What the Duke Wants

by Kristin Vayden

  “It’s quite a lovely day, is it not? Carlotta commented lightly as she buttered a square of toast.

  “Indeed.” Bethanny smiled sweetly.

  “Since it looks as if it might not rain… would you girls like to head to town today?”

  Three gasps met her ears. “Truly? Truly Miss Lottie?” Berty bounced in her seat, all traces of her lethargy gone.

  “Yes. It’s a fine day and you’ve been very patient to wait till we were settled in.”

  “Can we see the Crescent? And the baths?” Beatrix asked.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Can we perhaps shop?” Bethanny inquired.

  “And have a picnic?” Berty asked, her voice a high pitch in her excitement.

  “We shall see. I’ll give you an hour after breakfast to ready yourselves. Wear sturdy shoes. While we will be given the convenience of his grace’s carriage, we will also be walking quite a bit.”

  “Yes, Miss Lottie.” The girls nodded.

  Breakfast was finished in record time and soon they were making their way to the city.

  The air was thick with moisture and heavily scented with salt. They crossed the Avon River and clipped their way into the bustling city.

  “Where are we to go first?” Bethanny asked excitedly.

  “I asked the coachman to drive us around a bit. There’s a few places I’d like to show you. Just because were taking a break from your usual studies, doesn’t mean we’re skipping our lessons entirely.”

  The girls groaned but it was halfhearted, they were far too delighted to take in all the sights.

  As for Carlotta, her heart pinched yet soared at seeing someplace so familiar. Bath was the closest and largest city to Garden Gate. She couldn’t count the times she visited. There were a few shops she’d have to avoid for risk of being recognized, as far as beyond that, she was quite certain she would blend in.

  “Girls, look to your right. That is the Abby. It was once a Norman church that was built up on a pre-existing foundation. As you can see, most of the buildings are a golden brown color. That’s the bath stone, quarried locally. You’ll also see your fair share of limestone.” Carlotta spoke in her best governess voice, watching her charges eyes widen as they studied the flying buttresses and piercing parapets of the golden colored Abby.

  “It’s quite fascinating,” Beatrix stated. “History and architecture is far more interesting when you can actually see it.”

  “Yes,” Berty agreed. “Now where are we going?”

  “Next, we’ll go through the Circus. Its design was inspired by the Roman Colosseum, but differs in one unique way. While the Colosseum was intended to be seen from the outside, the Circus was intended to be viewed from the inside. It’s built in a circular shape with three entrances. Upon entering, you’ll notice that the façade of the building is exactly the same no matter where you look.”

  “How do you know so much about this, Miss Lottie?” Berty asked, her nose scrunched up as she asked.

  “I grew up not too far from here,” Carlotta answered honestly. She had no need to hide that information from the girls.

  “You did? Where?”

  “Perhaps I’ll take you there to visit sometime, but not today. Now, let’s talk about the Crescent.”

  Carlotta spoke about all the different buildings, their stone and history, until they came to Sydney Park.

  “How beautiful!” Berty exclaimed as they alighted from the carriage. Carlotta waited for the footman accompanying them to carry the picnic hamper. Ducks called as they made their way to a grassy spot near the river.

  “Look at the ducks!” Beatrix called out, waving her hand for her sisters to join her at the edge of the river. Carlotta noticed how they were very careful not to get their shoes muddy.

  “Here, try this.” Carlotta reached into the hamper and pulled out a biscuit. She broke off a piece and handed a portion to each girl. “Toss it in.”

  The girls obeyed then squealed with delight when the ducks splashed and quacked, trying to get the free food before their comrades did.

  “They must not like each other,” Bethanny teased. Her beautiful face lighting up in a smile.

  Carlotta tilted her head slightly, studying the young lady. She was not much younger than herself. With soft chestnut hair and beautifully deep eyes, Bethanny would draw the attention of many suitors. But not just yet, and for that, Carlotta was thankful, as she imagined the duke should be also. The young woman needed time to mend, to find herself after the painful loss of her parents. Time would help her heal, and then she’d have the strength to take London by storm.

