What the Duke Wants

by Kristin Vayden

  She had no idea what exasperated truly felt like.

  “Yes, I heard about the bloody investment making a bloody return and giving her back her bloody financial independence and her going to settle everything at her bloody estate. What I want to know is why you couldn’t have her wait for me? I was obtaining a special license… Am I making myself quite clear?”

  “I—I wasn’t aware you had an understanding.”

  “Yes, well…”

  “When I spoke with her last night she didn’t imply…” She trailed off as if catching herself. Her eyes widened.

  “You did what? When? When did you speak to her?” Charles took another step forward.

  “I—I, well, I felt responsible.”

  “In what way could you have possibly shouldered any blame for—” He began to roll his eyes.

  “I told you to compromise her.”

  “Dear Lord.” He felt his face drain of blood. “You didn’t…” He couldn’t even think of a damning enough swear word to describe the wretchedness of the situation.

  “I—er… well I said that I felt responsible because I didn’t think you’d actually do it, and I said that since she left with her virtue intact, she should consider how much self-control you were exhibiting… oh bother… it sounds quite miserable when I re-tell it. But I swear it was quite eloquent last night.”

  “Bloody brilliant damning hell.”

  “That was quite a list.”

  “It’s not remotely long enough.” He wiped his face with his hands. “This is a disaster. I have no words. I… I don’t even know what to say.” He walked away. Of all the wretched things! No wonder she ran away as soon as possible! Hell, he’d have ran away from himself if the tables were turned.

  “But if you have an understanding, I mean you are engaged, aren’t you?” Lady Southridge was wringing her hands, trying to grasp at straws that would make the bleak and miserable situation somehow have a silver lining.

  There was no silver lining.

  Black. The horizon was black.

  Especially since he actually never asked her… simply told her that they’d marry.

  “You’re not answering,” Lady Southridge whispered.

  “No. I’m not.” Charles stared straight ahead, seeing nothing.

  “There’s no understanding, is there?” Lady Southridge whispered even softer.

  “I’m not sure. I rather told her about my plans to obtain a special license rather than ask for her hand.”

  “But… you said you loved her… right?”

  “No.”

  “What did you do?” Lady Southridge’s voice rose in volume. Charles turned towards her and saw her hands firmly on her hips, her lips in a grim line.

  “I kissed her quite senseless.” He was seriously wondering if it could get worse.

  “Men!” Lady Southridge threw her hands up in the air and walked a few steps away, then paused.

  “Berty, dear, this isn’t the time,” she spoke softly to the young girl, her tone kind.

  “Your grace, I heard something and Bethanny said I should tell you.”

  “Oh? What did you hear Berty?” Charles tried to calm himself and pay attention to the little sprite of a girl.

  “I followed Miss Lottie, but she didn’t see me. Just as her and that wretched man who took her away were about to walk outside, he said… well… it sounded like a viscount was meeting them at her home, to marry her.” Berty glanced down, her eyes brimming with tears. “She’ll never come back, will she your grace?” Berty burst into a sob, throwing herself at Lady Southridge’s legs and burying her face in her skirts.

  “There, there child. I’m sure she’ll be back. She never said anything to me—”

  “Why in the hell would she tell you?” Charles spoke darkly. Of course, things could get worse, why had he even asked?

  “Because, I don’t know. I—Berty? Did you happen to hear the viscount’s name?” Lady Southridge asked as she smoothed her hair away from her cherub-like face.

  “Banby? Darby? Something like that,” Berty replied, her words muffled by the skirts.

  “Darby?” he asked. Recalling the man associated with the title, Charles felt his blood run cold. Darby was from an old titled family, had more than enough wealth, a sterling reputation and was all around respectable. The blasted man was even decent to look at, or so he was told. In all truth, he was perfect for Carlotta.

  More honestly, he was everything that Charles was not, at least in the character department. Oh, he knew he had enough wealth and his title alone would recommend him, but character? He was severely lacking, that and self-control, and the ability to ask the woman he loved to marry him.

  Yes, that sin was at the top of his list right now.

  “Thank you, Berty. Can you please tell your sisters I’d like to speak with them?” Berty glanced up with shining eyes.

  “Yes, Lady Southridge.” She scampered off to find her sisters and Charles watched her, his soul completely hopeless.

  Just last night he was on top of the world, he didn’t even sleep but left at first light to secure a special license so that he could marry her before she had a chance to escape.

  Apparently, she had a chance to escape and took it.

  “This is an unforeseen road block.” Lady Southridge tapped her chin.

  “Road block? This is a bloody massacre.”

  “It’s not as if she’s married Darby already.”

  “But she should.”

  “What?”

  “She should. He’d be perfect for her.”

  “But—”

  “But I’m not… perfect for her. I can’t even remember to say I love you when it’s needed most. I fail at simple communication.”

  “But you feel it?”

  “Like Zeus’ lightning bolts every time I see her.”

  “Then why give up?”

  “I—

  “Your grace?” Bethanny asked, her soft voice tentative as she approached with her sisters.

  “Yes, Bethanny.” He sighed, numb.

