She dared a glance at his face and warmed at his gentle smile. The sun threw highlights into his wavy hair, letting her see it was dark brown, not black as she’d imagined. His eyes were framed by dark brows, fine lines in the corners showing he smiled more than he let on. Charlotte’s lips quivered as they stretched into an answering smile. “Thank you, sir. I believe I shall be able to finish the match on my own.”
Langley motioned toward the rest of the players, who were returning their mallets to the footmen. “I believe the match has ended. Perhaps tomorrow we can play again.”
Lord Pembrook came to stand at her other side, folding his arms across his bright gold waistcoat and brown coat. “I believe it’s time for some refreshments, don’t you, Langley?”
“I’m sure the Duchess has that well under control,” he responded evenly.
“Yes, but Lady Charlotte might appreciate some lemonade after her walk about the lawn.” Pembrook tilted his head in her direction.
“Of course, forgive me,” Langley said. “I shall fetch you a glass.”
She stepped toward the house, away from the gentlemen. She didn’t want Langley singling her out for attention. Didn’t want to give him the chance to say something he couldn’t take back. “Oh, please don’t trouble yourself, sir. I can go with the others.”
“I’m your host. Nothing would give me more pleasure than making certain you enjoy your time at Hawking Hall.”
He played the part too well. What was he really thinking? Charlotte took another step away, uncertain how to behave. She just couldn’t bring herself to be rude, even to convince him she was not interested in his attentions. “How can I not enjoy myself? Your gardens are among the finest in Hampshire. Your home is equal to any King George might own, I imagine.”
Langley hitched his coat back on one side and rested his hand on his hip, apparently forgetting his offer of refreshment. He seemed deep in thought as he studied her. There was nothing in his manner to even hint at what could be running through his mind, but her instincts had her ready to flee.
Without speaking, Langley offered her his arm and when she took it, they began to stroll toward the house with Pembrook following discretely a few paces behind. “I have a proposition that would be mutually beneficial to us. I won’t waste your time with exposition on the benefits versus deficits, but shall come straight to the point. I am in need of a wife, and I believe you would be well-suited to being a duchess.”
Charlotte snapped her jaw shut before her lips parted, thankfully, so she wasn’t caught gaping like a fish. Had the duke really just proposed to her? Her sister and friends had given her a completely different impression of what to expect when that most anticipated event took place. Where was the mention of undying love, the expressions of longing to spend the rest of their lives in romantic bliss?
He hadn't compared her eyes to tide pools, or her hair to silk. Not once did he mention her complexion or smile. Severely disappointed, there was no way Charlotte could welcome such a proposal, especially since there was no mention of affection. Her mother would faint if she ever found out what she was about to do.
Charlotte must pretend this was a discussion of her qualities, if she could keep a straight face. Then slip away as if she felt the discussion was at an end. "That is very generous of you to say so, Your Grace. My mother will be pleased all her years of instruction were not wasted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe the others have gone inside."
Chapter Two
Charlotte grew uncomfortably warm when Pembrook broke out in a coughing fit that plainly was an attempt to cover his laughter. The duke grabbed her arm before she could make her escape.
Langley glared over his shoulder at his friend. "Would you excuse us, Pembrook? I wish to speak to the lady alone."
"Of course. I shall go fetch her maid to chaperone. Don’t be long. You don’t need the hint of scandal surrounding your marriage." He bowed to Charlotte with a flourish of his hand. "May I say before I go, I find myself quite smitten with the lady?"
Charlotte smiled and looked away, too embarrassed at the idea there was a witness to her audacity. She had just turned down an offer of marriage from the most eligible man in all of England.
“Sir, I must insist on joining the others. I cannot remain alone with you.” While they were in plain site of the morning room windows, her mother would chastise her for causing the slightest scandal. Not to mention the very real fact she could be forced to marry the man simply because they’d been seen together like this.
Oh, what an unexpected quandary she found herself in! The moment she’d come here for was upon her and she felt nothing but the desperate need to flee. The only certain thing at this moment was she wasn’t in love with the Duke of Langley, but merely a fanciful version of him. Some ladies were suited to making the best of an opportunity such as this and would leap at his suggestion that they suited each other. Some would squeal with glee and run for their mamas with the exciting news.
Charlotte was not one of those girls. No matter how levelheaded she tried to be, she couldn’t look at the positive side of this. As the Duchess of Langley she would be one of the most powerful ladies of the ton. She would have cachet in London, and any assemblies she threw would be a most sought-after invitation. She would have money, the finest of gowns, possibly even her own carriage. She could probably convince Langley to sponsor some of Jonathan Foster’s experiments, which would bring Alison great joy.
Yet none of that would fulfill Charlotte, although seeing her sister’s increased happiness would come close. Even a home ringing with the laughter of her own children wouldn’t be an adequate replacement for love.
Charlotte could never marry a man who didn’t love her, no matter what titles he held.
Searching her thoughts, she tried to determine what to say to Langley, as he was obviously going to push the matter. She doubted telling him the truth—that she wished to marry for love—would suffice. It certainly wouldn’t hold water should her mother hear of this.