  After their lunch, they wandered Pultney Bridge and the shops that lined it. Careful to avoid the particular shops that could potentially recognize her, Carlotta steered her charges to different venues.

  On their way back to Greenford Waters, Berty fell asleep, her sweet body resting against Carlotta as she rested peacefully.

  “Thank you,” Bethanny said quietly, her eyes sliding over to her sister’s sleeping form.

  “For?” Carlotta whispered.

  “For today. I—I’ve had a governess before, Miss Lottie. Believe me when I say that none of them ever treated me as you do. For that I’m thankful.”

  “Of course… I’m happy to. But I don’t think I’m any different from another governess.” Carlotta spoke humbly.

  “Yes, yes you are,” Bethanny whispered, looking to Beatrix.

  “Miss Lottie, our other governesses taught us well, just as you do. It’s more of the way you are when you are not teaching us,” Beatrix explained.

  “Oh? And how is that?”

  “You treat us as family.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Charles, are you ready yet? I do think you take longer to depart than a green debutante. If I hadn’t been suspicious that you fancied this governess of yours, I’d be convinced now.” Lady Southridge spoke dryly as she waited in the library and Charles gave his footmen final instructions.

  “Just because you arrive early doesn’t give you the right to cast judgment,” he ground out.

  All morning his nerves had been frayed, his mind overworked with the anticipation and anxiety of seeing Carlotta again. His lack in ability to control his emotions was testing his patience and the last thing he needed was the dry sarcasm of Lady Southridge.

  “I’m not an advocate of drinking spirits before noon, but I do think that perhaps you should have a glass of brandy, your eyes look positively wild.”

  “If I need brandy it’s because I’ll be in a carriage for the next two days with you,” Charles muttered, but nevertheless poured himself a glass of brandy. Sipping it, he felt its warming trail to his stomach profoundly comforting. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and forced his mind to focus.

  “See? I knew it would help.”

  “Remind me again why you are coming?” Charles asked as he turned to face Lady Southridge.

  “I was invited.”

  “I don’t remember that part of our conversation.” Charles raised an eyebrow. “I rather thought you invited me to my own estate. But that can’t be accurate,” he replied wryly.

  “I distinctly remember my presence being necessary.” She sniffed delicately.

  “Which is far different than an invitation.”

  “Do you want me to explain, again, why I want to spend time with your wards? Because I’m surely able to list the reasons both you and Graham should have married by now producing Lord knows how many heirs given both your reputations,” she challenged.

  “I do believe I hear Murray. He must be coming to tell us the carriage is ready.” Charles cleared his throat, his cravat seeming oddly tight. Lady Southridge’s threat had hit its mark. The last thing he wanted to do was find himself in the middle of one of her matchmaking schemes.

  Hearing about his ability to procreate was quite low on the list as well. Especially when approaching the topic with one viewed as a parent figure. Scratch that. It was definitely
at the top of the list of things he never wanted to discuss, ever, with Lady Southridge.

  Ever, ever.

  However, he wouldn’t mind discussing the topic with Carlotta.

  He swallowed as he ducked into the hall. Murray wasn’t anywhere to be found, but he hadn’t expected to see him. He’d only mentioned him in desperation to change the subject of conversation.

  He only hoped Lady Southridge didn’t bring up the topic once they were in the carriage. He’d have no escape but to fling himself from the moving carriage.

  But if she began speaking about his ability to produce offspring, he would be sorely tempted.

  Charles walked a few steps down the hall, his mind wandering. It would take them almost two days to get to Greenford Waters. It was one of his favorite estates and its large landholding was the reason he sent the girls to that location. He had spent most of his boyhood in that home, and it carried fond memories for him still. It had been too long since he’d returned and he found himself anticipating their departure even more.

