‘Well, what way was it exactly? Letters, clandestine visits? Hurried meetings after church or before parties?’ Thomas’s raised eyebrow was beginning to take on a suspicious air. ‘It can’t have been much time. How on earth did you manage to form a union so potent for Miss Pembroke to risk her reputation by asking you to dance, for God’s sake?’
If only an easy answer would come. If only any bloody answer would come. Robert attempted a smile, something non-committal and utterly inadequate hovering on his lips, before an unexpected crunch of carriage wheels from the street below had Thomas turning away.
‘Good Lord, who’s arriving at this hour? Did any of you have arrangements?’ Thomas looked narrowly at John, Henry and Edward, who all shook their heads. ‘It can’t be Dorothea—she’s at the pleasure garden with Honoria, waiting for me.’
John realised who it had to be just before the others did. A strange, vivid thrill of excitement filled him; he relaxed in his chair, digging his fingers into the arm in an effort to control himself.
‘Gentlemen.’ He paused patiently. ‘I think it’s fairly obvious who it is. And I also think it fairly obvious that she’ll wish to speak to me alone.’
‘She’s not the master of this house.’ Thomas’s tone darkened. ‘There are things I wish to have clarified, and if asking Miss Pembroke in your presence is the only way to do it—’
‘Then you can do it, and she’ll run to Dorothea and cry on her shoulder, embarrassed beyond measure by your boorish attitude.’ Robert suppressed a smile. Thomas cared little for the sensitivities of others, but any suggestion of his beloved wife being in the least bit disturbed caused him great concern. ‘Do you really want that?’
‘I can’t help but feel you’re being cunning. It’s not one of your best qualities.’
‘But I want very much to see Miss Pembroke alone.’ Robert realised that the words were true only as he was saying them. His excitement grew. ‘And unless you want an unhappy wife by association, Thomas, you’re going to let me do it.’
Charlotte had always looked at the Duke townhouse with a slightly smug air of judgement. For all their new-found wealth and determination to reach the upper echelons of London society, they didn’t appear to know how to have their weeds trimmed or bricks cleaned. Now, with memories of the previous night drifting through her mind in startlingly vivid colours, she looked at the ramshackle place with new eyes.
Not loving eyes, of course. Excited eyes. Yes, excitement—that was what she had felt with Robert moving her through the steps of the dance, his mouth a tight, irritated line as he had stared at her in utter confusion. Excitement and victory in equal measure, each one intoxicating.
The butler looked at her for a moment too long before gliding away. Charlotte smiled as she stood in the hall, sure that news of her boldness had made its way through the majority of the London servants.
The thought had a certain satisfaction. Her father could bluster all he wanted about her frivolous conduct, as he no doubt would—but he never went back on his word. A suitor was a suitor, and she had all but placed a target over Robert Duke’s heart for the entire ton to witness. Funds would remain forthcoming, and…
… and she would have to sustain the pretence of a romance with Robert. For a month at least. Now that she was staring down the barrel of that particular task, Charlotte found herself more perturbed by the scale of it that she had expected.
Footsteps from a nearby corridor neatly stopped her train of thought. She drew herself up to her full height, immediately sweeping into a gracious curtsey as the Duke brothers filed into the entrance hall. ‘Forgive my intrusion, sirs, but I—’
‘He’s in the study.’ Thomas Duke looked much grimmer than he did when Dorothea was with him. Charlotte restrained a gulp. ‘Jenson will lead you in.’
‘Thank you. I—’
‘Miss Pembroke, I am currently restraining myself to the utmost degree.’ Thomas glowered. ‘Believe me—when I have Robert alone for more than ten minutes, I’ll get to the bottom of just how gravely the reputations of our respective families have been risked. If necessary, I’ll speak to your father.’
Charlotte decided that no response was safe. She smiled as meekly as possible, bowing her head, ignoring the curious gazes of John, Henry and Edward as they slowly followed Thomas out of the front door. Only when it was shut, Jenson the butler gesturing to the distant study with a slightly frosty movement of his hand, did she let out a silent sigh of relief.