Langley stood with his hands clasped behind his back gazing in the direction of the large, ornate stone fountain, as though he were unable to face her. "Did I misunderstand your situation? Is there a beau you are hoping to marry? I understood the ladies present were all free to marry."
"No, sir. There is no one." The words clasped around her heart and squeezed. She drew in a deep breath. Up until a month ago when he’d almost proposed to Alison, Langley had been the only resident of her dreams. But she'd wakened to an ugly truth. Langley could never love her.
And now she knew he wasn't even looking for love. He needed a duchess, a wife to provide him an heir. Any suitable applicant was being considered. She needed to stand firmly against this idea of marriage to him, speak to him in terms he understood. “Still, I do not consider myself a good prospect for the position you are seeking to fill.”
He looked down at her, his hooded eyes guarding his thoughts. "Is it the role of duchess that concerns you? My mother is looking forward to teaching my wife what is expected of her. You won't be thrown to the wolves."
"I hadn't even considered that." Charlotte merely wanted to be a wife and mother, and hadn’t thought much about what her station would be. The duties that fell to her no matter whom she married were an easy price to pay in exchange for a loving, happy family.
"Does the difference in our ages concern you?" Langley asked.
"No, I don't feel you are all that old. It’s not as though you have a houseful of children you expect me to raise."
His dark brows drew together and the line between them deepened. "You don't wish to have children?"
Her smile at the thought of her own children relaxed the tension in her face. "I look forward to children, sir. That is my greatest wish."
Langley’s eyes narrowed, and his face puckered as if he’d sucked a lemon. His voice sounded just as bitter. "It is me, then. You don't care if you marry a duke, but you have no desire to marry this duke."
She clasp
ed her hands together in front of her to hide how they shook. She'd known of this man for years and had seen him about, but she didn't know him at all. The Duke of Langley who resided in her wool-filled mind was a fiction she’d created to compensate for the lack of attention from other men. Once she’d been old enough to dine with the guests her father invited to their home, she had quickly noticed she garnered nothing more than a passing glance from the gentlemen. Most were scientists, and Charlotte had no interest in the sciences, so she had little to converse with them about.
At least she had known what excited those men. Their love for their work proved them capable of loving something. Had Langley loved Elle? Theirs had been an arranged betrothal, but he might have come to love her. If he still had feelings for her, he might not be open to falling in love again. The pain might still be fresh. Yet what a disastrous, tragic life Charlotte would lead if she went into a marriage thinking he might one day fall in love, and it never happened.
Charlotte forced herself to be strong. One thing mattered most in choosing her husband, and she must be firm in settling for nothing less. "My concern is that you say nothing of love. You cannot claim to have an affection for me when you know nothing about me, and I cannot marry a man who doesn’t love me."
He met her gaze and she noticed his eyes were so dark a brown they were almost black. Deep wells that had always seemed haughty. It was now clear he looked that way when he was deep in thought. A minor difference, since he excluded those around him either way, but one pushed people away, where the other was introspective.
She liked the ability in a man to consider his deeper thoughts and not simply say what polite society expected. That didn’t strengthen her resolve to keep the duke at arm’s length.
Langley shrugged. “Few marriages among our peers begin with love. That doesn’t mean the parties don’t eventually find it.” When Charlotte tilted her head with a frown, he continued. “Since my father arranged a betrothal on my behalf, I never gave any consideration to love.”
“I see.” Her disappointment was hard to keep inside.
“Is this the only objection you have to marrying me?”
Charlotte chewed her lip. Langley was not a bad man, nor was he ugly. Nor destitute, nor were there any rumors of cruelty about him. He would make some woman an adequate husband. Meeting his gaze, she nodded. “What of you, Your Grace? What do you want from a wife?”
His head pulled back as his brows drew together. “No one has ever asked me that question.”
“I am asking.” She needed to hear what he truly felt, not what she hoped he’d say. It was highly unlikely he’d wish for a wife who preferred to spend her time in the library rather than paying morning calls to just the right people, but at least she might learn if she was the sort of woman with whom he might eventually fall in love. Charlotte held back the sigh that threatened to escape. Perhaps she could help him choose among the other ladies if she knew what he sought.
The corner of Langley’s mouth turned up and the crease of his brow faded. “I should call you impertinent, but I will try my best to answer. After all, I have promised to entertain my guests. Very well, let’s see. The new Duchess of Langley will be required to tolerate me as a husband, and I don’t know what sort of husband I will be. She will continue as my mother has done, collecting clothing for the poor, taking baskets to sick or needy tenants.”
She waited for him to go on, and when he didn’t, she asked, “That’s all?”
“There’s entertaining required, both here and in Town, but as I said, my mother will teach my wife everything she needs to know.”
He had to be the most unromantic man she’d ever met—not that she’d met many men. Nor had she conversed with them beyond the weather and recent performances at the King’s Theatre. She itched to throw her hands into the air and simply walk away. How vexing he was with his vague responses. Folding her arms across her chest, she fought to keep her tone even. “If all you need is a trainable female, one of my father’s hounds would suit.”
