by Leah Conolly
“Forgive me, my lord,” she said, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “This is highly unorthodox and inappropriate. Everyone else has gone to bed, and we should not be alone together.”
The Comte chuckled and released his grip on her, widening the gap between them marginally as he teetered drunkenly. Charlotte glanced to her right, contemplating rushing through the narrow space between herself and Francois and locking herself into her room.
She was not fast enough, however. Francois recovered quickly and put his left hand on the wall, just beside Charlotte’s head, again pinning her in place. He leaned in closer, and Charlotte thought she might be sick, as the strong smell of the liquor burned her nostrils once more.
“As I recall, you are quite the unorthodox young woman, my dear,” he said. “I do wonder just how much young Lord Willeton might have compromised your reputation while you were in his, er, employ.”
Charlotte felt her cheeks grow hot, and she was suddenly glad for the dim light and the Comte’s intoxicated state. For him, of all people, to imply that Duncan had been anything but decent and proper with her was infuriating.
“This is highly inappropriate, my lord,” Charlotte said, this time letting her disdain make itself apparent.
Again, Francois laughed, which only angered Charlotte further. She tried to push him away from her, but he caught her hands.
“We will be wed in less than a month,” Francois said. Charlotte noted how smug he sounded, and she shuddered. “It is hardly inappropriate for me to show affection to my betrothed.”
Charlotte’s heart was racing. He had her well and truly trapped, and his hands should not have been on her as they were. For the first time, she wondered whether he might try to treat her as he had the other women from his past.
Just then, a door closed firmly, and light, rapid footsteps approached the pair.
“Forgive me, my lady,” Ruth’s voice said firmly. Charlotte looked at her maid’s face, which was flushed with anger and determination. She addressed Charlotte, but she narrowed her gaze directly at Francois. “Is there any way I can be of service?”
Francois looked away from Charlotte, temporarily distracted by Ruth’s presence. Charlotte used the opportunity to push him as far away from her as she could.
This time she was successful, and she darted past him before he could find another opportunity to grasp her again.
“Thank you, Ruth,” she said. “I was just retiring for the evening. The Comte here was just bidding me goodnight. Isn’t that right?”
The Comte glared at Charlotte, knowing full well what she was doing. However, she knew that he would not continue pressing her now that there was a witness.
“Yes,” he mumbled, turning away. “Good night, Lady Charlotte.”
“Good night, my lord,” she said.
Once the Comte had stumbled away, Charlotte beckoned silently for Ruth to follow her. The two women entered Charlotte’s quarters, and she locked the door behind them. Ruth reached for her hands, but she threw her arms around her friend, choking back sobs.
“Are you alright?” Ruth asked.
Charlotte nodded, unable to speak.
“Did he hurt you?” Ruth asked, growing alarmed.
Charlotte shook her head, but she began trembling. She released Ruth and took her hands, trying to compose herself.
“No,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I believe he had every intention of trying to claim what he believes is his, tonight.”
Ruth’s eyes grew wide with rage.
“We must tell your father at once,” Ruth said, tugging at Charlotte’s hand.
Charlotte shook her head sadly.
“It is my word against his,” she said, letting her tears flow freely. “The Comte would convince my father that this was merely another ploy to avoid marrying him.”
Ruth looked at Charlotte, her face falling. Charlotte could see that Ruth knew she was right, and it upset her a great deal.
She wanted the Comte’s actions to be discovered, too, but, even if they were, such a revelation would only result in upsetting her father and angering the Comte.
The idea of marrying a man who could treat her in such a fashion made Charlotte feel faint. She collapsed, covering her face with her hands, and releasing the sobs she had suppressed in front of Francois.
Chapter 26
Duncan sat at his desk, which was cluttered with disorganized work documents and letters, swirling a glass of brandy in his hand. He had sat down with the intention of addressing some pressing correspondence and rescheduling some meetings, but instead he brooded. He knew that if he did not pull himself together soon and get back to his regular routine, his business reputation would be ruined.
He still could not force himself to bring order to the chaotic mess of randomly tossed paperwork. Each page was a constant reminder of Christine, of how immaculate she had always kept his office, and he could not bear to take up the task. He also could not even consider hiring another assistant. Christine had been unique, and he knew that he could never replace her.
Knowing full well that he could not get himself back on track on his own, he begrudgingly sent for his mother. He felt sure that she would be too self-absorbed and arrogant to question why he was asking for her assistance. Truthfully, he would rather tell her that he had ruined a few meetings by mere happenstance, rather than explain what had truly distracted him. As though she does not already know, he thought bitterly.