A few steps down a darkened corridor, and she was in the warm, cigar-scented confines of the study. Robert stood immediately; Charlotte stared at him for a long, confused instant, wondering why he seemed taller than usual, before she suddenly remembered to curtsey.
‘Leave us, Jenson.’ Robert’s smile to the butler was colder than usual. ‘But don’t go too far. The lady will be leaving soon.’
Jenson, perfectly correct, didn’t let a flicker of surprise pass over his face as he silently left the room. Charlotte tried to prepare for linguistic battle, imagining everything she could possibly say—but she couldn’t ignore the fire in Robert’s eyes, cold and burning as he approached her.
They stared at one another over the short distance that separated them, the air crackling with tension. When Robert finally spoke, Charlotte jumped.
‘I’d call you a damned snake, but you know that already. I’d say you’re mad, but you’re far too conniving to ever lose your senses.’ She’d never heard his voice like this, low and hard; it was oddly thrilling. ‘So tell me what the hell you think you’re playing at. Now.’
‘I’m sure you’ve understood the basics, even without me helping you along. A false courtship—a sham union. The waltz was indicative, I thought.’
‘A false what?’
‘Don’t make me repeat it. We can discuss the finer terms of the arrangement, if you want—but that’s the arrangement.’
‘An arrangement involves discussion. Compromise. I saw no evidence of that last night.’
‘You would have refused in any other place, at any other time.’
‘Shock doesn’t count as agreement.’
‘You’ve always disagreed most vocally in the past whenever I’ve attempted to be shocking.’
‘Tutting at you when we’re at one of Thomas and Dorothea’s picnics is very different from reacting to whatever was in your head last night. You’d clearly taken leave of whatever little native reason you have.’
‘I have enough native reason to put you on the back foot. It doesn’t take much.’ Charlotte resisted a smile as she let the statement rest. ‘But you still haven’t told me your thoughts. I do at least need to know how much you’re going to hate the arrangement over the next few weeks.’
‘I wish I could say I’m surprised. I wish I could say I’m horrified.’ Robert stared, sighing in a way that Charlotte found exceedingly irritating. ‘But this ridiculous plan of a false union, as ridiculous plans go, could have come from no-one else.’
‘Don’t pretend it isn’t well thought out. It only makes you look silly. Well—sillier than usual.’
‘Not as silly as this plan. You really have outdone yourself.’ Robert looked at her directly; Charlotte stared back, defiant, trying not to notice just how blue his eyes became in dim light. ‘You’ve picked the one man who has no qualms refusing you.’
‘On the contrary—I’ve picked the one man who can’t. I know you don’t give a damn about annoying your brother, but you don’t want to upset his new wife. No-one wants you to upset Dorothea.’ Charlotte smiled smugly. ‘Imagine how sad she’d be if this delightfully romantic coincidence turned out to be a sham.’
‘Of course you’d use your best friend in such a fashion.’
‘I’m not using Dorothea, and don’t you dare make such a cruel assertion. I’m going to tell her the plan anyway—she’s sure to see it as the piece of genius it is. If I’m using anyone, I’m using you.’
‘You’re not using me, because I’m not going to do it
.’
‘You’re refusing an arrangement that can only benefit your family socially.’
‘I don’t give a damn about benefiting my family socially. My reputation should have already made that clear.’
‘Visiting the occasional pleasure-house hardly makes for an irredeemable rake.’ Charlotte rolled her eyes. She had always believed wholeheartedly in the truth of that assertion, but found it surprisingly difficult to say when Robert was the pleasure house visitor in question. ‘You know as well as I do that the Pembroke name opens doors that others can’t.’
‘And if I’m already courting someone else?’
That idea was even harder to stomach than the pleasure house. Charlotte blinked, wondering why the concept of Robert pledging himself to another caused such revulsion before pushing the thought away. ‘Are you?’
