“Actually, I’d like to speak with Elle—with Lady Giselle. Alone, if I might be so bold.”
Elle’s father frowned initially, but then, at the possibility of a pending proposal, allowed his mouth to stretch into a wide smile. “Not at all, my boy. Not at all.” He glanced toward the marquess. “Shall we leave these two to become acquainted?”
Carter’s father agreed and the footman moved to her father’s chair. In less than two minutes, the grand dining room had emptied out, leaving Elle alone with Carter.
She exhaled a shaky breath.
Who Knew?
Carter folded his napkin and waited until the tall double doors had closed behind his and Elle’s parents. The duke had gestured for the servants to clear the room as well, leaving Carter and Elle alone.
His beautiful Elle.
Her eyes were a little red and swollen, but he’d never seen a lovelier sight. And yet, she’d lied to him from the moment they met.
When Mrs. Grey had first handed him the address, he’d concluded that the only reason Elle would reside in such a grand residence was that she must be an impoverished relative of the duke’s. It was the only possible conclusion.
But then he’d seen his father. He might as well have taken a punch to the gut when he’d stepped into that drawing room.
Had he been hoodwinked somehow? By his father? By Elle?
But the conversation had revealed differently. Somehow, by some miracle, all of this was a startling, unlikely, alarmingly confusing coincidence.
It was almost as though fate had orchestrated all of it.
But he didn’t believe in fate.
Furthermore, he’d learned his father would do almost anything to manipulate his three sons. And for that reason, he couldn’t trust it.
Staring at her, he felt so much relief, along with that heightened sense of awareness, and… affection. But he also felt… betrayed. She’d lied about her position in life. She’d pretended to be someone totally different from who she was.
Did he even know her?
Emerald eyes flew open, the color even more vibrant than the elegant gown she wore—another reminder that for over a fortnight she had worn the ugliest gowns possible, no doubt clearly selected to deceive him.
“Did you know?” he asked the young woman who’d wedged her way into his heart.
“That you were nobility? Or that I was the person your father is forcing on you?” She pinched her mouth together. “Of course not. Did you know who I was? That my dowry could provide for the theater for decades to come?”
She might as well have slapped him.
“Of course not,” he said.
They locked onto each other’s eyes, searching for the truth while candles flickered around the room, reflected in the mirrors framed in intricately carved wood. But none of it mattered—not the gold utensils, nor the polished wood that made up the tables, or the plush velvet-covered chairs.
“What is happening?” Elle’s question echoed his own.
Carter had tried, and failed, to keep his distance from the woman seated before him. He’d convinced himself he’d be taking advantage of her—that he had nothing to offer her.
The battle had been hard fought, and… lost.
Or had he won?
Green eyes blazed back at him.
He had not come to this address to meet with the woman of his father’s choosing—he’d come to shake some sense into Elle. He’d come because she’d left him that damned note—and because he’d realized he couldn’t lose her. Not just because of the play, but because she’d brought light into his life. And laughter.
Could she bring him love? She just may have done that already.