Langley laughed loudly, a rich sound that sent shivers coursing through Charlotte. “There is the matter of being from the right family.”
“Father chooses his breeding pairs quite selectively.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. This was an unexpected lark—teasing a duke. Perhaps if she’d felt confident enough speaking to the gentlemen in London, she wouldn’t be in this situation.
What was she thinking? This was the moment she’d been waiting for her entire life. The Duke of Langley wanted her to be his wife. Why couldn’t she just forget her dreams and say yes?
“I’m beginning to understand why you didn’t find a husband in your first Season.” He lowered a brow rather severely.
Now it was Charlotte’s turn to laugh louder than polite company permitted. He looked so much like Papa in that moment. “You see? I would make a poor duchess. My mother is forever chiding me for speaking too plainly. You are already regretting your offer, if that is truly what you were suggesting. Have no concern, I will not let on you said anything.” She began to walk up the cobblestone path to the manor, eager to escape the man before she remembered how much she had once wanted to be his duchess.
Falling into step beside her, Langley held out his arm once more, and when she wrapped her fingers around his coat sleeve he tucked her hand against his side. “I’m regretting no such thing. I realize now what I have missed by not getting to know the young ladies I’ve considered since Lady Eleanore cried off. I am quite looking forward to the week ahead.”
“You are determined to choose a wife this week, aren’t you?” Again, her heart squeezed with pain as the last bit of hope within her tamped out. How lucky she was to see what the Duke of Langley was made of before she had foolishly accepted his offer.
She couldn’t imagine marrying for any reason other than love. She was far enough down on his list of ladies he’d considered that he plainly wasn’t thinking in terms of love. Spending her life with a man who didn’t love her would leave her an empty shell, she was certain. Moreover, it would be difficult for her to sustain a love with someone who cared so little about the person he would spend the rest of his life with.
“I feel obligated to find a bride soon,” Langley explained. “Mother was greatly disappointed to learn I would not be marrying last June. Not only because it had been my father’s wish that I marry Lady Eleanore, but the duchess is looking forward to having grandchildren while she is young enough to enjoy them. And as I will turn thirty next month, I have shirked that duty long enough.”
“Yet you waited until today to propose to anyone.”
He ducked his head, and for the first time Charlotte glimpsed the man he kept hidden behind the duke façade. “Not exactly. I have come close, if you’ll recall. I’ve discovered I have a knack for being a day late in my decision. Before I can approach a young lady with the suggestion of marriage, she chooses someone else.”
Langley had to be making sport of her. He couldn’t expect her to believe he was unable to find a woman who would accept his offer. It was true that her friend Vallie and her sister Alison had chosen elsewhere, but they were hardly the only available ladies. What he’d said to Lord Pembrook could explain part of the problem—I should be able to approach any woman here and have her fall at my feet. That method was plainly not successful. He needed her help if he was going to succeed at his task.
Could she honestly help him gain the hand of another lady in marriage? But what of her own dream? She touched the cold metal heart hanging from her neck. The other girls had worn this necklace and found true love, in spite of the gypsy girl saying it would lead to the heart of a duke. None of them had married dukes, but all four of the girls absolutely glowed with the love they shared with their husbands and fiancés.
Her heart ached at the thought of spending more time with Langley knowing he would marry someone else, yet the time would be good practice for another London Season. Or, by some wild fluke, one of the other ge
ntlemen present might fall at her feet. “Your difficulty is not in the women you choose, but as you say, not becoming well acquainted with them before you make your decision. We can easily resolve that. Now, if Her Grace is like my mother, she has a list.”
He nodded. “As soon as I told her Lady Eleanore had eloped, Mother and my aunt compiled the names of all the young ladies they felt qualified to carry out the responsibilities of the title.”
“You mentioned you thought we could be of assistance to each other. I believe you are correct, but not in the way you imagined.”
His brow lifted but he said nothing.
“I will teach you how to speak to a young lady to engage her affections so she’ll not even notice any other men in the room.”
Langley nodded. “And what do you get from this transaction?”
She offered a polite smile, not wanting him to believe she had any interest in him herself. “As you may have noticed, I’m not comfortable in social situations, especially when speaking to gentlemen.”
“You appear to be making a go of it now.”
“That’s because it’s you.” Her eyes widened. Lud, why not just tell the man how often she spoke to him when her mind was woolgathering? “Ah…that is, since you and Lady Eleanore were engaged you were practically one of our little group, in a manner of speaking. You are like an old friend. If I spend the week talking with you and Lord Pembrook, I might feel less awkward around other gentlemen, which will help me when I return to London.”
“Well, old friend, your offer is quite generous. Do you honestly believe you can make me agreeable to one of these young ladies by the end of the week?” His half-smile softened the sternness of his tone.
She shrugged before catching herself and straightening her posture. She had no idea what the other ladies sought in a husband, but the very fact of their presence implied they were open to an offer from him. The duchess was likely working toward the same goal as Charlotte, to put Langley in the best light before their guests. “I’m certain of it, sir. You should be able to announce your engagement by the end of the week.”
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