t want the title.” She stared at her hands folded in her lap. “I only wanted you.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “But you pushed too hard, too fast. And then you walked away without looking back.”

  “That’s not fair,” Drake rebutted. “You’ve in no way shown you wanted me. Every advance I made, you pushed me away, to the point of physical violence and accusations of ravishment, might I add. How was I supposed to know you wanted me if you did everything to prove you didn’t? The few times you were receptive to my attentions, you followed them with days of coldness.”

  Charlotte snapped back at him, “I did not push you away. Countless nights I went to your room, hoping to talk or to…to…well, you weren’t there. You were off cavorting. The only times your affections have been unwanted were on the journey here, and even those weren’t entirely unwanted, merely too much, too soon. You treated me like one of your mistresses. You may be worldly, but I am not. Instead of talking to me or showing tenderness, you would paw at me and then sulk when I didn’t like it. All I’ve ever wanted is you, but you’ve been too self-absorbed to notice, wanting only to undress me.”

  Tirade at an end, she shivered and snatched up the piece of bread.

  As she chewed at the bread, he chewed on her words.

  “Charlotte, I’m sorry. I swear to you, I thought you were happier without me. I believed you’d used me for status.” He rubbed the back of his neck, deuced uncomfortable by his own short sightedness. “I wanted to go to you, but I knew you didn’t want me, and so I spent my evenings nursing my wounded pride.”

  Her gold-flecked eyes studied his as if filtering truth from lies.

  “And so, to salve your pride, you sought affection from those heathens,” she stated coolly.

  “No. Believe me when I say this. I have no one.” He paused, reaching for his brandy to prepare for the inevitability of all he was about to confess.

  Drake took a deep breath. “The woman you think is my mistress is most certainly not. I won’t deceive you by hiding that I once thought myself in love with her, but it was nothing more than a boyish infatuation that ended over ten years ago. I went to her only to tell her of the marriage. I will never see her again.”

  Charlotte said nothing, her shoulders rounding ever so slightly. Having finished the bread, she returned to chewing on her bottom lip.

  “I’m not as, er, well-traveled as you would think me.” He hesitated, shifting in his chair and clearing his throat. “I’ve only been with one woman. You may choose not to believe me, but I speak the truth and certainly wouldn’t admit this otherwise. I’ve only been with one woman, and I’ve not been with her for ten years. I am very much celibate, though I don’t suppose you’ll believe me.”

  Setting his glass down, he began to wring his hands, leaning an elbow against his chair, feeling a cold sweat on his brow. He couldn’t believe he was saying these words. Would she think he was a molly? Why else would he not have been with countless women over the years? One seed of doubt might be enough for her to question him. After all his work to build a secure reputation, he was recklessly abandoning it for the sake of truth to the last person on earth he wanted to question or doubt him.

  For all he knew, she would fling his honesty back at him, use his words against him. But he had to try if there was to be any peace between them.

  He continued, locking eye contact. “I’m not a rake and have no interest in being one. For me, physical affection is as closely tied to emotional attachment as my heart is to my soul. The one person I’ve been with, I loved dearly, and so I gave her my body and my he
art. Yes, I admit my lips are loose but only to heighten my reputation. My body belongs to no one except the woman of my heart. I’d like, if you would give me the opportunity, to offer you my body and my heart.”

  Charlotte visibly swallowed before reaching for her now cold tea, whetting her palate. She stared into her cup for some time before responding.

  “What of the scene I witnessed?” she questioned to the tea leaves.

  He pulled out a handkerchief to blot the sweat from his face, then exchanged it for his snuffbox for a pinch to relax his nerves. The box trembled in his hands. Such confessions were never meant to be spoken. Two pinches to be safe. He returned the box to its pocket before speaking.

  “You witnessed a scene from my past, nothing more. I have not been party to that madness since I was the age of the boys in attendance.”

  Charlotte set the cup and saucer on the table. “I don’t think I want to understand but proceed with an explanation, if you please.”

  “Don’t pity me when I say I was taken advantage of at a young age, for you must understand I was quite willing. More than willing. What young man wouldn’t be?” He chuckled, making light of a grim truth. “You witnessed the precursor to a scene nearly two decades in my past, not my present. The hostess of that rout was my first and only lover, and that affair ended when I was nigh three and twenty. While the woman is real, any rumor of an existing affair is entirely imaginary.”

  He downed the remainder of his brandy. If all this honesty didn’t improve the relationship, he was at a loss as to what would.

  With an abrupt laugh, he said, “I never expected a carefully crafted reputation of being a womanizer would interfere with my having the woman I want. Oh, that sounded less than eloquent. I’m not a poet, Charlotte. I couldn’t even finish the letter I started to write you. And if you don’t believe how terrible I am with words, I’ll show you the letter.”

  She gaped at him. “You wrote that letter for me?”

  “Well, of course—wait. How do you know about the letter?”

  A flush tinted her cheeks as she looked down at her hands.

  “Ah,” Drake said, grinning. Apparently, her snooping hadn’t been restricted to riding on the backs of carriages.

  “I don’t understand. Why would you want people to think you’re a womanizer?”

  “Mmm. I’m not at all confident I’m ready for that conversation,” he admitted, hoping she wouldn’t probe.

  “If you want a truce, I need to understand. What am I to think the next time I hear a rumor about you? I need to know everything.”

  He needed another pinch for this conversation. And another brandy. He sated himself with a fresh glass and a savory pinch before daring to continue.

  “One false rumor can ruin a man.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, feeling the prickle of sweat despite the chilly autumn air. “It only takes a single seed of doubt to taint an entire family for generations.”

  She huffed. “If what you’ve said is true, you’ve been the source of the false rumor.”

  “No, that’s not at all to what I’m referring.”

  Circling her hand in the air, she urged him to continue.