‘No.’ The answer came very quickly. ‘But still.’
They stared at one another for a long, tense moment. Charlotte, clenching her fists in an attempt to stop her hands from trembling, realised that she had never spent so long in the direct company of Robert. Had certainly never stared at him for quite this long, at any rate.
Now wasn’t the time to begin looking at him, of course. Or noting how tawny his hair became in the candlelight, like an ever-shifting pattern of autumn leaves.
‘I’m not doing it.’ Robert’s voice was quieter now. ‘I’m not.’
‘You don’t even know why I’m doing it.’
‘I find it very difficult to care.’
‘I don’t care if you care, but you know that you’re curious. You’re the most incurable gossip, even if the gossip’s about you.’ The plan was slipping through her fingers now, and Charlotte couldn’t help but feel responsible. Robert had always been a formidable enemy, after all—she should have prepared more. ‘Don’t you want to know?’
‘I’m going to get no peace until you tell me, am I?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Then tell me.’
Now was the time for a sad story. A heartbreaking confession. But Charlotte, staring at Robert, knew that she couldn’t lie.
She was bad at lying anyway. Lying to Robert would require a level of calculation, of unfeeling cruelty, that she just didn’t have in her.
‘Well?’ The gentleness in Robert’s voice was unexpected. ‘Out with it. You seemed so desperate to tell me a moment ago.’
‘Because… because my father has threatened to cut off my funds if I don’t find a suitor. Unlike William, who can continue to lose vast amounts of money at every gaming table in London.’ Charlotte looked away as she spoke. ‘I know that makes me sound dreadfully grasping. I know it, and—and I’m not ashamed of it. I would be able to bear the conditions he has set upon me if the same ones were applied to William, but they’re not. He is free to be who he is and do what he likes, whereas—whereas I’m not. And so a suitor will be found, someone who understands the false nature of it all, until a more permanent solution is found.’
‘And when the permanent solution is found?’
‘An argument. Preferably in public. A month of pious loneliness, and then the cycle can begin again.’ Charlotte sighed. Now that she had vocalised it, she could see the greedy nature of it all. What a way to reveal her worst qualities in front of the one man who wouldn’t let her forget them. ‘That… that was the plan.’
The silence that followed was deeper than the previous one. Charlotte exhaled shakily, more than aware that Robert was still staring at her.
At least he’d lost the expression that made her feel as if she’d grown a second head. Now his eyes were softer, his gaze more searching.
‘Fine.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I’ll do it.’ Robert’s gaze never wavered. ‘But there are conditions.’
‘Name them.’
‘I don’t want to go to Almack’s. I loathe it.’
‘It’s the only way to meet the vast majority of London’s finest, but—but it’s your choice. No Almack’s.’
‘I don’t wish to be cooed over by your friends in St. James’s Park. If we are to promenade, we must choose other parks.’
‘I don’t like St. James’s Park anyway.’
‘And a donation.’
‘Beg pardon?’
‘A donation. Giving money to those less fortunate than yourself.’ The slightly scornful edge to Robert’s voice made Charlotte’s hackles rise. ‘I know it’s probably a foreign concept to you, but—’
‘Don’t you dare cast aspersions on the money I give, or don’t give.’ She sounded sharper than she had meant to—was it because, deep down, she was guilty at the frankly pathetic amount of money she gave to good causes as opposed to using it for buying fripperies? From the look in Robert’s eyes, he knew the shame she was concealing. ‘To where must I donate?’
‘Harrow Street Orphanage. The orphanage where my brothers and I grew up.’ Robert paused. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a child in that place with a pair of shoes that fit.’
He kept watch over where he grew up, waiting for the opportunity to help the place. She had always known he was stubborn and patient, biding his time to make the perfect sarcastic comment or cutting remark—but this displayed a tenderness that almost made her uncomfortable. ‘How much money?’
‘Enough to make your father tear his hair out.’
‘He has very little hair left.’ Charlotte smiled. ‘Enough for him to tear out the remainder, then.’
