He does not have work to do. He is simply avoiding me.
“I see,” she muttered, trying not to reveal any specific emotion at the idea. “Well, thank you for keeping me company, Isobel. It is very kind of you.” She forced a smile, finding it harder and harder now she knew that the duke was avoiding her completely.
“Of course. I am happy to keep you company, my Lady.”
“I think I shall retire to my chamber now. Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” Charity stood from her chair and left the room. Now she was beginning to learn the layout of the house, she could traverse it alone, yet she heard Isobel following closely behind her.
Those steps were never so near as when Charity was on the staircase, making her way up by herself, with her hand on the banister. Isobel fussed by her side, clearly nervous.
“Are Shelby and Rufus with the Duke?” Charity asked, trying to hide her disappointment that she hadn’t seen them for half the day either.
“I am not sure, my Lady.”
Charity reached the landing and hurried toward her chamber, finding the door. Yet when she got near the door, her elbow caught something.
“What was that?”
“Oomph!” Isobel winced. “Not to worry, my Lady. I caught it. It was one of those tall plants on the landing.”
Charity glared in the direction of the potted plant, as if it had tricked her by being there. Already angry at not being able to speak to the duke all day, anything such as the potted plant was now an irritation.
She fumbled to find the door, quickly now, and turned the handle, hastening inside. Behind her, Isobel followed.
“I will light a fire for you.”
“Thank you, Isobel.” Charity stood where she believed she was in front of the fire. When the warmth started to fill the room, she turned a little to her right, realizing she had been facing the wrong direction, but only slightly. “That will be all for tonight. I might have an early night and go to bed.”
“Very well, my Lady. If you require anything else, just pull the cord. I shall see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”
“Thank you. You too.” Charity forced a smile again and waited for the door to be closed behind Isobel. As the footsteps faded down the corridor, Charity dropped to her knees in front of the fire and rubbed her hands together, trying to stay warm. “Sleep well indeed,” she muttered to herself.
The only reason she had slept well the night before was because the duke had stayed beside her all night. He would not come tonight though, would he? Not when she had been mad enough to tell him that a wild part of her thought she might be able to marry him instead of Baron Tynefield?
“I will be put in Bedlam by the end of the week at this rate.” Angered at herself as much as the whole situation, she kicked off her shoes and moved to her feet again, walking across the room with a hand outstretched as she tried to find the changing screen.
Earlier that day, Isobel had brought her some spare clothes, including a night shift that she had laid down behind the screen. Isobel had also offered to help her change, but Charity had promptly dismissed the idea.
Presently, she hurried to untie the gown and step out. She was trying to hold onto some sort of relief and happiness.
Today, she was supposed to have married Baron Tynefield, yet she had escaped him. Did he go to the church and wait for her,she wondered? Did her father send word in advance, or did he have to arrive at the church and stand in front of all of those people, telling them there would be no wedding? How did he explain her disappearance?
Did Kenneth and Edith stand at the front with their father, both desperately trying to tell some awful story that they hoped would maintain the family’s good reputation?
Charity untied the stays where the laces fastened at the front around her bust, then lowered that to a small coffer beside her. Stepping out of her shift and her stockings, she laid them down with the gown and stays, then reached for the night shift and drew it over her head.
It was a little long for her, with the hem brushing the ground, but ultimately, it fitted fine. It was a delicate material, but thick enough to offer some warmth against the winter chill.
Charity stepped around the screen and moved back toward the fire, standing in front of the flames to warm herself. She carefully found the mantelpiece with her hand and shifted herself to stand near the flames, but not too close.
There was a knock at the door.
“You can come in, Isobel,” Charity called without really thinking. Perhaps Isobel was bringing her a glass of water to see her through the night, or insisting once more she help her change.
The door creaked open, but strangely, Isobel’s merry voice didn’t follow. Charity whipped her head toward the door, the scent of sandalwood filling her nostrils.
“Your Grace?” she murmured in the next moment, scarcely believing it was him.
“Please, do not stand so close to the fire.”
