“For what?” Charlotte asked.
“For unpredictability,” he replied, then stepped inside.
An older woman sat by the window, her silver hair neatly arranged, her expression brightening at once upon seeing them.
“Victor,” she said warmly, then her gaze shifted to Charlotte, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh,” the dowager said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I never thought I should live to see the day.”
Charlotte blinked, exchanging a brief glance with the duke.
“I beg your pardon, grandmother?” he said carefully.
“The day you bring your betrothed to meet me,” the dowager continued, her voice trembling with emotion. “She is lovely, my dear boy.”
CHAPTER 2
Victor looked at Charlotte, “So, my betrothed, is it?”
Charlotte said softly, “I assure you, Your Grace, that I am no such thing.”
His brow lifted slightly, his amusement lingering. It had been a while since he had such an amusing moment. His gaze lingered over this curvy woman, and for a brief moment, he sized her up as if she had been presented to him as a prospect for marriage.
“Indeed?” He asked.
He watched her shift uncomfortably and a blush reached her cheeks. She looked up at him through dark lashes with her brown eyes.
Charlotte scoffed softly. “Pray do not make a joke at this time,” she said.
Victor restrained the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her, simply to receive more amusement at this new game.
He looked at his grandmother; the dowager looked between them, her confusion evident.
“Well,” she said slowly, “this is not at all how I imagined it.”
Charlotte straightened, composing herself with effort. “Nor I, Your Grace,” she muttered.
And yet, Victor stood there, acutely aware of his gaze on the curve of her full bosom.
This may serve to be far more diverting than I anticipated.
Victor regarded the scene before him with a quiet sort of amusement, one brow lifting ever so slightly as his grandmother beamed at Miss Charlotte Brown as though she had personally delivered a miracle.
He had expected composure, perhaps even polite patience, but not the spark of indignation that had so quickly followed the misunderstanding. It was refreshing, in its way.
“Grandmother,” he said smoothly, stepping forward, “this is Miss Charlotte Brown. Would you like it if she spent more time with you?”
The Dowager Duchess clasped her hands together, her delight entirely unrestrained. “I would like that very much,” she said warmly, her eyes never leaving Charlotte’s face. “Such a lovely girl, Victor, and with such fine manners.”
Victor allowed his gaze to flick briefly to Charlotte, noting the careful control in her posture, the faint tension in her shoulders, and the unmistakable intelligence in her eyes. He found himself rather curious.
He stepped closer, leaning just enough that his voice would not carry beyond her ear, and he could not resist the subtle satisfaction when she stiffened at once. “Well,” he murmured, his tone low and edged with quiet amusement, “it is obvious my grandmother approves of you, which places you at a distinct advantage.” He paused deliberately. “Why do we not go downstairs and discuss matters further?”
Charlotte turned her head just slightly, her composure admirable despite the faint tightening of her jaw. “Of course, Your Grace,” she said evenly.
She stepped away from him at once, turning back to his grandmother with a polite smile. “It was very lovely to meet you, Your Grace.”
She curtsied with practiced grace.
