“This is not a matter for levity, Andrew. When the daughter of my dear friend returns in tears from a walk with you, I have a right to ask what took place.”
She hadn’t called him by his given name since his father had died. He was truly put in his place. He assumed she meant Lady Charlotte. Brooky was the only other man in the maze and he’d never have done something untoward. “I’m at a loss to explain it, Mother. I’d hoped to discover why everyone had returned without me. Did you ask the girl, herself?”
“I wasn’t going to question her while the other guests were about. She and her mother retired to their chambers.” Mother’s little dog had jumped into her lap and she stroked the animal while watching her son.
“What about that girl, what’s her name? Fielding or something. She and Brooky went into the maze with us. She might have observed the incident.”
His mother practically shrieked. “You took Lady Charlotte into the maze? You didn’t do anything to disgrace yourself, did you?”
“Even had I wanted to, I never found her. When I came out, the others had all gone, except for the Martin sisters.”
“How odd.” She looked down at her dog, making soothing kissing noises. “Lady Charlotte came in on the arm of Pembrook. Perhaps you should ask him. Mayhap she fell and injured herself, and I’ve imagined a storm in a tea cup.”
A fall. That might explain those three returning in a hurry. “I will find him and enquire.”
“I shall go to Lady Pinsley’s chamber and see how Charlotte is faring. Between us, we’ll resolve this. But if I find out it’s something you’ve done—”
“I assure you, I didn’t have the opportunity to do anything to upset Lady Charlotte.”
Langley’s frustration simmered while he strode to his study, certain that’s where his friend would be. When Brooky wasn’t there, Langley went to the billiards room, where he found the man racking the balls for a game. “There you are.”
“Here I am. Was I missing?” His voice sounded tight, not the usual lazy drawl.
“You were all missing when I came out of the maze. Where did everyone go?”
“Inside, obviously.”
Langley flexed his hand as it repeatedly formed a fist. “Very well then, why did you go?”
“Lady Charlotte wished to return.”
Langley itched to grab the pool cue from Brooky and snap it over his friend’s head. “Did she say why? I received a setting down when I returned to the manor. Mother accused me of compromising the girl, making her cry.”
“You did something, all right, but the lady wouldn’t say what. She stated she wished to return immediately and had no desire to wait for you and Miss Martin.”
His stomach sank, and began to burn. “She mentioned Miss Martin, did she?” He shoved his hair off his forehead and strode to the window. Lady Charlotte must have come across them at exactly the wrong moment.
“Was there something to mention?” Brooky’s tone implied his suspicions.
“Possibly. That hoyden is determined to get her claws in me. She embraced me when I came across her in the maze.”
“I take it that hoyden is Miss Martin. Is there a chance Lady Charlotte saw this…embrace?”
Langley gripped the windowsill to keep from tossing furniture to ease the anger boiling within him. “She must have. And probably assumed it was my doing. She seems to have a low opinion of me.”
“A low opinion, eh? Perhaps she’s heard tales of your exploits? You cannot deny there are a few.”
“But who would speak of such things to a lady?” He forked his fingers through his hair. “Why would anyone even care with whom I’ve had a dalliance, so long as innocents are not involved?”
“Women talk, and the higher the rank of the man in discussion, the more they want to know.” Brooky sank his shot, the clatter of wooden balls ringing out followed by the clunk of one finding a pocket.
“I should send for her, tell her the truth of what happened.” The simplest thing to do would be to accept that Lady Charlotte had no desire to marry him, even before this misunderstanding. Yet that felt like the lazy way out. A lesser man might choose that path, but he needed to make this right.
“Would she believe it?” Balls clattered, then Brooky continued. “And why do you care what she thinks of you, beyond having her feelings injured? She would recover from an infatuation quickly enough if you left her alone and chose another as your wife.”
Langley spoke as the realization hit him. “I don’t want her thinking ill of me, whether she marries me or not. I don’t know why, but it matters.”
“Have you formed an attachment to her? I wouldn’t have thought it possible. Wonder of wonders, the duke has a heart.”
“Of course I do,” Langley bit out. Why was everyone so eager to think the worst of him? Had his actions over the years led to this? “Everyone has one.”
“But not everyone chooses to offer theirs to another.”
“Offer her my heart? Is that what she’s waiting for? I offered my name, my home, my life. Doesn’t she understand my heart goes with it?” Women, young ladies in particular, were the hardest creatures to fathom. A man offered everything he possessed, and it wasn’t enough.
“How can she, when it seems you were unaware of the matter until just recently?”
Was that the key? He knew her ploy of teaching him to speak to the other ladies was a ruse, but he hadn’t really expected Lady Charlotte to fall in love with him as they chatted. He’d believed somehow she would approach it analytically, as he did. Discover the aspects of his life, his personality, which melded with what she wanted from marriage, and see how well they suited.
Was he capable of loving her? As much as any other man.
He considered the other girls present and he realized his error in judgment. Lady Charlotte was the only one here who wished to know him better. Who wished to see the real man behind the title. Only with her would he have a chance for love to grow from their marriage. That knowledge made him more suited to her than any other man.
