DukeAndEnchantress_PGolden-eBooks

by Golden, Paullett

  Two days before they arrived, Charlotte discovered a diamond and emerald hair comb on her dressing table, which she resolved to wear at the end of the week for the dinner party she had arranged for her aunt and sister, along with the emerald necklace. The dinner party would be her first solo prepared event at the manor and would include a small collection of the country gentry from both Northumberland and North Yorkshire.

  The day before they arrived, her ensemble for the dinner was finalized with a birthday gift of a Kashmir shawl. No longer suspicious of the sudden onset of gifts, she welcomed them with glee. The shawl had been waiting for her in the dressing room, another gift from her husband. Accompanying the gift was a hastily sketched note wishing her a birthday as beautiful as she and filled with abundant happiness. Unable to help herself, she pressed the note to her bosom and twirled about the room.

  The day of the arrival, Charlotte thought more of Drake than she did of the impending reunion. The past several days had been the most pleasant she had spent since coming to the manor. Lady Annick actually encouraged Charlotte to see to all of the preparations for the guests and design the dinner party on her own.

  Without a housekeeper, Charlotte instructed the maids herself as to which rooms to ready and how the rooms should best be prepared. She chose which staff would greet her aunt and sister at the entrance of the manor and even chose the groom, who would keep watch on the road to notify them of the approaching coach—a task Philip accepted with pride.

  Charlotte waited in the parlor for the announcement. That morning, a servant from the Black Swan Inn had arrived with a missive from Hazel and Liz with their estimated time of arrival. To say Charlotte waited anxiously was an understatement. She sat in the parlor feigning embroidering, her hands shaking more than sewing. She threaded, unthreaded, and rethreaded. Every sound, every footfall caused her heart to race. Soon! Soon her aunt and sister would be here with her! Her heart could burst from the excitement.

  Despite the familial flaws, she felt proud they would see Lyonn Manor and know she was mistress of such a grand estate, the duchess of a dukedom.

  Although they would spend the first day or two in the Red Drawing Room as the formal receiving room for all visitors, she couldn’t wait to show them the Gray Parlor, her special place. She had made it truly hers. The settee was newly positioned against the window looking out to the walled rose garden. The chairs faced the fireplace with the two mounted paintings of Charlotte and Drake where a mirror used to hang. The mirror now hung on the wall facing the back windows, reflecting the garden and bringing more light to the room.

  Charlotte loved the new portraits. The painter had taken so long to finish them that she had begun to lose hope in ever seeing them. For all the artist’s faux French flair, and for all the difficulty she gave him during the session, the painter knew his art.

  The paintings captured their essence, not only their beauty. Charlotte’s own painting reflected her eagerness to reign supreme, the bright-eyed hope of a future at the estate glinting in the painted eyes. Drake’s painting wasn’t at all of him, but rather of The Composer. Drake’s smug, flirty lopsided grin was nowhere to be found in the artwork. Instead, The Composer stood in the painting, staring out at Charlotte with such intensity, she felt weak-kneed with desire. How the painter had captured them both so well when they’d been quarreling the whole time, she could only wonder.

  Oh, yes, she couldn’t wait for them to see the parlor. In this room, she felt most at home. She could admire The Composer, remind herself of the happiness she felt at first seeing Lyonn Manor, bask in the redecoration success, and above all else, spend time with Captain Henry who often perched on the back of the settee to help her with the embroidery, though he preferred unraveling her thread to any other occupation.

  For most of the morning, Charlotte thought what she would say to them. Her letter had been written in a desperate panic, a sentiment she no longer harbored, not after the week of gifts, not after the nuncheon.

  Of course, she still found Catherine intimidating, and her marriage was far from healed, but she didn’t feel the sense of urgency as when first writing the letters two weeks prior. Both Aunt Hazel and Lizbeth would arrive expecting to find her miserable. Far from happy, she did at least now have a grain of hope to which she clung. She had come to somewhat of an understanding with both Drake and Catherine—a truce, as Drake had called it.