While he waited for her arrival, Duncan took another look around his desk. He supposed that his mother would have something to say about the mess, but he still could not manage anything that resembled organization. Instead he finished his latest drink and made himself look busy by shuffling pages around, as though he were actually getting something done.
He tried to immerse himself in some of the documents as he sifted through them, but none of the words on the pages made any sense to him. The only words he could comprehend in that moment had to do with Christine, and they just made him feel even more depressed.
About an hour later, his mother breezed into the study. He forced himself to look casual and nonplussed as he gazed up at her.
“Thank you for coming, Mother,” he said.
Helena beamed, and Duncan winced. He wished again that he could have called on anyone but her.
“Of course, darling,” she said. Then, her brow furrowed. “How are you?”
Duncan pasted on a grin of his own, hoping it looked like less of a grimace than it felt to him.
“I am well,” he said. “I just need some advice on a couple of business deals that did not go as I had envisioned.”
Helena clasped her hands together with glee. Duncan suppressed a groan. This would certainly reinforce Helena’s belief that he could not get by in his business without her, but he was left with little choice.
“I am thrilled to help, darling,” she said, overjoyed. “Do you have any documents for me to review?”
Duncan kept pretending to sift through the papers, hoping that she would not catch him floundering. Fortunately, a moment later, he found a document related to his most recently ruined business deal. He handed it to her, avoiding her gaze and pretending to continue looking for other documents.
Helena stared at the page he handed her for a moment. When he dared glance at her from the corner of his eye, he could see that she was not even reading it. He lifted his head, studying her carefully.
After another moment of staring at the page, she looked up at him, beaming more widely than before.
“You know,” she said, her voice ominously casual and smooth. “I met the most interesting young lady at tea the other day.”
Duncan reflexively put his hand up to his temple. He should have known that his mother would not have come into his office in such a good mood unless she was up to some sort of scheme. Once again, he cursed himself for calling for her, and wished more than anything that he could just send her, and whatever plan she had conc
octed, away. But he knew that if he were to have any hope of her help, he would have to hear her out.
“Oh?” he asked, feigning interest.
Helena was so absorbed in her scheme that she did not notice Duncan’s strained attempt at caring.
“Oh, yes, darling,” she said. “Her name is Suzanne Bradshaw. She is the daughter of the Earl of Rickton. She recently made her debut, and she is such a lovely young lady. She plays piano exquisitely, and she has a voice that rivals the angels. And she is involved in charity work. I think that the two of you would get on famously.”
Duncan struggled with all his remaining strength to keep from putting his face in his hands. The woman his mother was describing was the type in which he could not have had less interest. He knew, however, trying to argue with her would only result in him becoming more upset and exhausted.
Rather than changing the subject, he pretended to sit thoughtfully for a moment, so that he could collect his thoughts and respond in a way that would appease his mother, without committing to something that he might regret.
“She sounds lovely indeed,” he said, turning his attention back to his desk. Even with his mother talking to him, he still could not get his mind off Christine.
His mother continued, oblivious to her son’s reactions.
“Oh, I knew that you would think so,” she said, delighted. “I have invited her for dinner this Friday, and I was hoping that you would agree to attend as well.”
There it is, Duncan thought, the real reason she rushed over here.
“Believe me, darling, the two of you would make the perfect pair,” Helena continued. “She is thrilled at the prospect of meeting you.”
He looked at his mother, weighing his options. The last thing he wanted to do was attend a dinner party, especially one hosted by his mother with the purpose of finding him a bride. However, it was clear that Helena had her mind set on the idea, and he did not have the energy or the willpower to argue with her. Helena Lancaster was as persistent as she was brusque, and she would not take no for an answer, even if she had to bring the dinner to Duncan’s home.
With a heavy sigh, Duncan nodded.
“Of course, Mother,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless.
Helena pressed her hands to her chest, either ignoring or oblivious to her son’s lack of enthusiasm.
“Splendid, darling,” she said. “I am sure you will have a wonderful time.”
As Duncan had hoped, giving in to Helena’s wishes served as an effective method of getting rid of her. She rushed from the room, clearly pleased with herself for having gotten her way. Duncan watched her leave with another sigh.
With his mother gone, he no longer needed to pretend to work. He shoved the papers in front of him aside, propped his elbows on his desk, and put his head in his hands. He hardly cared that she had not stayed to help. In fact, he was glad. If she had stayed, she would just have continued gushing about the young woman, and he could not stomach such conversation. All he cared about was Christine.
He cancelled all his meetings for the rest of the week and stayed in his quarters, passing the time alone until Friday arrived. Fortunately, his mother did not return, and so he was left to his solitude. He hardly ate, and his sleep was fitful. By the time Friday afternoon arrived, he felt like a hollow shell of a man.
