Charity’s breath caught, because she had not expected the word frightened, not from him.
“You were worried?” Charity said.
Duncan’s mouth tightened.
“Call it what you like, but do not do it again.”
Charity felt a strange softness bloom in her chest, warmth that made no sense when she had been furious only moments before, and she hated it.
“I did not mean to,” Charity said, and she forced herself to sound practical. “I only saw her…”
“I know what you saw,” Duncan cut in, and there was impatience in it again. “That is why I am telling you now, while we are still alive to speak, that you will not do it again, because you have responsibilities that cannot be fulfilled if you are dead.”
Charity nodded once, because she could not argue with that, and because the way he spoke of responsibility made her believe he understood it rather than merely using it as a tool. For a brief moment, the quiet between them felt almost steady. Then Duncan’s gaze sharpened again, and Charity knew the moment had passed.
“And you,” Duncan said, and his tone hardened slightly, “you will also remember that we have an arrangement.”
Charity’s body went still, because the word arrangement always pulled her back from warmth to reality, and she felt the old defensiveness rise, not loud, but cold, because she could not bear the idea of being softened and then reminded she was a bargain.
“You do not need to remind me,” Charity said, and she kept her face composed even as her stomach tightened. “I have not forgotten what I agreed to.”
Duncan studied her, and for a second Charity could not read him at all.
Perhaps he intended to soften it, perhaps he intended to explain, but Charity did not wait, because waiting felt like letting him hold the conversation in his hands.
“I will repay you,” Charity said, and she made herself sound calm, because she would not give him the satisfaction of hearing emotion in her voice. “You wanted a wife and an heir, and you shall have both, so do not concern yourself with whether I remember my side of it.”
Duncan’s gaze flickered, and something tightened in it, though Charity could not tell if it was anger or something else.
He opened his mouth as if he would respond.
Charity turned before he could, because she did not trust herself to stand there and hear him say something that would make her regret the softness she had felt a moment ago.
She walked back towards the carriage with her chin lifted, aware of Augusta’s eyes on her through the window, aware of Matilda’s anxious face, and aware, too, of Duncan behind her, silent,watching, and she told herself that she did not care what his gaze meant, because caring would only make her weak again.
When she reached the carriage door, she paused, forcing herself to breathe, and then she climbed in with as much steadiness as she could manage, because whatever had just passed between her and Duncan, she was still the sister her sisters needed.
Augusta’s eyes met hers immediately. “Well,” Augusta said, and though she tried to make it sound casual, her voice shook. “Has he decided whether we are permitted to breathe again?”
Charity kept her tone mild. “We are leaving,” Charity said. “We are going to Blackstone, and we are going to do it quickly, and you are both going to stay inside the carriage, no matter what you feel. Do you understand me?”
Augusta’s lips pressed together, but she did not argue again, not after what she had just seen. Matilda reached for Charity’s hand under the blanket, her fingers cold.
“Are we going to be all right?” Matilda asked.
Charity squeezed her hand. “Yes, we are going to be all right.”
Yet even as she held Matilda’s hand and watched Augusta stare out the window with tight, furious silence, Charity could not quite shake the memory of Duncan’s voice when he admitted he had been worried, because no one had been worried about Charity in a very long time, and the fact that it mattered to her,even a little, was inconvenient in a way she did not know how to fix.
CHAPTER 10
“Augusta…” Charity found herself sighing. “I have never known you to be a problem child like this. What has gotten into you?”
They had arrived at Blackstone Estate a few hours ago, which was a massive and sprawling structure. Bigger than anything that Charity was used to. The place had welcomed them, even though they had arrived rather awkwardly.
Immediately, they had been assigned their chambers, and a meal had been prepared for them.
“What have I done now?” Augusta replied in an annoyed tone.
