Pretty Little Lies for the Duke's Heart

by Leah Conolly

  Paul looked at Duncan, clearly baffled at Duncan’s apparent ineptitude. Duncan winced, cursing his mother silently. He was going to have to speak with her about arranging his meetings. By that, he meant that he was going to tell her, in no uncertain terms, never to do such a thing again.

  “I do apologize,” Duncan said, trying to widen his smile. “It would seem that Mother forgot that I needed to oversee a shipment today. I assure you, however, that I will correct this issue, and I will attend to our business as soon as my cargo is loaded.”

  “Very well,” Paul said. “The matter can wait until you are available to discuss it further.”

  Duncan shook his hand.

  “I will write to you this evening to reschedule, you have my word,” he said.

  The gentleman nodded, then excused himself and walked away. Duncan rubbed his face with his hands, vowing that he would do whatever it took to force his mother to stay out of his business ventures, unless he specifically asked for her help.

  As he tried to compose himself and regain his focus, he saw a familiar blue dress moving slowly through a cluster of people standing a few feet ahead of him. At first, he resisted the urge to turn and look, recalling the mistake he had made at the ball. Then, he saw the face of the woman wearing the dress. He started trotting toward her before he was aware that he was moving.

  “Christine,” he called, trying to push past the people standing between them.

  She did not hear him and continued walking. He broke through the crowd just as she moved past him.

  “Christine!” he called again, completely ignoring the people who were now staring at him as he shouted after her. He saw Ruthie trailing slowly behind Christine, but she did not lift her head toward him.

  This time, Christine heard him, and she turned around. Her mouth fell open, and she stopped walking when she spotted him. He rushed toward her.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Where are you going?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but a gruff voice interrupted her.

  “Excuse me,” a lanky man with a heavy French accent said. “I don’t believe we have met.”

  Duncan looked at the man, who smelled strongly of liquor, then back at Christine.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  Christine looked down at the ground. Duncan noticed how sad and defeated she looked, and his heart broke for her. He wished more than anything that he had not banished her from his home. He started to reach for her, but the man stepped between them.

  “If you will excuse us, sir,” the man said. “We are boarding that ship to France at once.”

  Duncan’s heart stopped.

  “A ship to France?” he echoed. He looked at Christine. “Why?”

  She looked back up at him. There were no tears in her eyes, but her pain was clear in her expression.

  “Lord Willeton,” she said, stepping beside the French man. “This is Comte Francois. He and I are leaving to be wed in France.”

  Duncan stared dumbly, unable to believe what he had just heard. He glanced toward Ruthie, who was now a few paces closer, but was still trailing behind the couple. She was looking at him, her eyes sad and dark.

  “You are marrying him?” he asked, feeling as though someone had knocked the breath out of him.

  Christine nodded, her face becoming sadder as she did so.

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  Duncan felt panic rising within him. He had made the mistake of letting her go once. He could not risk doing so again.

  “No,” he said, his voice pleading. “Please, do not go. You must stay here.”

  The Comte moved to put his arm around Christine. Duncan saw her flinch away from him, then quickly avert her gaze. When the Comte made a second attempt to touch her, she remained still, but her face was full of misery. Duncan felt his blood heating, and he considered grabbing her hands and leading her away from the man.

  When Christine looked up again, there were tears in her eyes. Duncan felt sick, seeing her in so much distress, and he felt responsible for whatever predicament she was in now.

  “I cannot stay,” she said, her voice quivering. “My father promised my hand in marriage to Comte Francois when I was sixteen. I was supposed to board a ship to France the day that I met you, but . . .,” she trailed off.

  “It was merely a mistake, Cherie,” the Comte said, cutting Christine off as she spoke. “Let us think or speak no more of it.”

  Duncan’s eyes grew wide. Suddenly, everything made perfect sense to him. The reason why Christine and her maid had tried to stowaway in the crate, the need for her to change her identity, her secrecy, her reaction in the theater. She had been trying to hide from her family and escape a betrothal to this man. Based on what Duncan could see, she had been right to do so.

  Duncan felt more compelled than ever to save her. He stepped toward her, ignoring the tall, crude man beside her.

  “You do not have to do this,” he said. “Please, just take some time to think about it.”

  Christine shook her head slowly. The Comte stood by, smirking smugly, which infuriated Duncan.

  “I was punished for not doing as I was supposed to,” she said. “I do not have a choice. I must go with the Comte, as was agreed. I am so sorry.”

  With that, the Comte put his arm briskly around her shoulders. Frozen in shock, Duncan struggled frantically to recall her real name. Before he could, however, the French man was pulling her away from him, and out of his life for good.