“How do I fix this?” While he spoke the words aloud, he didn’t expect Brooky to answer. He had to speak to Lady Charlotte regardless of the outcome of their conversation. He needed to know if he was the cause of her distress and determine the remedy for it. Turning to Brooky, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I must tend to this.”
On the way to his study, he spotted a footman and requested Lady Charlotte be asked to join him. He was tempted to pour himself a whiskey while he waited, but was oddly concerned what she might think of his need for a drink to speak with her.
He was fully aware of how their mothers might construe his request of an audience with her, but no longer cared. There was only one opinion that mattered to him. He was determined to get an answer from her, one way or the other, before they left his study. If she said no, he would pursue her no longer.
The weight of that thought pressed down on him.
The footsteps in the hallway were too heavy to be Lady Charlotte’s, and with only one pair of heels ringing out, he knew before the footman arrived what Lady Charlotte’s answer had been.
“Your Grace, Lady Charlotte declines your kind offer of an audience.”
Swallowing his terse reply, he tempered his voice before he could bite off the servant’s head. “Did she say anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“Very well. You’re dismissed.”
The young man bowed and hurried from the room.
Suddenly feeling like a wrung-out cloth, Langley sank into the leather chair behind his desk, lowering his head in his hands. What had he done? With one act not of his own doing, he’d lost the one chance for happiness. Certainly he could marry any of the ladies present and have a satisfactory life, raise his heir and a few more children to be happy, considerate members of Society. Yet he couldn’t imagine spending his life with any of them.
He knew he was coming awfully close to behaving like Aesop’s fox, but this had to be more tha
n a passing fancy. Lady Charlotte’s unwillingness to speak with him struck him more deeply than Lady Eleanore’s elopement. Lady Eleanore’s decision was based on her love for another man, he assumed, and not any act of Langley’s. Lady Charlotte had rejected him twice now, seemingly based on his actions, however misconstrued her interpretation was.
Why had she turned down his offer of marriage in the first place? He didn’t accept her ruse of misunderstanding his proposal. When pushed, she had avoided any definite answer, instead offering to help him learn to speak to young ladies.
Could it be as simple as that? Had she expected a more histrionic declaration? If so, he was certainly not the man for her. She expected the hero from her romances, apparently. That was as far from Langley’s character as could be imagined.
Jumping from his chair, he paced in front of his bookcases, pulling down the type of book he thought might interest her. One after another, he stacked them in his hands before returning to his desk and pouring over the pages of each one.
Somewhere among the words printed there had to be the answer to Lady Charlotte’s expectations. If he could only find the magic formula, he might express himself properly and allow her to see exactly why he thought they suited.
A knock sounded at his door and he looked up to see a footman awaiting permission to enter.
“What is it, Jimmy?” Langley asked brusquely.
“Her Grace wishes to remind you your presence is expected at supper.”
Langley glanced toward the windows, only now noticing how thin the light had grown. “You may assure her I will be on time.”
Snapping the novel closed, he set it on the stack with the others, none of which had revealed their magic to him. He was left to his own devices.
Langley did not see Lady Charlotte at supper that evening, or at any time the next day. He continued to play the host, joining in begrudgingly in the activities his mother had scheduled, his hopes fading that Lady Charlotte might appear.
During one quiet moment Friday morning, he found his mother alone in the morning room. He strode to where she sat. “Good morning.”
“Good morning dear boy. You are up and about early. I would expect you to be riding at this hour, or in your study.”
He nodded. “I am headed to my study but noticed you here. Tell me, has Lady Charlotte gone home?” He’d seen her mother about, and thought it odd the girl would leave without her.
“No, she is still here.”
“Has she been ill? She does not join the others.”
His mother raised her quizzing glass at him. “Lady Pinsley says she is suffering megrims.”
The urge to squirm like a young boy grew the longer she held up that gold-framed lens. Langley tore his gaze away. “Should the doctor be called? Has she been given any powders?”
“I had Mrs. Cook send her up a pot of her special tea. I do expect Lady Charlotte will recover in time to travel home on Sunday.”
Bowing stiffly, Langley took his leave of her, returning abovestairs to his study. If Mother hadn’t sent for the doctor, she likely knew the girl’s ills were not of the body, but the spirit. Which meant Langley was the cause.
How could he apologize if he couldn’t speak to her? Should he send her a note? He supposed that would have to do. He wouldn’t mention any activity that might cause further distress, simply telling her of his concerns for her well being, and his wish for a quick recovery.
His own spirits feeling lighter, he pushed open the door to his study, only to find the woman of his worries sitting at his desk.
Chapter Seven
A cold draft passed over Charlotte and she glanced up at the doorway. Seeing the duke there, she gasped and jumped from her seat, dropping a book in her haste. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to pry.” Her eyes were ringed with pink, but her cheeks were dry. She had the look of a man facing the gallows.
Langley simply smiled. “How lovely to see you. Shall I send for tea?”
“No, thank you.”
“Coffee, perhaps? Some toast?” He remained in the doorway, one hand grasping the knob.
