The Grace of a Duke

by Linda Rae Sande

  Straightening on the settee, Charlotte regarded Joshua and allowed a brilliant smile. “I would like that very much, Your Grace,” she replied with a nod. “Thank you.”

  Joshua nodded, a bit uncertain as to what to do next. “You must be … exhausted from your travels,” he remembered then, aware that he had spent far too long with her given the amount of work he still needed to complete that afternoon. “I will have Gates show you and your maid to your rooms.” He held out a hand in an effort to assist her up from the settee. She took it, unaware of the shiver her touch sent up Joshua’s arm. “And then I will see you in the library for walnuts and coffee at seven,” he added, remembering the menu she had recited to Gates. He was suddenly nervous at the thought. At least Garrett would be there, too. Perhaps Charlotte wouldn’t be quite so stubborn in the presence of his estate manager.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said again as she curtsied and left the study. She followed Gates to her bedchamber on the second floor. How could the man be so insufferably stubborn? she wondered as she made her way up the staircase. He should be … thankful … there is someone who wants to marry him.

  But a rather humbling thought occurred to her as she reached the landing.

  He no doubt thinks the same about me.

  Chapter 4

  His Grace, Mr. McElliott and Lady Charlotte in the Library

  Garrett eased himself into the chair closest to the fireplace and let out a low moan. “I am so … saddle sore,” he complained, stretching his legs out in front of the chair and crossing them at the ankles. Gates had just given him a glass of whiskey, and he was tempted to down the contents in a single swallow. The medicinal effect might take a few minutes, and his throat would burn like the dickens, but it was tempting.

  “I almost wish I were,” Joshua lamented, tossing the remains of his glass into his mouth. He held it for a moment before allowing the amber liquid to burn down his throat. “I have been sitting on my damned arse most of the day, but I finally have February complete. I can finally start on the numbers for this month tomorrow.” He had worked on the estate’s books most of the day and felt a good deal of satisfaction on having completed the accounting of all the bills and rents.

  Garrett lifted his head from the back of the chair. “And?” he wondered, anxious to learn if his management had resulted in a bit of black ink for the dukedom.

  Joshua furrowed his brow, misunderstanding his friend’s query. “Well, I only took a few moments with her,” he said defensively. “I knew I could not afford to spend more than that, especially today.”

  His eyes widening, Garrett wondered if there was, perhaps, someone else in the library with them. “Whatever are you talking about? Did Mrs. Thomas show up a few days early?” he asked in surprise, knowing the vicar’s sister had requested an audience with His Grace, apparently in an attempt to gain his approval for a village festival. But the woman was punctual and precise and would never get wrong the day of a visit to Wisborough Oaks.

  “No …,” Joshua answered carefully. “Wait. What were you thinking I was talking about?” he asked then, enjoying the numbness that was settling into his joints. For the first time that day, his face didn’t hurt.

  “The books,” Garrett replied, a bit too harshly. “Are we … solvent?”

  Joshua grinned and sat up straighter in his own chair. “Very. In six months, this estate has managed to clear over three-thousand pounds,” he said with some satisfaction. “Thanks to you, of course,” he added with an approving nod. He certainly hadn’t contributed to the good fortune; he’d been laid up in hospital for a month of that time and recuperating in their Grosvenor Square terrace for another three months before returning to Wisborough Oaks.

  “Cheers, then,” Garrett answered smartly, holding his empty glass aloft and nearly missing the sound of a knock on the door.

  “Enter,” Joshua called out, and then belatedly realized who the knocker would be.

  Lady Charlotte Bingham, dressed in an apricot silk confection that appeared to float about her when she moved, entered the library slowly and deliberately, not at all sure what – or who – she would find. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, intending to curtsy to their bows. Ah, Garrett McElliott! she thought happily, relieved that Joshua’s guest was someone with whom she was familiar. She’d spent many afternoons with the man at hospital, apprising him of Joshua’s condition when he came to visit his employer.

  Joshua was up in a moment, his entire being suddenly aware that Charlotte Bingham was a duchess embodied. And a beautiful woman. Her perfect coiffure, blonde curls amassed atop her head with spiral tendrils spilling down around her temples, was an ornate style one would usually see at a ball. The color of the gown showed off her creamy complexion and its cut hinted at a pleasing figure beneath. The white kid gloves, buttoned up to just above her elbows, were well-made and a snug fit on her slender fingers.

  Staring at her as if she was an apparition, Garrett did not immediately get to his feet. “I must have had entirely too much to drink,” he said in a voice that suggested he was surprised at how coherent he sounded. “I could swear Lady Charlotte just walked into this room,” he added as he looked over at Joshua and found his friend already standing and bowing in the direction of the apparition.

  Charlotte performed a curtsy worthy of an audience with the king. “At your service, Mr. McElliott. ’Tis very good to see you again.” If she was miffed that he hadn’t risen upon her arrival, she did not show it in her features. Instead, she seemed to be suppressing a good deal of amusement at Garrett’s expense. And a knowing smile as she regarded him. He was every bit as handsome as she remembered him, and sitting before her in that relaxed, devil-may-care way he had perfected during his days as a gambler only emphasized his tall frame, the muscles of his thighs straining against his buckskin breeches, his wide shoulders barely contained in the dark green superfine topcoat. If he’d been wearing a cravat, there was no sign of it now, but his linen shirt was snowy white against his bronzed skin.