  Chapter 29

  Charlotte watched Duncan’s face fall as she rejected his pleas to stay. She had spent the previous weeks wanting nothing more than to see him, but now that he was trying to keep her near him, she felt nothing but emptiness. She still loved him, of course, but that didn’t serve any purpose. She could love him for the rest of her days, but it would not prevent her marriage to Francois. This time the Comte was there in person to ensure that she boarded the ship to France. She was trapped, and not even Duncan could save her.

  “I am truly sorry, Lord Willeton,” she said, ignoring the Comte and taking Duncan’s hand in hers. “I know that I hurt you, and I will carry that guilt with me forever. But I cannot stay, even to make things right, no matter how much I may wish to do so. I must do this. I only hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  “What if I said that I was the one who was wrong?” Duncan pleaded. “What if I said that you have done nothing that requires forgiveness, and that I will kneel on these very docks, begging for your forgiveness.”

  Charlotte felt a lump in her throat. She understood that Duncan now realized her reasons for the lies and deception, and that he felt responsible for her predicament. The more he begged, the harder it was for her to stick to her resolve.

  “I believe that you have done more than enough for my Charlotte,” the Comte said, trying and failing to step between Duncan and Charlotte. “Thank you for ensuring that she was taken care of, until I could come here to escort her home, but she has me now, and your assistance is no longer required.”

  Charlotte winced at the horrible emphasis the Comte put on the word assistance. Once more, she was reminded of Francois’ accusations about what had transpired between her and Duncan, and it made her angry. Yet even her anger was not enough to give her the courage to deny the Comte and tell him to board the ship alone.

  Charlotte looked at Duncan with a heartbroken smile. She released his hand before Francois could step forward and intervene and motioned for Ruth to follow them. Duncan opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head. She did not think she could bear hearing anything else he had to say. Her heart had already broken; if he said anything more, she was sure that her soul would fracture.

  “Goodbye, Lord Willeton,” she said.

  With a shudder, she took the Comte’s arm, mostly in the hopes of taking his focus off Duncan, and the pair turned toward the ship. Charlotte fought the urge to turn and look back at Duncan. It was hard e
nough to leave him behind without looking back at the face of the man she wanted most in the world but could never have.

  “Fine gentleman,” Francois murmured sarcastically, as they turned away. “I am not surprised that you were so taken with him.”

  Charlotte’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, but she refused to acknowledge the Comte’s remark. She knew enough about the man to know that causing a scene was precisely what he hoped for, and she would not give him the satisfaction. She could no longer rebel against their marriage, but she could deny him the drama on which he seemed to feed.

  They had walked several paces when Charlotte felt a firm but gentle tug on her arm. She glanced down, thinking that Ruth was fumbling to take her hand. But that was not the case. Someone else had her hand.

  “Charlotte,” Duncan said.

  Charlotte stopped mid-step, dumbfounded. Duncan had never called her by her real name. She turned to face him, too surprised to pull her hand from his. Truthfully, she did not wish to pull away from him.

  “You will take your hand off of my fiancée,” the Comte said. “You have no business touching her in such a manner.” He turned to Charlotte. “You have no business allowing a man to touch you at all.”

  Instead of releasing Duncan’s hand, Charlotte squeezed it. She glared at the Comte wordlessly, resisting the urge to point out all the women the Comte had touched before her. Then she turned her attention back to Duncan.

  Before speaking another word, Duncan got down on one knee. Charlotte put her free hand over her mouth, knowing what Duncan was about to do.

  “Charlotte, I love you, and I cannot imagine my life without you,” he said. “I cannot watch you board that ship and sail out of my life forever. I cannot lose you again. Please, say that you will marry me.”

  Charlotte felt as though she might faint. For a moment she forgot about everything around her. All that existed in that moment was her and Duncan, and the proposal she had dreamt of hearing from his lips. She stared into the eyes of the man she loved, the man who loved her, and saw that they were filled with tears that matched her own.

  She looked up, not at Francois but at Ruth, who had closed the distance between them. Ruth’s eyes were full of bright tears, and she had her hands clasped at her chest. The maid nodded fervently and bit her lip, silently pleading with Charlotte. She didn’t need to say her plea aloud. Charlotte knew precisely what she must do.

  Charlotte gently released Duncan’s hand with a soft, sweet smile. Then, she turned to the Comte, putting her hand on his arm, which he was slowly drawing upward as if to strike Duncan.

  “I am sorry, Francois,” she said. “You and I would never have a happy marriage. I would never love you, and I am certain that you do not love me, either.”

  Francois looked at Charlotte with reddened, wild eyes. He clutched her arm and held her firmly.

  “What does love have to do with anything?” he asked. “You were promised to me, and I will have what is rightfully mine.”

  Charlotte shook her head, pulling away from him. She positioned herself between the Comte and Duncan, who now looked as though he wanted to hit Francois.