Charlotte moved away from his chair, her limbs quaking. She should have expected to run into him here, of all places. “Thank you, sir, but I require nothing. I simply sought something to read. I will not trespass upon your time any longer.”
He strode into the room and motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, don’t leave. I will find whatever book you wish to read. Will you sit?”
Taking two steps toward the door, Charlotte stopped when Langley blocked her way. She lifted her gaze to his, knowing she owed him the chance to speak to her, but not wishing to hear anything he had to say.
“Please, Lady Charlotte.” His voice was soft, low. Resigned. “Hear me out. Then I will send my entire library to your chamber, should you wish to spend the rest of your visit reading.”
She nodded and sat where he suggested. Her gaze dropped to her lap, and her hands clutched together. Not trusting her voice to work properly, she waited for him to speak.
After rounding the desk, he picked up the fallen book and set it atop the others before sitting. He cleared his throat. “Is there something I have done that upset you?”
She nodded.
“Would you tell me what it is?”
Her head shook side to side.
“All right then, I shall guess. Did it involve Miss Martin?”
Her shoulders trembled with the effort to keep from bursting into tears. Drawing in a breath, she whispered, “Yes.” She plucked at the ribbon tied around her waist.
“I see. And I imagine it wouldn’t change your opinion of me if I said I didn’t initiate that embrace.”
His words inspired anger, rather than the tears she expected. She pierced him with her gaze, her jaw tense. “My opinion of you is much the same as before I arrived here.”
He swallowed. “You thought so little of me, yet you had no qualms about attending a party at Hawking Hall?”
“My mother wished to visit with the duchess.” It was the truth, even if it avoided the fact a small part of her still held hope he was the man of her dreams. A very small part of her, which had withered the first day of her visit.
“You knew my mother wishes for me to marry. She invited only those young ladies she felt suitable to become my wife. You understood the purpose of your invitation.”
“Yes.” She dropped her gaze when a bit of chagrin washed over her. Her presence at his home implied her willingness to marry him, she understood. “I didn’t believe you would notice me among all the other young ladies.”
There was the entire truth of it. Since he had been working his way through the eligible ladies of Society and hadn’t approached her in the five months since Elle eloped, she knew she was not the woman he sought. She had no fear of being proposed to, no matter how she might have wished for it at one time, because she was beneath his notice.
And the truth still stung. All her friends were in love. That was all she wanted from life. A man to love her. A man she could love in return.
“Perhaps it would have been better if I hadn’t noticed you.” Langley rose and walked a few steps away, sighed, then came back again. “I admit to being uncertain how to proceed. The kind thing to do would be to apologize for distressing you and let you return to your quiet life. Allow you to find a husband whose life would be less threatening to your happiness.”
He had her attention now. What he called the kind thing was the only act she expected from him at this point. What was he thinking?
“Is that what you wish, Lady Charlotte?”
Her hand went to the heart on the chain around her neck. Why was she even wearing it still? That ship had sailed. The heart of the duke. Such a bounder. “I am no longer certain what I wish.”
“You asked me not too long ago what I wished for in a wife. At the time, I didn’t know, but I do now.” He resumed his seat, leaning forward to speak softly to her. “I want a wife who is proud to ca
ll me husband. One who will accept my word as truth, regardless of the accusations against me. One who will know me well enough to trust me in all things.”
He pushed his hair off his forehead, his hand then shifting as if to reach for her before resting palm-down on the desk. “She will have to trust me, as the gossips will always try to bring her down. I know these are strengths that come with time, but the woman I marry will need to know herself capable of doing all of this.”
Langley rose again and came around the desk to sit in the chair beside her.
Charlotte’s heart fluttered wildly and she fought the urge to flee the room. She’d told him before she was not the woman he sought, why did he feel he must explain all of this to her now? Surely he didn’t expect her to continue to help him find a wife.
He reached out and took her hand. “Do you see that pile of books?”
She nodded.
“They are the ones you said you enjoy. I spent the entirety of the day yesterday searching their souls for a clue to where I went wrong. I am very sorry to say I didn’t find it.”
Looking back at him, Charlotte tipped her head to one side. “I do not understand. What did you think the books would tell you?”
His chuckle was brief, dry. “How to be a hero. How to be your hero, Charlotte.”
Her eyes widened. Her hero? Her heart continued to race, and her stomach began to quiver. Who was this man beside her? “You wish to be my hero? I do not need rescuing, I assure you.”
“Do you not?” His thumb rubbed over the back of the hand he still held. “I beg to disagree. You seem to imagine yourself a wallflower, and are content to let the other ladies display their talents while keeping your light under a bushel.”
His was an apt description, except for it only being her imagination. “When one is invisible to those around her, is she imagining she is not being seen?” She withdrew her hand, holding it up before he could argue more. “Please do not try to turn a pretty phrase and convince me of my beauty or exquisite figure. I know I am not a great beauty, and I am comfortable with that. One day I will find a man who is equally comfortable with my looks, and I shall accept him as my husband and be glad of it.”
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