  “I’m referring to my father, not to me. Ah, where do I begin? His, er, reputation was nearly the undoing of the Annick name. We’re a proud family, you must understand. You see, my father was a violinist. His dream was to be recognized for his talent, but he never was, maybe for a lack of talent, maybe because of the reputation.” Drake cleared his throat. “How do I explain this? It only takes a single rumor, no matter how false, to ruin a man and his family. Dammit. I’m bumbling this.”

  To his surprise, she reached a hand to touch his arm, nodding for him to continue.

  “You already know I, too, play the violin,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “From an early age, my father filled my life with music, hiring tutors and the like. It would seem I had the talent he lacked. My mother protested to every lesson and every concert, accusing my father of, shall we say, feminizing me. As you know, both violin and harpsichord are women’s instruments. She wanted me not to follow in my father’s footsteps, but to aim for more, er, manly pursuits, something more fitting of a duke’s heir.”

  “Oh. I see,” she said, her hand still resting on his arm. “But why care what she thinks? Her opinion hardly matters if you know the truth.”

  “But it isn’t only her opinion. The entirety of the beau monde knew of my father’s less than savory company of fellow musicians.”

  She laughed. “That has nothing to do with you, though! And, besides, you’ve never cared a fig for what anyone thinks.”

  “Don’t I?”

  He stared at her, frowning, watching her expression change from incredulous to concerned. A gust of wind rustled through the roses and across the grotto, cooling the beads of sweat lining his forehead.

  Blotting his face with a kerchief, he said, “For all my proselytizing that I don’t care what others think, I do. The Annick line is a proud one, and I’ll not have anyone question my family or me. My mother has always feared my father’s sins would become my own. It only takes one rumor, Charlotte. One. When I was old enough to understand, I began handcrafting my reputation. I may have no interest in the life of a libertine, but the reputation suits me and ensures no one will ever question the Annick line. I value my reputation above all things in life and maintain it meticulously.”

  He sank lower in his chair and defensively set an ankle over one knee, affecting a casual demeanor although he desperately wanted to erect a barrier between himself and the words he had spoken so candidly to Charlotte. He only hoped the words wouldn’t come back to haunt him. His plan for today’s nuncheon had been for her to speak, not for him to confess secrets, and certainly not to admit such embarrassing truths.

  “You value what other people think above all things, including me,” Charlotte said, speaking so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Removing her hand from his arm, she said, “Yes, it is. It was more important to you to prove to the world you still had a mistress than it was to get to know your wife. I may understand your reasons, but I’ll not have you make a fool of me.”

  “That was never my intention. I’ll do whatever it takes. Give me a chance to make things right. I’m dreadfully sorry for everything, Charlotte. I’ve gone about everything terribly, but you must know I want to be a good husband. I’m incredibly attracted to you and want you to feel the same. What can I say that will convince you we deserve a fresh start?”

  She chewed on her lip.

  “Will you defend me to your mother?” she asked out of the blue.

  He wanted to laugh. Of all that he had just confessed and all he could do to show he was earnest, her first words were of his mother. Absurd!

  “I don’t see why I need to defend you. My mother isn’t a beast, you know. Aren’t the two of you getting along famously?” he asked.

  “No.” Charlotte’s spine straightened, her chin rising. “Why hasn’t she moved to the dower house?”

  “I suppose she wants to ensure you’re ready before she leaves you to run an entire estate.”

  “Am I of such low birth that I need constant supervision?” she asked. “If you care about me, you’ll stand up for me when she demeans me. Tell her not to monopolize every minute of my day.”

  “This isn’t my battle.” He raised his hands defensively. “I’m not going to argue with my mother, Charlotte. If you’re displeased with something, then stand up for yourself and tell her. She won’t respect you if I do it. Have you ever thought of telling her to sod off?” Drake said.

  “She’s your mother!” Charlotte stood from the table and made to leave.

  “Wait! Please, don’t go.” Drake stood up, as well, and put his hand on Charlotte’s arm to still
her. “I’m listening. Be patient with me. She’s not an easy woman to live with, but she will respect you more if you stand up to her. If I step in, she’ll only be displeased with us both and think you’re weak-willed. I’m not being harsh, truly.”

  He tugged at Charlotte to return to her seat.

  After some hesitation and more biting of the abused lower lip, she sat. The table took her attention for the next few moments until she decided to try one of the sandwiches.

  In an attempt to change the subject, he announced, “Sebastian is coming for dinner tonight.”

  She groaned.

  Drake chuckled into his brandy glass. After a swig, he said, “I’ll occupy him in the study for the evening. You should try liking him. He’ll be your brother-in-law before long, you know.”

  Charlotte’s head jerked towards him. “He most certainly will not! Don’t you dare start such rumors. Lizbeth would be horrified to hear you.”

  “I hate to tell you, Charlotte, but they’re besotted. Didn’t you pay any attention to them in London? Or did you have eyes only for me?”

  She grimaced. “They most certainly are not besotted. Lizbeth is a spinster, and it’s cruel of you to tease her. Besides, she would never be interested in someone like your cousin. The only reason they were in each other’s company in London was for our benefit. They tolerated each other at best.”

  Drake shook his head. “Your sister may call herself a spinster, but she’s still quite a catch.” At Charlotte’s raised eyebrow, he clarified, “Too bookish for me, of course. But not for my cousin. Did you know they have been corresponding since the Season?”

  “They most certainly have not! My sister would never correspond with a man who isn’t her betrothed! It’s simply not done. Don’t say such things.” Charlotte admonished him, placing the unfinished sandwich on her plate.

  “And since when have either of our relations followed decorum or social expectations?” He tipped back his glass to reward his silent victory with a drink.

  “Be that as it may, I cannot believe my sister would be interested in him.”