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“Why do you hold the Baron in such low regard? What has he done to upset you?”

Frederick appeared more prepared for her question this time, hardly showing any emotion whatsoever as he set to dealing once more. As they collected and arranged their cards, they reached through the exchange before Frederick spoke up.

“He has done something that affects my estate.”

Charlotte paused, waiting for more. Apparently, her husband would be answering each question about the Baron as vaguely as possible indeed. She bristled, glaring across the table at him.

Still, the game proceeded through two more rounds, Frederick claiming one and her the other. He asked her about what she enjoyed most in the city, adding that he guessed it would be the drums and parties held by Amelia and the others of station in her friend group.

“I do enjoy seeing my friends, but I will confess that I prefer it when our get-togethers are kept small. I have also been to the occasional performance at the theatre. That has been my very favorite.”

Frederick seemed as tickled as ever by her answer. Still, when she again inquired about the Baron and sought to encourage the man to open up about his situation, Charlotte was shut down yet again.

That’s it. I’ve had quite enough.

Setting her cards down, Charlotte glared at her husband. “Now really. I have answered your questions quite honestly, Frederick. I have supplied details as well. And yet you continue to barely speak a response to mine. It seems hardly fair.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Charlotte watched something flicker to life behind Frederick’s eyes.

“My sincerest apologies, Charlotte. If you are displeased by my answers, I could always remove an article of clothing instead.”

She sat back in her chair, utterly shocked and blanching from her head to her feet. Holding her hand up in front of her mouth, Charlotte let out a gasp and then scoffed angrily as she slapped her hand down on the table.

“How dare you! I am a lady, Frederick Lawrence. Aduchessnow. I can’t believe you would suggest such a thing.”

“Apologies,Your Grace. How could I assume something so bold of you? It was my mistake.”

Frederick kept his expression as calm as ever, and it only served to infuriate Charlotte more. Her skin burned, her cheeks the worst source of the flames. She could also feel her pulse dancing in her neck. Her husband brought out the worst in her, her mind skittering between forced images of Frederick without his shirt and the furious stare he had thrown at the Baron.

You must not let him rile you so, Charlotte. Keep your head.

“I believe your attempts to continue this evening have fallen short, Frederick.” She raised her brows, keeping a calm countenance. “I am tired. Allow me to escort you to the door.”

Frederick smirked, still feeling proud of himself, no doubt. But he cleared his throat, setting down his cards and getting up from the table. As he straightened his waistcoat, her husband walked casually to the door, and Charlotte trailed behind him.

She reached for the handle as the man paused and pulled open her door. “Good night.”

Casting a glance just past her, Frederick’s stare found something that intrigued him because his brows pinched together curiously as he cocked his head.

“You have quite the collection of letters at your bedside, Charlotte.” He met her eyes again, mischief gleaming. “Does your lover have quite the thing or two to say about our marriage?”

Charlotte glared, clenching her jaw to keep herself from snapping at him. That’s precisely what Frederick wanted. Instead, she gestured out into the hallway, plastering on a dulcet smile that was too much sugar that could not hide the venom feeding it.

“I believe I said good night, Frederick.” She smiled all the more. “I shall see you tomorrow. At breakfast.”

He only grinned back at her, turning and leaving the room without another word. Charlotte closed up her room once the Duke was just past the threshold and locked her door. Fury made her blood boil, and she made quick work of getting undressed without the aid of a servant.

She would not see anyone else that evening. Charlotte had quite enough of company to last a lifetime. And it would take an act of God to get her playing piquet again.

Chapter Six

Charlotte squeezed the fabric of her dress enough that her knuckles ached. Frederick was downstairs in the study, doing what she had no idea. Unfortunately, she was forced to go to him and interrupt.

Asking for permission had never been a strong suit of Charlotte’s. Everyone knew that she was a rather bold woman, as much as circumstances would allow, and she was also remarkably used to being turned down. Magnus was a tight-fisted man, not only with his finances.

While she understood that he was thinking of her protection, her reputation, it still infuriated Charlotte that her brother so often let his attachment to propriety take precedence over what might be morally right or better for someone emotionally.

Pragmatic to a fault was always how she described him.