“Your sisters shall enjoy London enormously,” Elizabeth continued happily.
“Oh dear heavens, yes, they will,” Charlotte said.
Elizabeth grinned mischievously into her tea. “Your sisters have spirit? Men enjoy spirit.”
Charlotte thought privately that men mostly enjoyed being obeyed. Victor certainly seemed accustomed to obedience. Though strangely enough, he also appeared to enjoy arguing with her entirely too much.
Her thoughts drifted toward him again before she could stop them. She remembered his hand at the small of her back. His fingers lift her chin gently. The heated look in his eyes before he kissed her. The restless intensity that occasionally slipped through his careful composure when they stood too close together.
Charlotte pressed her lips together firmly.
This will not do.
It was dangerous enough pretending to be engaged without developing genuine feelings for the man. Because Victor would never truly love anyone. She knew that instinctively now. There was something lonely about him beneath all the charm and arrogance. Some guardedness he hid carefully behind wit and flirtation.
And unfortunately, Charlotte found herself wanting to understand it.
A terrifying prospect.
Elizabeth interrupted her spiralling thoughts yet again. “You are thinking about Victor.”
Charlotte stared at her. “What?”
The dowager smiled serenely. “You make the same face whenever he enters a room.”
Charlotte felt genuine horror. “What face?”
“A very pretty one,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh dear God, do I?” Charlotte said, surprised.
Elizabeth laughed outright now while Charlotte covered her burning cheeks with one hand.
“You need not look so distressed,” the older woman teased. “You are only in love.”
Charlotte nearly fell off the sofa. “I most certainly am not.”
“Mmm. If you say so,” Elizabeth took a sip of her tea.
“I am serious, Your Grace,” Charlotte said.
“And so am I, for why else would you agree to marry my grandson?” Elizabeth said.
Charlotte pointed accusingly with her teaspoon. “You are impossible, just like him.”
Elizabeth merely sipped her tea, looking entirely satisfied with herself. Charlotte groaned softly and sank back against the cushions.
This household truly will be the death of me.
* * *
Charlotte spotted the duke the moment she stepped out onto the terrace doors and into the garden. He walked slowly along the gravel path with his hands clasped behind his back, his dark coat fitting his broad shoulders far too well for her peace of mind. The afternoon sun caught against his black hair, and Charlotte immediately regretted coming after him at all.
Still, she had come with purpose, and purpose was far safer than admiring a handsome man who kissed like sin and argued like Parliament.
She straightened her shoulders and walked after him beneath the arching hedges. “Your Grace, may I have a word?” she called.
Victor turned at once, and that dreadful, dashing smirk appeared upon his face. “Miss Brown,” he drawled, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “You approach me as though you are marching toward an execution.”
