Charlotte could feel the panic beginning to rise inside her chest.
This is disastrous. Utterly catastrophic.
Victor’s arm slid around Charlotte’s waist before she could react. “By marrying her, naturally.”
Silence fell so abruptly that Charlotte heard her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Marry…me?
Mrs. Holly stared at Victor as though he had announced he intended to join a travelling circus. Elizabeth beamed happily between them. Charlotte, meanwhile, forgot entirely how to breathe.
“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Holly squeaked.
Victor looked supremely bored. “Miss Brown is my betrothed,” he said smoothly. “Surely that fact is no longer surprising to anyone.”
Charlotte turned slowly toward him in utter disbelief. His expression remained perfectly composed, as though he had not just casually announced their marriage to one of the greatest gossips in society.
Mrs. Holly fluttered her fan frantically. “Even engaged couples should not be alone together before marriage,” she snapped. “It is entirely improper.” Victor looked down at the woman with such cold displeasure that Charlotte almost pitied her.
Almost.
“Then perhaps,” he said quietly, “you should concern yourself with your own household rather than mine.”
Mrs. Holly gasped so violently, Charlotte feared the woman might choke. “Your Grace!”
“You spend an astonishing amount of time watching other people,” Victor continued lazily. “One wonders if it is because your own affairs are so dull.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together desperately to stop herself from laughing. Elizabeth, unfortunately, had no such restraint.
“Oh, Victor,” the dowager scolded lightly. “You must not bully poor Mrs. Holly.” She patted the older woman’s arm sympathetically. “Though, to be fair, she has been trying to marry off her daughters for years now.”
Mrs. Holly looked positively stricken.
Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek so hard it hurt. Victor’s shoulders shook faintly beside her, and she realized with astonishment that he was trying not to laugh as well. “Grandmother,” he murmured.
Elizabeth sighed dramatically. “Well, it is true.” She turned to Mrs. Holly kindly. “Do not fret, dear. I am certain someone desperate shall come along eventually.”
Mrs. Holly looked moments away from collapsing. “Your Grace,” she hissed at Victor, “control your grandmother.”
“I assure you,” Victor replied smoothly, “no man living has ever successfully managed such a thing.”
Charlotte stared at him in growing disbelief.
Is he truly doing this? Is he genuinely announcing to society that they will marry?
The words echoed repeatedly through her mind until she thought she might faint from confusion alone.
Marrying me. Victor intended to marry me. Or perhaps he merely meant to protect my reputation.
That explanation made far more sense. It had to. The Duke of Mulford was a notorious rogue who had spent all seasons avoiding respectable women precisely so marriage could never trap him. A man like him would never willingly choose a wife like Charlotte Brown.
And yet his hand remained firm at her waist.
Mrs. Holly recovered enough to narrow her eyes suspiciously. “Then when is the wedding to take place?”
Charlotte nearly choked.
Victor answered without hesitation. “Soon.”
