Victor watched her with poorly concealed amusement. “You have only just realized ?”
“I forgot entirely,” she confessed. “Everything happened so quickly.”
She paced a few steps before the fire, suddenly overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all.
Duchess of Mulford.
The title felt impossibly grand upon her shoulders. She had spent years worrying over household accounts and sacrificing comforts so her sisters might eat well, and now society expected her to become a stately duchess.
It seemed absurd.
“I do not think I shall suit the role at all,” she admitted softly.
Victor stood then and crossed toward her. “Why not?”
Charlotte looked at him helplessly. “Because I am me.”
“That explanation lacks detail.”
“I am not elegant like society ladies,” she said. “I speak too plainly and argue too much and become flustered whenever you look at me improperly.”
Victor’s mouth curved slowly. “That last fault is rather charming.”
Charlotte flushed immediately. “You see? Exactly that sort of remark.”
He stepped closer still. “Charlotte.”
Her breath caught at the softness in his tone.
“You underestimate yourself greatly,” he said quietly. “You possess more grace and strength than half the women in London combined.”
She stared at him in surprise.
Victor lifted one hand and lightly brushed his fingers beneath her chin. “My grandmother adores you. Your sisters worship you. Even the servants would march into battle for you.”
“That seems excessive.”
“I assure you, Hannah nearly stabbed me with a hairpin once because she thought I upset you.”
Charlotte burst into startled laughter.
Victor smiled faintly at the sound. “There. That is precisely why you shall make an excellent duchess.”
She shook her head softly. “You say very dangerous things.”
“And yet you keep listening to them.”
The air between them shifted then, growing heavier somehow.
Charlotte became acutely aware of his closeness. Of the warmth radiating from him. Of the way his fingers still lingered lightly beneath her chin. Her pulse fluttered.
Victor’s gaze dropped slowly toward her lips.
“Tell me honestly,” he murmured, “are you frightened of me?”
Charlotte’s breath trembled faintly. “Sometimes.”
His thumb brushed softly along her jaw. “Good.”