  Prioritizing her concerns seemed the most sensible approach to discussing her life with Aunt Hazel and Liz. Before taking up her embroidery, she had made a tidy list, organizing what she wanted to say and how she might say it. While Catherine hadn’t moved out yet and was still pulling the strings, she didn’t see her as a discussion priority. Drake was the priority. Her marriage was the priority. Without resolving the conflicts, she could never expect him to stand up for her, much less fall in love with her.

  Explaining the problems to her family wasn’t so simple. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she made a poor choice in marrying Drake. No, she wanted her happily ever after, and so help her, she would get it. But could she relay the concerns and desires to Hazel and Liz?

  Well, you see, I despise the crass and pompous man I married because he prefers to spend his time attending orgies of young boys and older widows, but I’m keen to fall in love with a man I call The Composer who leaves me secret messages in the form of sonatas. Oh, and did I mention that the two men are one and the same? That simply wouldn’t do.

  I need to find a way to consummate my marriage with Drake’s alter ego behind my arrogant husband’s back. That would be even worse, not to mention equally as nonsensical.

  You see, I dressed in grooms clothing and road on the back of a carriage to catch my husband with his mistress only to find him in a room full of grape-feeding Roman decadents, after which time I decided I wanted a love affair with a composer hidden inside the body of my husband. Nothing seemed to do. No matter how she worded it, she sounded half mad.

  For all the prioritizing and list writing, she couldn’t decide how to describe the problems. Asking how to seduce one’s husband wasn’t exactly a drawing room conversation she wished to have, and how could she even explain the kind of seduction she wanted—a seduction of body and soul, where her husband would be so enamored with her that he would worship the ground she walked on, want to spend all of his time with her, get to know her, compose for her, perform music with her, and lest he not forget, be made love to by her, with her determining when and how?

  Bit difficult to seduce a man when she didn’t know the first thing about making love, and she certainly didn’t know how to tantalize him into falling for her. Her country charm had been enough to snare admirers in London, even catching Drake in the end, but she needed more than fluttering eyelashes to ensure a successful marriage.

  The kiss had been something to go on. As much as she’d enjoyed his attentions in London, he was always so possessive, so needy and insistent. When she kissed him in the music room, she was able to take the lead. It had been an empowering moment for her. If she could sort out how to seduce him where she took the lead, she wouldn’t have the same fit of nerves as on her wedding night. At least in theory.

  Could Aunt Hazel and Lizbeth guide her in such complex needs, especially when she failed at the words to explain her needs?

  The time to plan was at an end, as Drake himself flung open the parlor door to announce the carriage had been spotted crossing the bridge before the gatehouse. Mr. Taylor had shuffled off to fetch Catherine and Mary in the conservatory, as well as assemble the welcome committee of servants.

  “Oh, Drake! They’re really here!” she exclaimed, carelessly tossing her embroidery on the side table as she rushed to the door to join him.

  Captain Henry squawked at the fuss she was making. Wouldn’t the cockatoo be delighted to see his Auntie Lizzie!

  Drake smiled and offered his arm. “I’ll resist the urge t
o rush to my study and write a note to Sebastian that his lady fair has arrived. He did say I should notify him the minute they arrived, not a moment later,” he teased, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “Don’t you dare! And no more teasing, especially in front of Lizbeth. She would be mortified! I will not have my special day ruined by your tasteless matchmaking.” Charlotte swatted at his arm before taking it.

  They walked into the gallery and headed towards the manor entrance.

  Drake, Charlotte admired, appeared in rare form, as spirited as she remembered him being before the marriage, full of smiles and goodwill. He bounced with each step, as eager for company as she, although she suspected for quite different reasons. He likely saw this as a perfect opportunity to shamelessly flirt with her aunt and tease his sister-in-law.

  Before long, they were all assembled in a line in front of the manor, watching the carriage jostle its way down and around the hilly drive. The luggage coach must have been sluggish, as it wasn’t immediately following their carriage. Charlotte didn’t worry. There would be maids enough to help Hazel and Liz freshen up between arriving and socializing until their own lady’s maids arrived with the luggage.