Nonetheless, he cleaned himself up and dressed in a crisp new coat, so that his disheveled appearance would not earn him a lecture from his mother. He begrudgingly made the trip to his mother’s home, trying to shake off some of the darkness that had enveloped him since Christine’s arrest. Instead, he put on an air of politeness and charm.
The butler ushered Duncan into the dining room, where his mother and Suzanne Bradshaw were awaiting his arrival. The first thing Duncan noticed was the young woman’s stark contrast to Christine in appearance. She appeared a bit shorter and plumper. Her hair was dark, almost raven, and her eyes were a dark green. Her cheeks seemed to be permanently flushed, and her skin was a few shades darker than Christine’s.
As he looked at her, Duncan noticed something else. The blue dress she wore strongly resembled one of the dresses that he had bought for Christine. Duncan smiled, trying to hide the renewed pain that the thought brought him.
Helena rose and moved to greet her son. She kissed him on the cheek with cool, dry lips.
“Good evening, Duncan,” she said. “Please, join us.” She smiled again, then gestured for him to take a seat. She pointed to the seat beside Suzanne, but Duncan moved to the one across from her, pretending not to notice. Helena barely seemed affected, pleased enough to have gotten Duncan to attend.
“Duncan, darling,” Helena said as they sat down, and she gestured for the staff to begin serving the meal. “I would like you to meet Lady Suzanne Bradshaw.”
Duncan nodded to her, glad to already be seated at the table and avoid the typical greeting customs.
Lady Suzanne gave Duncan a wide smile, blinking flirtatiously at him.
“It is a pleasure, Lord Willeton,” she said, her gaze locked on his.
“The pleasure is mine, my lady,” he said, his faux charming smile firmly in place.
Suzanne’s grin widened, and she tilted up her chin. It was clear that the young woman thought very highly of herself, and Duncan saw instantly why Helena liked her so much. He broke the woman’s gaze and looked at his mother, keeping his fake smile, but his eyes filling with annoyance.
“Thank you for the invitation, Mother,” he said.
Once more, Helena ignored Duncan’s displeasure. She began instead engaging Suzanne in conversation.
“Lady Suzanne,” Helena said, her voice full of sweetness. “You were telling me about some of the charity work you do. Why don’t you tell Duncan about it? I am sure he would love to hear of it.”
Duncan nodded mechanically as the kitchen staff brought in the meal. He was far from hungry, but he forced himself to eat as Suzanne talked, proudly boasting about her contributions to various charities. He forced himself to eat, so that he could focus on his plate rather than what she was saying.
The more she spoke, the clearer it became that she was not only over- confident, she was also snide and pretentious. She also talked too much. Even if he had wished to join in, he would not have been able to between her bragging and the constant flaunting of her status and wealth.
After what felt like hours, the meal was over, and Lady Suzanne had at last stopped talking. Duncan looked up in the silence and saw both Lady Suzanne and his mother looking at him expectantly. He donned his dazzling smile once again and nodded.
“That sounds very rewarding,” he said. He could not recall a single charity Suzanne had mentioned, but his response seemed to please both women a great deal.
“I knew you would think so,” Helena said, practically gloating. “Suzanne, perhaps you would like to join us in the drawing room for tea, and even be kind enough to play a song or two for us?”
Duncan stifled a groan, struggling to keep his smile intact. He said nothing, not wishing to encourage the woman. He wanted to say his goodbyes and leave. Helena, of course, had other ideas.
“Wouldn’t you like to hear Lady Suzanne play and sing for us?” she asked.
Duncan glared at his mother through his smile. Though he was not interested in the woman, he could not bear to be rude, and his mother had effectively put him on the spot.
“That would be lovely,” he said.
Suzanne grinned widely at him again, and Duncan felt his stomach tighten. Despite his silence throughout the meal, she seemed convinced that he was interested in her.
“Well, if you insist, Lord Willeton,” she said, with a coquettish giggle.
Dutifully, Duncan followed his mother and Suzanne into the drawing room. Suzanne went straight toward the pianoforte and seated herself as though in her own home. She took a moment to touch her hair and smooth her dress, then she put her fingers up to the keys. Without hesitation, she began playing a lively piece, appa
rently from memory. After a moment of playing, she began to sing.
Duncan tried to listen, if only to be polite. She played precisely, clearly a product of years of training. Her voice was clear, but it was nothing spectacular. A glance at his mother told him that she thought the contrary. Duncan let his mind wander back to Christine. He had only heard her humming to herself on a couple of occasions, but her voice had been pure and airy, and full of the simple joy of the music. As with everything about Christine, it had been sincere and genuine, and that was what he loved most.
When the song finally ended long minutes later, Duncan applauded gently and bowed as she rose.