  She glanced to her sister, Beatrix, then turned back to him, her eyes wide. “You have to go after her, your grace. I… I think she might be in danger.”

  “Danger?” Charles echoed; he fought between fear and disbelief. Mr. Burrows was anything but dangerous. “How so?”

  “She was quite distressed, she was… crying.”

  “Crying?” he asked, his eyes widening.”

  “Yes.” Bethanny nodded vigorously. “She was sobbing really, and that man, Mr. Burrows? He said something about her being too attached to us and… I’m not sure but it looked like he forced her into the carriage.”

  “He did what?” Charles felt his blood boil. Could it be? Was there perhaps hope? Not that he wanted her forcibly taken from his home, but maybe she didn’t actually want to leave in the first place!

  “So you see, you simply have to go after her, your grace. What if something horrible happens?” Bethanny was waving her hands about, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Lady Southridge, you say here at Greenford Waters. If Car—Miss Lottie returns before I do, keep her here. Am I understood?” He leveled his most stern gaze at the woman.

  “Yes, we’ll tie her up if need be.”

  “I doubt that will be necessary… but if it is, do it,” Charles amended.

  “Tibbs! Get over here man!” he bellowed down the hall. Tibbs rushed forward. “I need my horse ready immediately!” he shouted to the frenzied butler.

  “Yes, your grace.” Tibbs bowed then ran.

  Ran.

  “Charles, you don’t know where Garden Gate is!” Lady Southridge called after him as he rushed down the hall.

  “No, but I can ask. Surely, someone in Bath will know. I’ll ask Lord Whipple’s wife, she knows everyone around these parts.”

  “Very well, please… send word as soon as you know something.”

  “If I’m able. Now, excuse me.”

  Rushing to his room, his val
et helped him dress in fresh riding breeches and a warmer coat. Losing patience with his slow pace, he ran to the stables and mounted his chestnut stallion that had just been readied and was waiting. The magnificent beast pawed the earth, anxious to be off.

  Charles understood the feeling.

  Moments later, he was thundering down the lane towards Bath, praying that Lady Whipple was in residence and accepting visitors. He was a desperate man and was not above resorting to desperate measures. But in the interest of time, it would be far more expedient if she simply told him the information he needed to know.

  Less than two hours later, he was following the route given by Lady Whipple’s butler to the estate of Garden Gate. It was far closer than he anticipated, only a two hour ride from Bath. By his account, he had only an hour left of travel, which was providential since the sun was beginning to set lower in the western sky. As his horse galloped towards his destination, Charles gave his mind its freedom as well.

  A thousand different scenarios flashed through his head as he considered why Mr. Burrows had forced Carlotta’s departure from Greenford Waters.

  Was there a sinister side to Lord Darby? One that was hidden? Was Mr. Burrows using her for his own treacherous purposes? Charles felt that scenario quite unlikely, he had known the solicitor for many years, but just how well did he know him? Well enough to trust him? With his money and affairs, yes, with Carlotta? No. Truth was, he wouldn’t trust anyone with Carlotta.

  Including himself.

  But he was in love with her; that had to make up for his multiple sins in lacking to communicate that affection.

  At least he hoped.

  By the time he saw the modest estate in the distance, he had worked himself into a lather, both physically and mentally. Without hesitation, he dismounted as his horse skidded to a halt just before the front steps. Taking the stairs three at a time, he didn’t knock, but opened the door and strode in. His heels were loud on the tile floor, but he didn’t care. Let them know he was coming, let them quake in fear and wonder just what avenging force was coming for them.

  He heard voices and turned towards the sound, stopping short when he saw Carlotta, smiling.

  Laughing really.

  What hurt worse was that her smile which filled his veins with fire, and that laugh that stirred his very soul… fell silent as soon as she saw him.

  And for the first time since riding out to rescue her, he entertained the miserable thought that perhaps, she didn’t need him after all.

  Maybe he just needed her.

  Maybe he was the one in need of rescuing.

  Damn.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carlotta stared. Then blinked. Then stared again. And just for good measure, she blinked again, twice.

  He was still there, standing like an avenging angel and appearing like a wild savage with his dark hair windblown and his clear eyes piercing through to her very soul. Even from across the room, she felt his presence. It overwhelmed her senses, blinding them to anything, anyone but him.

  She could even smell him.

  Why was he here? She knew he wouldn’t have been pleased with her leaving, especially with what had transpired the night before, but… shouldn’t he be grateful that she was now a woman of means? He didn’t have to do the right thing anymore; she was able to care for herself.

  Unless he didn’t know that.

  But she doubted that Lady Southridge would have kept that information from him. A more meddlesome, but kind, woman she’d never met.

  And to think, Charles called her a soul of discretion.

  Ha.

  “Your grace?” she asked, her gaze fusing with his. Melting into it.

  Owning the truth she saw there.

  Possession, pure and simple.

  He came because, as far as he was concerned, she was his.

  It was written all over his expression, in the hunger in his gaze, the power of his stance.

  It easily could have made her angry, even offended that he thought she was in such desperate need of saving.

  But it didn’t.

  Rather, it gave her the most overwhelming desire to hike up her skirts and run into his arms, knowing full well the moment she did, he’d be running towards her as well.