  Unwittingly, she squeezed Drake’s arm as the carriage drew closer. If she’d thought about it, she would have found it humorous given he was the reason she requested their visit in the first place.

  She eyed her husband as they stood waiting for the carriage. Despite her emotional struggle the past month, she had to admit he was as handsome as ever, laced and frilled for the occasion, dressed to impress this mid-morning in his taught buckskins, Hessian boots with silver tassels, blue embroidered waistcoat and coat that matched the sapphire of his eyes, an elegantly knotted cravat, and his devilishly tussled hair with almond scented pomade. His attire showcased his long and lean physique to perfection, she observed, making her warm with desire in memory of the music room kiss.

  For a moment, she forgot about the approaching carriage and lost herself in the magic of that memory. His lips had been soft, his flavor an intoxicating mix of brandy and amour. Oh, how she hoped Hazel and Liz could help her find a way into his heart.

  As if sensing her gaze, Drake looked down at her and winked. How foolish to be admiring her husband when her family was nearly upon them. She flushed.

  The carriage rolled to a stop, a groom rushing to place the steps and open the door. Charlotte could see a length of fluttering plumes flapping through the carriage window. Her heart leapt with joy. Next to her, Mary rocked back and forth on her heels, excited to make their acquaintance. Catherine stood on the other side of Mary, tall and proud, her gold handled cane thumping impatiently on the gravel.

  The groom held his hand to aid first Aunt Hazel, wearing a wide-brimmed hat with sky-high ostrich feathers and a lively travel gown with lacy sleeves, and then Lizbeth, adorned in a simple country carriage dress but at least in the newest style of the high waist, a smart pelisse, and an amethyst cameo hanging about her neck.

  Charlotte waited for no one. She raced over to her aunt and sister, arms outstretched in welcome and embraced them both, one after the other. Before she could introduce them, Drake strode to them and to everyone’s surprise drew in both ladies with a familial hug.

  “My two favorite beauties!” Drake exclaimed, taking Hazel and Liz on each arm and directing them to his mother and sister.

  When the trio stood before Catherine, Charlotte standing behind them feeling both glad that Drake was so welcoming and jealous that he was hogging the show, Drake introduced everyone.

  “Mother, this is Hazel, The Lady Collingwood, and this is Miss Trethow.” Turning towards Hazel and Liz, he said, “And this is my mother, the Dowager Duchess of Annick, and my sister, Lady Mary.”

  Catherine inclined her head, while Mary rushed up in greeting, taking both of their hands in her own.

  Charlotte seized the opportunity to gain back control of the welcome. Stepping next to her sister, she said, “You must be exhausted. Mr. Taylor will show you both to your rooms, and I will see that a maid is sent up so you may relax and refresh. Shall we meet in the Red Drawing Room in, say, two hours?”

  Charlotte waited in the Red Drawing Room with Mary and Drake for her aunt and sister to resurface from their brief respite. She had scheduled the day to perfection to demonstrate her prowess for hosting and to offer them all the comforts they could imagine while visiting.

  In anticipation of their return from upstairs, Stella brought in the tea tray and smiled brightly at Charlotte before leaving.

  Like clockwork, Aunt Hazel joined them. Liz, forever carefree with no sense of time, would undoubtedly arrive to the drawing room late. Hazel bustled over to the group.

  “Oh, Charlotte! I am as happy as a mistle thrush! What a beautiful home this is, and you are lovelier than ever.” Hazel sat next to Charlotte in one of the chairs facing Mary.

  Drake stood in front of the marble fireplace, one arm on the mantle, the other holding his snuffbox as he flipped the lid open and shut with incessant clicks. He beamed at Hazel when she sat, a glow in his expression.

  “And you, my dear Hazel,” he said, “will steal my heart before the month has ended!”

  Hazel reached for her ivory handled fan and fanned her face.

  “You’re a dreadful flirt, young man, but I appreciate your attentions to this old lady!” Hazel tittered.