  “You were made a promise, but it was not made by me,” Charlotte said defiantly. “It is time for me to start making my own decisions.”

  Without waiting for a response from Francois, she turned back to Duncan, taking his hand once more.

  “I love you too, Duncan,” she said. “I am truly sorry for all the pain I caused you.”

  Duncan kissed her hand, tears now falling down his cheeks.

  “If you will accept me as your betrothed now, all is forgiven and forgotten,” he said.

  Charlotte laughed, seeing his eyes sparkle with the boyish humor that she had missed so much since being dragged from his home.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will happily marry you.”

  Duncan leapt from his kneeling position and put his hands on her waist. She could hear Ruth giggle with delight, as Duncan twirled her around in a circle, the two of them laughing with sheer joy. When he finally put her gently down, she looked into his beautiful eyes, happier than she could remember being in many years. He leaned down, she raised her face to meet his, and they shared a sweet, soft kiss.

  The Comte stormed up behind her and tried to grab her hand. Duncan moved swiftly, however, and gave Francois the same smug expression that had been on the Comte’s face just moments before.

  “You will not touch my fiancée in such a way, my lord,” he said. Then, he gently took Charlotte’s hand in his and led her away from the docks, leaving Francois standing there, enraged.

  Chapter 30

  “Oh, dear,” Ruth said as Duncan led her and Charlotte away from the horrid French Comte, who was now yelling after them. Duncan looked back, expecting to see the man following them. He was not, however. In fact, he looked as though he could barely stand.

  “Your family will hear about this, you wench,” Francois shouted. “I will have what was promised to me.”

  Duncan felt his blood heating again, but he kept them moving away from the Comte.

  “My parents will be furious,” Charlotte said.

  Duncan looked over at her, but she did not look distressed. In fact, there was a flush to her cheeks, and her eyes were sparkling with an impish rebellion.

  Duncan grinned at her.

  “You will never have to see them again if you do not wish to,” he said. “We are going back to my home, and they will not be permitted to take you away from me ever again.”

  Charlotte beamed at him.

  “You are too good to me,” she said.

  Duncan paused just long enough to give Charlotte another sweet kiss.

  “This is only the beginning,” he said.

  The carriage ride back to his estate was a lovely one. Charlotte and Ruth chatted excitedly the entire way, and Duncan was happy to sit silently and just watch his dear Charlotte, holding her hand in his.

  He could hardly believe that he had the opportunity to propose to her, and he would never have dreamed that she would say yes, after the way he had spoken to her the day the authorities took her away. He said a silent prayer of gratitude for the fortuitous turn of events and vowed that he would never allow anything to separate the two of them again. Indeed, he planned to marry Charlotte right away, so that no one, and nothing, ever could.

  As they pulled up to the estate, Duncan’s heart sank when he saw his mother’s carriage waiting in front of the house. He had planned to write to her of his plans, to avoid a confrontation between her and Charlotte. It was clear he would not have that option.

  Charlotte also noticed the carriage, and the color drained from her face. Duncan turned to her as the coach slowed to a stop, taking both of her hands in his.

  “Do not worry,” he said. “I will never let her bother you again. I will take care of her.” He thought for a moment, not willing to subject Charlotte to the reaction Duncan was sure that his mother would have to the news. “Please, stay in the drawing room with Ruth. I will speak to my mother alone in the study.”

  Charlotte started to protest, but he gently put a finger to her lips.

  “Please, darling,” he said, smiling at her warmly. “I can handle my mother, but I cannot handle seeing her upset you again.”

  Charlotte looked at him for a moment. Then she smiled and nodded.

  “Very well,” she said. “We will wait in the drawing room for you.”

  Duncan kissed her hands and nodded.

  “Good,” he said. He took a deep breath and helped Charlotte and Ruth out of the coach. Then he led them inside, as quietly as he could, and into the drawing room. He stroked Charlotte’s cheek and closed the door behind him. He squared his shoulders and went to his study.

  The door to the room was open, and Helena was standing beside his desk, her arms folded. She looked at Duncan with narrowed eyes as he entered.

  “Did I hear you arrive with company?” she asked.

  Duncan met her gaze f
irmly.

  “No, Mother,” he said. “I did not.”

  Helena smirked.

  “Surely, you do not think me a fool, darling,” she said. “I heard more than one set of footsteps.”

  Duncan maintained his gaze, standing up straighter, with a smirk of his own.

  “I do not think you a fool,” he said. “But nor did I arrive with company. I arrived with my bride-to-be.” He paused for a moment, noticing that her face began to light up. “And her maid.”

  Helena blinked in puzzlement, but only briefly. In an instant, her expression changed to one of barely concealed disgust.

  “I trust that you do not mean that Beckner woman,” she said. She waved her hand in taunting dismissal. “Or whoever she really is.”