  Garrett jumped to his feet and bowed, the quick movements a sign he at one time had fenced for sport. “I beg your pardon, Lady Charlotte,” he said in a quiet voice. “This is most … unexpected,” he said in awe and a bit of embarrassment. He did a mental calculation and then decided it probably wasn’t so unexpected. Charlotte must be almost one-and-twenty, he figured suddenly. Which meant she was here to … His features hardened as he looked back at Joshua. “You could have said something,” he whispered to his friend. Returning his attention to their guest, his gaze softened as he said, “Welcome to Wisborough Oaks. Please … have a seat.” He waved a hand toward a velvet upholstered chair. “May I get you some … wine?” he asked, wondering if there was any such drink in the library’s collection of spirits. And just where was Gates when drinks needed to be served?

  As if he could hear Garrett’s thoughts, the butler entered the library and hurried to the sideboard with a pot of coffee and a plate of walnuts. He poured three cups of the steaming brew and was about to deliver one to Charlotte, only to find her at his side. “I will see to this, Gates. I’m sure you have more important duties this evening.”

  Gates’ eyes widened, but he gave Lady Charlotte a nod and a, “Very good, milady,” before he bowed and left the room.

  Charlotte placed a cup and saucer on the table next to Joshua and another on the tea table in front of Garrett, bending down a bit as she did so. Without even looking at Garrett, she was aware of his eyes on her as they took her in décolletage. She wondered if Joshua would be as appreciative of seeing so much of her. Although she did not often wear low cut gowns to dinner, she thought that tonight’s dinner called for one. She’d spent the last few hours contemplating how she was going to convince Joshua that marriage – marriage to her – was in his best interest. Showing a bit of cleavage was at least a start.

  As she returned to the sideboard to get the plate of walnuts, she was doubly aware of the two men staring at her.
“Now, you two must tell me all about the dukedom,” she suggested, holding out the plate to each of them in turn. “I have much to learn if I’m to become its duchess.”

  A slow smile spread over Garrett’s face. She certainly knows how to get to the point. He deliberately ignored the look of shock that had appeared on the part of Joshua’s face not covered by his mask.

  He’s doomed, Garrett thought happily. And he would have continued to allow Joshua his state of shock, but thought instead to throw the duke a lifeline. “Of course, Lady Charlotte,” he said instead. “Where should we start?”

  Charlotte took a seat in a wingback chair that afforded a view of both men’s profiles. “Why, at the very beginning, of course,” she said before she took a sip of coffee and waited for their replies.

  Chapter 5

  Lady Charlotte Attempts Seduction

  The distant sound of cracking and splintering wood and was that glass breaking? pulled Joshua from a dream-filled sleep. He laid for a moment, listening and wondering about what could have made such a sound, especially one that was louder than the sound of the wind battering the trees just beyond the room’s windows. A sound from closer drew his attention, though, and he concentrated on it. Mewling, from a frightened cat or … a woman? Rain pelted the bedchamber windows, and, for an instant, a flash of lightning turned the room white. The mewling, sounding very close, turned into a cry of fear. His senses at full alert, he sprang from his bed and moved toward the source of the sound, realizing almost immediately that his dressing gown was nowhere near and he was nude. A boom of thunder sounded from far away. He surveyed his room in the darkness, another flash of lighting illuminating the shape of a person, a woman, he realized. “Who is there?” he asked, the sound of his voice louder than he intended. In the light from the next lightning strike, he made out the identity of his visitor. It was Charlotte, her hands covering her ears, her eyes squeezed shut. The whimpering sounds increased to a cry as the sound of booming thunder filled the room.

  Joshua moved quickly to her, positioning himself so that his nakedness wouldn’t be so apparent if she opened her eyes. “Charlotte?” he whispered, wanting to reach out and cover her mouth so as to silence her cries. Should a servant hear her and come to his room to investigate and find her here, she would be ruined. But he calmed himself on the thought that there would be no servants prowling the halls this time of the night, and Garret would be in his room, on the other side of the guest bedchamber that Charlotte should be in this very instant. That, and the sounds of the wind and the rain that now pelted the windows, allowed him to put his concern for Charlotte’s reputation aside as he now tried to determine what was causing her distress.

  “I apologize, Your Grace,” the Charlotte said between sobs. “I am … so frightened.” White light filled the room, and she practically screamed again.

  “Lady Charlotte,” he whispered, finally taking her in his arms and pulling her against the front of his body. He almost regretted the move; the scent of woman invaded his nostrils. The feel of her satiny dressing gown caressed his skin. Her hair, a mass of loose blonde waves, gave off the scent of jasmine, and he fought the urge to bury his nose in the silken threads. Her hands suddenly wrapped around his body and pressed into his back as the side of her face pressed against his neck and shoulder. He felt the warmth of her body, felt the wetness of her tears, felt her trembling and heard her quieting sobs. “Whatever is wrong?” he queried, his hands moving to the middle of her back, holding her hard against him so she wouldn’t be able to see his scars. Or his nakedness.