  Drake stepped over to Charlotte, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But, alas, today is for Charlotte. She has been looking forward to your visit for two weeks.” He squeezed Charlotte’s shoulder. “You’ll be most pleased by the strides Charlotte has made in running the manor, Hazel.”

  Charlotte reached over to take Hazel’s hand. “Oh, Auntie, it has been a whirlwind of learning! I have so much to tell you. Later today, shall I show you and Liz the manor? The Gray Parlor is a must see, and Captain Henry will be beside himself in feathery happiness to see you both.”

  Charlotte paused to breathe then hurried into more excited chatter, feeling more like herself than she had in a month. “I must introduce you to the Hallewells. They are wonderful company. Lady Hallewell has visited every week since I arrived and brings with her all the gossip that country living can offer.”

  “My goodness, little butterfly, calm your excitement!” Hazel teased. “I declare I shall enjoy this visit enormously. I believe Liz is all eagerness to walk about the gardens, though. You know how she loves to explore the outdoors.” Hazel turned as the drawing room door opened.

  Lizbeth entered, then, following a formal announcement of her entry by the butler, and Charlotte readied tea for everyone, adding a healthy helping of milk to her own. After serving refreshments, she watched Drake for the next half hour as he gave her relations a tour of the portraits.

  She enjoyed Drake’s animation and welcomed the delay of having to talk alone with her aunt and sister. Still undecided how to express her needs, she embraced the postponement Drake’s talkativeness afforded her.

  She wanted them there with her, but she couldn’t put into words exactly what she needed from each of them. From her aunt, she needed the intimate guidance only a married woman could give, all questions she’d have to ask without Liz’s presence, for an unmarried woman could not be party to such a conversation. From her sister, she needed comfort and companionship only a sister could give, and there could be no better sister for that than Liz who was the embodiment of love and understanding.

  Both Aunt Hazel and Lizbeth anxiously glanced over at her throughout the half hour, but Charlotte refused to feel guilty for letting Drake talk. She needed this time to gather her wits. Only, by the time she set herself to wit gathering, Drake none-too-subtly dragged Mary out of the room with promises of horseback riding despite the looming clouds.

  At last, the three sat alone in the room. Charlotte studied the threads of the rug.

  After silent minutes
passed, in answer to the expectant looks Hazel and Liz gave her, she stumbled through descriptions of her duties as a duchess, the bazaar she hosted, and anything she could think of to put off the inevitable. They were nonplussed.

  Only when they asked her directly how life was progressing with Drake did she confess concisely that the honeymooners did not share affection. And in that magic way that Aunt Hazel always possessed, she understood the problem without Charlotte having to say another word. A weight Charlotte hadn’t been aware of lifted from her shoulders as soon as Hazel spoke.

  “Make him love you,” commanded Hazel. “He’s a young man still wet behind the ears. He doesn’t know what he wants only what he thinks he wants, so teach him that you’re what he wants. Seduce that man, Charlotte! That’s an order!”

  As reassuring as Hazel’s knowledge in marital arts, Charlotte hadn’t anticipated the humiliation of the words said aloud. If Charlotte could have found a hole to crawl into, she would have. Seduction? Love? Charlotte flushed.

  Her aunt wasn’t finished. “The longer you wait, the less chance you’ll have. He’ll seek his pleasures elsewhere just like every other aristocratic husband. Seduce him well enough, and he will fall in love with you. If you can stomach the embarrassment, I will share some of my best kept secrets, although not in the presence of Lizbeth.”

  For that, Charlotte was eternally thankful. With little prompting, Hazel agreed to meet her in her sitting room after dinner. The evening couldn’t come soon enough.

  After dinner, Charlotte waited in the upstairs sitting room, her palms sweaty. She had barely touched the food from thinking over Hazel’s words. Make him love her? If she had the power to do that, he would already be infatuated. How could she make Drake love her? Could she even accomplish such a feat as to make him love her? While she knew little of love, she doubted anyone could be made to do something they didn’t want to do. Would Drake want to love her?