  She stood then took a step forward only to be reminded of her guest’s presence by the surprised welcome of Mr. Burrows.

  “Your grace. What a surprise!” Mr. Burrows stood as well and walked over to the still quite savage looking duke.

  “Mr. Burrows,” he responded politely, but he never moved his gaze from her.

  “Clairmont.” Lord Darby stood as well, nodding his hello.

  “Darby.” The duke nodded again, still not removing his gaze from Carlotta.

  “Would you please excuse us—” Carlotta began to speak, glancing to the other gentlemen it was easy to see the confusion and curiosity in their expressions.

  “You left,” the duke interrupted, taking a step forward. His voice captivated her attention and again, the room closed in till all that remained was her awareness of him.

  “Yes.” She could have said any number of excuses, but her will to fight left her. It seemed like that’s exactly what she had been doing the entire time she’d known him. Run away. Thousands of reasons, good reasons, to avoid him, keep him at arm’s length and reject even the slightest hope of having him. But with him chasing her to Garden Gate, not caring who saw the heat of his expression that was only for her, it melted her frozen resistance like the spring sun over snow.

  And like that, her heart melted, as well as all of her excuses.

  “Why… no. I can answer that question and the blame lies at my own feet.” He shook his head slightly, his expression changing from the fierce passion of ownership of her very heart, to one of self-derision.

  Carlotta ached for the pain apparent in his expression. Pain that she had caused in her efforts to protect her heart.

  But what about his heart?

  Who had been protecting it? For the first time she looked at the opposite side of things, much like Lady Southridge had explained last night. As if looking in a mirror, the entire view changed, righted itself and Carlotta realized just how much of a fool she had been.

  But no longer.

  When she had seen his reputation, he had been protecting hers by removing her from his gasp.

  When she saw his title, he had lowered himself to love a servant.

  When she questioned his honor in kissing her, he blamed himself for being so weak.

  When she saw him compromising her to force her hand, he used the self-control of a saint, everything his very reputation testified against, and preserved her virtue even when she wasn’t inclined to being virtuous.

  “I never asked, I never said the right words. For one being known for saying all the right things, I’m pitifully miserable at speaking them to you. Carlotta, Lottie, my Lottie. I love you.” Holding his hands out he waited, a man facing his uncertain destiny.

  A destiny he had given her complete control over.

  “I left this morning to get a special license for an occasion I failed to invite you to attend. You see…” He took another step forward, his gaze growing in determination, in resolve. “I seemed to forget to ask you a very important question last night.” Another step forward, yet it felt like he was walking through the door to her heart, not knocking but simply walking through the door as if it never had existed in the first place.

  And maybe it never had. Maybe… maybe he held the key all along and she never stopped resisting his love long enough to think of the possibility.

  “Yes?” she felt herself ask. Her heart began to gallop within her, causing her body to tremble with a hope she never dreamed to unleash.

  He glanced down and stepped around a settee, each step full of purpose… full of promise. “You have the impertinent habit of robbing me of all rational thought and I’ve never been as thoroughly overjoyed with a surprise as I was last night. I feel compelled to
apologize for not asking you sooner, for being lost in the moment, as it were, and neglecting to speak my heart rather than simply acting on it. Carlotta, I’d ask you to marry me, but really, I’m quite accustomed to getting what I want. And if you refuse me, I’m warning you that I will likely create a scene. So rather, I’m asking you to take pity on me, and save me from my wretched self and marry me. Not because I deserve you, not because I’m a duke, or because I’m wealthy, but because I know that if you met me and I was penniless, you’d love me the same. Like you love me now, but won’t admit.”

  “Create a scene?” she couldn’t help but ask. A smile stretched across her face at the idea of the infamous, notoriously sinful Duke of Clairmont hanging propriety for the love of a governess. It was the stuff romantic dreams were made of.

  Her romantic dreams.

  That had somehow made it out of her dreams and into her real life.

  “I’ll simply have to compromise you. Believe me I have very credible witnesses.” He gave a daring smile and mischievous nod to the gentlemen in the room.

  “See here! There’s no call to treat the lady in such a way!” Lord Darby’s voice interrupted her sweet interlude, her secret satisfaction at the duke’s willingness to create that much of a scene.

  Never had she ever considered compromising so… romantic.

  “Please, my lord.” She held up her hand, sparing him only a slight glance before turning back to the duke. His eyes glowed with victory, a bright triumph shining from his expression. It was fierce and passionate, possessive and wild, full of love.

  Love for her.

  “Surely you can’t stand by and allow—”

  “Actually, Lord Darby, though his grace’s reputation suggests otherwise, I have it on good authority that his intentions are quite noble, and have been for quite some time,” Mr. Burrows commented.

  “Carlotta?” the duke whispered her name.

  Closing her eyes, she let the sound wash over her, owning the sound of his voice.

  Tears pricked in her eyes as she considered just how close she had come to losing him.

  “You’re taking too damn long,” he swore, his tone causing her eyes to flutter open only to find him striding towards her quite purposefully. A moment later he was crushing her to him, drinking in the passion of her kiss, demanding she surrender.