The silence that followed was different. Deeper. Perhaps because it was the first time they had ever truly agreed on something—or agreed to work together despite their differences. Perhaps because they were both tired and unwilling to fight further… or maybe, just maybe, because the light streaming in through the window made everything, including Robert’s face, look subtly gilded and distinguished.
‘Well.’ She felt obscurely disappointed, despite having obtained everything she wanted. She was almost sure that a flash of that same disappointment sparked in Robert’s eyes. ‘I suppose that’s it, then.’
‘I’ll be given orders as to when to appear, and what to say?’
‘Of course. I’ll invent something. Something with a crowd—you’ve never been all that shy about being looked at if the colours of your coats are anything to go by.’
‘Says the woman who wears clothes that cost a year’s wages.’
‘I’m not responsible for the price of gowns. Direct your ire to the men that own the mills.’ Charlotte curtseyed as abruptly as she could, turning. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Wait.’
‘And why should I wait?’
‘You’ve… you’ve forgotten something important.’
‘I rarely forget anything.’
‘How are we going to make this look convincing?’
‘...Convincing?’ The conversation had taken an unexpected turn; one that Charlotte wasn’t prepared for. ‘We hardly need to make it look convincing. This isn’t going to be advertised as a love match.’
‘I respectfully disagree. After the way you pressed me to dance with you last night, it’s going to be gossiped about as the love match to end all love matches.’
‘I think love may be a slightly ambitious adjective.’ The room had grown hotter; a dull flush was building at the base of her neck. Thank goodness she hadn’t removed her shawl. ‘They’ll be using a lot of adjectives close to it—none of them accurate.’
‘But they need to look accurate.’ Robert took a step closer. ‘And I don’t like doing things badly.’
‘All you need to do is look at me as if I’m the most beautiful woman in the room, and as if you don’t get irritated every time I speak. That can’t be too difficult, even for you.’
‘I’m not sure.’ Robert shrugged. ‘And… and won’t you have to pretend that I’m the most handsome man in the room as well? That’s going to be damned difficult for you.’
Not if you keep looking as you do in this exact moment, framed in golden sunlight. ‘
I don’t find play-acting difficult.’
‘Forgive me if I don’t believe you.’
‘I certainly will not forgive you. Do you really think I can’t feign an attraction for someone I feel complete indifference to? It’s the easiest thing in the world.’
‘You think everything’s easy because your life has been nothing but ease.’
‘That’s a pernicious falsehood, and you know it.’ Lord, no-one else made her as angry as he did. ‘I can pretend to—to favour you.’
He was closer than before. Or had she moved closer to him without thinking about it? ‘I doubt it.’
This happened every time they spoke. A strange, circular trap where they baited one another to peaks of rage, confounding one another until the sky outside thundered with annoyance. And today of all days, after the evening to end all evenings, there seemed to be no escape…
… Did he really think she couldn’t feign attraction? Feign—feign lust? He really was incorrigible. She’d show him.
She’d show him here and now.
‘Time to go, Miss Pembroke.’ Robert didn’t even bother bowing. ‘I have work to do—no doubt you have some trifle that needs hours frittering away on—’
He stopped, a muffled gasp of surprise vanishing into the ether as Charlotte kissed him. A kiss that was infinitely light, restrained, manageable—until it wasn’t.
Were kisses meant to be like galloping horses? Charlotte had always counted herself as an excellent rider; she could control any horse, no matter how large or powerful. A kiss was so much easier to keep control of… but no, this was something very different.
She gripped the collar of his coat, attempting to ground herself. Still, a part of her flew as Robert’s mouth pressed more tightly to hers, a heated, dizzying brand that tugged at somewhere deep in her core. No, she’d never felt like this riding—never felt every nerve of her tingle, her extremities aflame, the meeting of her thighs growing achingly sensitive with each skilled, passionate movement of his lips on hers, his tongue briefly, shockingly against hers—
Blushing in Blue: The Brothers Duke: Book Two Page 2