  Of course, that Carlotta was in residence was an added siren call that couldn’t be denied. He’d have to watch himself, closely. Not only did he not want to repeat the same mistakes he made earlier, but he’d have a witness: Lady Southridge.

  The woman had a memory like an elephant.

  Good Lord, this was going to be a nightmare.

  “Your grace? The carriage is ready.” Murray approached him from behind, bowing slightly.

  “Very well. Please attend Lady Southridge. I’ll meet her at the carriage.”

  Murray nodded and left, his back straight and tall as he walked to the library to alert Lady Southridge.

  Charles strode to the circular drive where the carriage waited, pulled by his prized Blood Bays. The horses waited patiently, shaking their heads and chewing the bit.

  Once seated in the well-sprung carriage, he closed his eyes.

  “You’re not fooling me. I know you’re not asleep already. You aren’t that old.” Lady Southridge commented as she settled on the plush bench.

  “Not sleeping, praying.”

  “For?”

  “Deliverance.”

  She snorted.

  “I do believe that was a snort. How unladylike,” Charles commented, opening his eyes and regarding her.

  “When one speaks something so absurd, sometimes the only polite thing to do is snort. Any words I would have said would have been far less lady like.” She shot back, a grin teasing her lips.

  “Very well.”

  She leaned forward, as if about to disclose a great secret. “And for the record. I’ve been praying for deliverance as well… God keeps telling me to wait. At this point, I’m sure I’ll be near death. But I have hope for you still.”

  “My heart beats with joy at your faith in me.”

  “Someone has to hold on to hope for your blackened soul,” she quipped.

  “How far is it to Bath, again?” Charles sighed heavily, glancing heavenward.

  “As if you don’t have the miles counted already. Less than two days, darling. If I were you, I’d worry less about enjoying my pleasant company and more about important matters.”

  “Such as?” Charles felt his eyebrow raise, his tone dubious.

  “Such as whom you shall marry this season.” She beamed and leaned back, her eyes bright with hope.

  Bloody blooming damning hell.

  “Swearing in your mind is just as much of a sin as speaking it out loud Charles,” Lady Southridge chided. “Besides, do you really think I’m going to let you and Graham get away with your bachelor status for much longer? Both of you have a responsibility to produce an heir. I’ve reminded you both often enough that there is not a possible way you’ve forgotten, so I must simply assume that you need help.” She leaned back, her expression full of assurance and… pity.

  When one thought of hell, certainly fire, brimstone, and torture sprang to mind. The torture was indeed correct, but Charles was sure that hell looked a lot like his carriage and the devil looked like Lady Southridge.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It’s the only possible conclusion.” She shrugged delicately.

  “I fail to see your logic,” Charles whispered hoarsely. He was still recovering from the idea that Lady Southridge thought he needed… help. Good Lord.

  “Neither you nor Graham seem to have the slightest inclination—”

  “Ah-ha! You said inclination! That implies that we are choosing to, rather than doing so out of necessity! You’re logic is faulty.”

  “You know it’s rude to interrupt. I’ll pretend you did not. As I was saying…” She pierced him with a steely glare. “While no one in London with ears can argue that you’ve had your fair share of… experience with women—”

  “How delicately put.” Charles grinned.

  “When one is dealing with the decidedly indelicate, there is no other way to do it,” she replied. “Are you finished interrupting? While we have two days, I’m not fond of continuing one topic of conversation the entire length of the trip.”

  “Forgive me, continue.” Charles gestured to her, holding out his hand and nodding.

  “Thank you. Now, as I was saying, while you certainly don’t lack in the experience department, you do lack in the longevity department.”

  “I can—”

  “I don’t want to know.” She gave him a withering glare.

  Charles chuckled. He was about to say that he had never once been told he lacked in the longevity department. Not once.

  “I’m speaking of the length of your liaisons. They are abysmally short and not with the type of women that someone of your status should consider as a wife.” She nodded.