  The room filled with light again and the sound of rolling thunder followed immediately. Charlotte’s arms tightened around his back as she cried out again. “Please, don’t make me leave,” she whispered, her tears leaving moist trails on the front of his chest.

  Her heart pounded a tattoo that Joshua felt down to his core. She is scared to death, he realized, feeling the trembles of her body beneath his hands. “Shh,” he replied, not sure what he could say to assuage her fear. Very aware of the curves of her body pressed against him, he felt his loins tighten and fought to keep control of himself. If he stood there holding her for one minute longer, she would find herself even more frightened … of me, he thought.

  Leaving one arm firmly against the small of her back, he bent down and captured the back of her knees with his other arm, lifting her and taking her to the bed. A wisp of a thing, he considered, trying not to notice that her dressing gown was no longer completely closed around her waist and what she wore beneath was shiny and slippery and clung to her body like a glove. He lowered her onto the bed and lay down, quickly covering his body with the bed linens in an attempt to keep his nakedness hidden in the event another lightning flash lit the room. He also wanted to ensure she ended up on his unscarred side. She was clinging to that side of his body even before he could cover himself completely. Settling his head into his pillow, he was aware of her entire body trembling along the side of his body, aware of her hammering heartbeats through the smooth satin of her gown, aware of the scent of her as he wrapped his right arm around her shoulder and pulled her head to rest in the hollow of his shoulder. And he tried not to think of her right breast resting against his chest or of her satin-clad leg that was slowly sliding between his legs as her pulse slowed and her breathing turned slight. And when her right leg came to rest between his legs, he found he could not ignore the fact that her hip was pressed quite firmly against his hardened manhood.

  Sighing lightly so as to lessen the rise and fall of his chest, he considered the mental torture he was experiencing as a result of Charlotte Bingham. He wanted this woman, he realized. Had wanted her even when she was to be his brother’s wife. He could admit that to himself now. She was beautiful. She was educated. She was refined. And she conducted herself as if she was … a woman. A woman much older than her twenty-one years, he decided.

  How could that be? he wondered.

  Charlotte didn’t engage in chit-chat or spend her days deciding what frippery to buy on her next shopping trip. Her family was rarely the topic of gossip. Her charity was St. Bartholomew’s, a calling she took very seriously. There was an air of responsibility about her and yet a cloak of defeat, too, as if she’d taken on too much at one point in her life and found she could not live up to the expectations placed on her.

  And she was frightened of something – besides lightning, he thought – or perhaps someone.

  He would have to ask her about that.

  So why deny her the marriage she was so determined to have? If she has been training her entire life to be a duchess, then why not take her as my wife? he wondered to himself. She could be considered betrothed to him, even though he knew nothing of the particulars with regard to dowry or age or … details, he considered suddenly. He’d have to dispatch Garrett to London to learn what he could about the Bingham family and the arrangements made so many years ago for a marriage between their daughter and the future Duke of Chichester. Charlotte had made it clear over dinner she had no wish to return to London; Joshua was left wondering where she would go if he didn’t offer hospitality at Wisborough Oaks.

  Had her parents sent her here because she was almost old enough for the wedding to take place? It seemed odd that her mother or a relative hadn’t joined her for the trip from London. What parent would allow their daughter, who had not yet reached her majority, to travel over four hours by coach to a duke’s estate where, besides the servants, only men lived?

  Questions about Lady Charlotte continued to mount in his mind, and although he might have found them puzzling, they were far more entertaining to consider than his aching wounds and the concerns of the duchy. He could just ask her the questions, he thought suddenly. Or, perhaps, if she were given enough time, she would offer the answers.

  Joshua took a deep breath and sighed.

  He would simply wait for Garrett to report back to him before he would make any rash decisions. And in the meantime, perhaps he
could put Charlotte to work just a bit. Running the household was his least favorite task as a duke; if she had truly trained to be a duchess, she could take on the responsibilities of the house and surrounding lawn and gardens. Planning the menus, overseeing the cook’s food purchases, speaking with staff, giving the gardener guidance as to how the grounds should look for the summer, and decorating that damned parlor, he considered, remembering how every time the vicar’s sister attended a function at the estate, she mentioned how shabby the old salon had become.

  In the meantime, he’d have to endure the other torture he found himself experiencing. His manhood was quite aware there was a nearly naked woman pressed against him. The pads of her right fingertips lay lightly on his chest and mounds of blonde curls tickled the skin around his shoulder. The slippery satin of her dressing gown, still wrapped mostly about her body, felt cool, almost sensual against the skin on the right side of his body, and he wondered for a moment how it would feel against his scarred left side. Although not many nerve endings had survived the trauma of being burned, those that did ached for something pleasant to feel, something smooth and soft and comforting.