  Charles felt the humor drain from him. He wondered what she’d think of the idea of him falling for a governess. However, she seemed to suspect it. Again, he was confused.

  Blasted bloody woman.

  Maybe she was jesting… perhaps she thought he was not sincerely at risk at falling for her. And if she were to learn the truth…

  First, she’d think he was joking. Then she’d stare at him as if he had lost his mind. Which, he would have to wonder himself. After she got past the shock, she’d enter into a lengthy lecture on why it was completely insupportable.

  He took a deep breath. He couldn’t win. He was not to consort with the type of ladies that were readily available, nor could he be tempted to marry the one woman who seemed to manage that impossibility.

  Hell.

  “Charles? I do say, you’ve gotten quiet. Don’t hurt yourself with all that thinking,” Lady Southridge mocked.

  Charles pulled his attention back to her. There was a slight smile in her eyes that negated the sarcasm in her voice.

  “And what, pray tell, are you planning to do about all of this?” Charles asked. Better to get her plotting out in the open.

  “This season, I’ll compile a list of suitable women. Now, before you object—”

  Charles had just opened his mouth,

  “I will be very selective. You won’t have to worry about a silly chit that thinks batting her eyelashes will land her a duke. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “But I know of a few ladies who would be fantastic matches for someone of your status and who can carry on intelligent conversation.”

  “Miracles do happen.” Charles sighed.

  “Indeed,” Lady Southridge commented wryly.

  ****

  The carriage ride was miserable, everlasting and Charles had seriously considered throwing his person from comfortable coach just to make the torture end. However, once he considered that his torture might just be beginning, should he end his life —after all, hell wasn’t known for its luxury and peace and that’s surely where he’d find himself— he considered throwing Lady Southridge from the carriage. She was light enough, but with his luck, she wouldn’t die. Nope. She’d live, her legs and arms might not work but her mind, voice certainly would, and that would be far
worse than any eternal carriage ride with her.

  Funny how a person could love someone, yet still wish she would disappear.

  Greenford Waters began to come into view and Charles exhaled the largest sigh he’d ever heard, from himself or anyone else for that matter.

  “I haven’t been that bad.” Lady Southridge sniffed.

  “Of course not,” Charles responded, feeling much more charitable since the end was in sight.

  “Well, I might have meddled some…” She waved a gloved hand as if it were a trivial matter.

  “Some?” Charles felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop. Some was a gross and pathetic understatement.

  “Well, yes.”

  “I seemed to have missed when you went from some to obscenely meddling. Or maybe I fell asleep and imagined you listing every deb this coming season and all their attributes, family history and shortcomings. Bloody hell, I do believe that was my worst nightmare ever.” Charles spoke with thick sarcasm.

  “No need to be short with me, Charles. I gave you fair warning. You and Graham must find suitable wives. You’re not taking the job seriously, so I am offering my assistance.”

  “I also missed the part where you offered rather than sentenced me.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Charles.”

  “I rather thought it made me dashing and dangerous. You know, what drives all the debutantes wild with wanting to redeem me from my sinful and cynical ways.”

  “You’ve deluded yourself.”

  “Here I thought I was the paragon of wisdom.”

  She sighed heavily. “If I didn’t feel such a responsibility to care for you and Graham—”

  “I relieve you of all responsibility.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “As I was saying. If I didn’t feel such a responsibility for you and Graham, I would leave you to your wicked and worthless ways, but I find I cannot. Not when I have the power to help.”

  “God help me.”

  “I’ll take that as a prayer.”

  “You may count it as such. I don’t think I’ve ever whispered more reverent words in all my days.”

  She raised an eyebrow and turned her attention to the window. Greenford Waters was a beautiful stone mansion that had been in his family since the Tudors. It was solid and firm, like his title. Or so his father use to say. Just seeing the circular drive and the forest beyond brought back a million memories of his boyhood, eliminating the tension in the air from Lady Southridge’s meddling.