Page 11 of A Lady’s Dangerous Secret (Scandalous Secrets #1)
CHAPTER SEVEN
D uring calling hours, Charlotte was back in the drawing room, adorned in a white-sprigged muslin dress and seated on a cream settee surrounded by suitors.
Her aunt hovered nearby in an eye-catching frock, and directed the men as they came in, artfully placing them in proximity to Charlotte based on their title and fortune.
For the most part, Charlotte aimed for her best aristocratic smile while the gentlemen tried to woo her by any and all means.
She tried to keep a straight face. She had never thought of how many words rhymed with blue .
Every poem or sonnet that presented to her attempted to describe her eyes and somehow find a rhyming counterpart.
The blue of her eyes was likened to dew , hue , and her favorite, coo , which to her knowledge was a massive Highland cow.
For the latter, she could not help but laugh at that particular term of bovine endearment bestowed upon her by a Scottish laird with a gambling problem.
The adventurous ones mentioned her hair, but not one mentioned a word about her personality or anything of substance. Charlotte felt as if she were a painting in a museum, and the gentlemen were standing behind the ropes in a gallery, commenting on her looks from afar.
When these gentlemen attempted conversation, it was the same polite topics that were repeated daily in every Society drawing room or ballroom. It was London, and it was always raining.
Charlotte had just politely put down a cage containing a pair of doves when the room fell silent. For a moment, all she could do was relish the quietness. Then her eyes swept the room until they landed on an imposing figure standing in the doorway.
The Duke of Westcliffe looked dapper in an olive-green double-breasted coat with a cream waistcoat, smartly tied cravat, buckskins, and gleaming, black top-boots.
From his standing position, the Duke looked down, both figuratively and literally, at all the men seated throughout the room who were making fools of themselves trying to win Charlotte’s favor.
She caught the side of his mouth twitch as he raised his eyes from the pups before him and caught her gaze.
She respected His Grace. Despite being kinder than she expected, he still held himself like a duke, with an air of authority that challenged anyone to cross him.
She was not the only one present who felt his power.
The other men shuffled to the side to make room for him as he parted through the sea of suitors with a bouquet in his hand and greeted Aunt Frances and her.
Aunt Frances ushered the seated dandy off the sofa to make room for His Grace. The Duke positioned himself next to Charlotte. “I thought I would deliver my flowers in person.”
Charlotte took the offered bouquet of vibrant pink and yellow flowers. “Thank you, Your Grace. These are beautiful, though I don’t recognize them. They seem exotic,” she said.
“They’re hibiscus flowers,” he explained. “Although I don’t come to London often, we have a flourishing conservatory with a very capable gardener.”
Charlotte rotated the hothouse bouquet in her hands, so she could fully appreciate their beauty.
A few moments passed before her eyes caught movement above the flowers as the suitors left.
The last one or two her aunt swiftly shooed from the drawing room, so Charlotte would have a private audience with the Duke.
“These flowers are absolutely delightful, and their bright colors a welcome respite from the dreary weather.” She grimaced at the final comment, apparently even she was not immune to using meteorology to fill the silence.
“Lady Charlotte, you don’t have to keep up the pretenses. You and I both know you are far more intelligent than to be talking about weather and flowers.”
She glanced around the empty room and saw Aunt Frances give her a nod as she walked to the doorway and loudly stated, “If you insist that I’m needed urgently…”
Her aunt slipped out of the drawing room toward an imaginary crisis, leaving the door slightly ajar for propriety.
Charlotte let out a sigh and allowed her shoulders to slump for a moment. “Thank goodness. That was overwhelming.” Her eyes darted to the Duke. She knew he had just encouraged her to speak more freely, but she likely overstepped the bounds of proper conversation.
Fortunately, he did not look offended. “I’m glad I was here to save you.” He waved his hand dismissively. “They’re boys being forced into marriage, either because they need an heir or they need the funds, not because they’re ready for it.”
Charlotte could not help but raise her eyebrows. “I don’t mean to offend you, Your Grace, but my understanding is that you, too, are in need of one of those things.”
The Duke of Westcliffe appeared amused. “I see that your aunt has apprised you of the situation.”
“Indeed, but I think if we are each clear as to our goals, then we can have a suitable match.”
This time, he raised his eyebrows. “You’re quite unconventional.”
She smiled hesitantly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The Duke laughed, then said, “Yes, it’s most assuredly a compliment.
I had the typical Society marriage with my wife, though I did respect and care for her.
My daughters are in need of a stepmother, and I’m still in need of an heir.
Selfishly, I want a partner I genuinely enjoy spending time with.
” He paused to shift his body so that he faced her.
“I think you would be the perfect match. May I have the honor of formally courting you?”
This request was exactly what Charlotte needed.
Being a duchess would protect her from the gallows, and she had to say yes .
Yet, Charlotte felt a pang of emptiness in the pit of her stomach.
Although she had always assumed she would never marry, in her dreams she thought that if someone ever did take notice of the forgotten fifth , it would be because of a grand love affair.
Instead, if she were being honest, she was chosen as the vessel for procreation.
That pang of emptiness quickly grew into a deep ache as it fully dawned upon her that if she ever did marry, she would never have the love match she had seen in her maternal grandparents.
Grandpapa spoke of her grandmother as if she were an angel who had descended to Earth.
He would always leave her little surprises: a ribbon, a flower, a tart.
Charlotte dragged herself back to the present and gave the Duke a reassuring smile. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”
“Well then, I must call upon your father.”
“Oh no, that won’t be necessary. You can speak with my aunt.”
The Duke looked affronted. “I would think your father would be most pleased.”
“No, no, Your Grace.” Charlotte felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment.
She had just gained the courtship of the Duke…
she could not lose it the next minute. “It has nothing to do with you. Of course, he’ll be thrilled.
I know how busy you are, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to go out of your way to call on him. ”
Charlotte could not let the Duke see how little regard her father had for her and cause His Grace to think that it reflected upon her character. She could not risk anything that would deter the Duke from their nuptials.
“It wouldn’t be a bother. I know your father from the House of the Lords. He’s an affable man.”
Charlotte forced a polite smile on her face. He was so affable that if there was ever a hint of discord, he quickly removed himself from the situation to ensure that affability remained. Her father never wanted to break the cocoon of pleasantness in which he resided.
At this opportune moment, Aunt Frances reentered the room, clearly listening to the conversation on the other side of the door. “Finally! It took some time to escort those gentlemen out of the house,” her aunt recounted. “Your Grace, did I hear you mention a formal courtship?”
“You did. I was just saying that I should call upon Pulverbatch.”
“Your Grace,” her aunt said sternly, “do you think I have not already asked for his permission? I greatly hoped you would court my dear niece, so I already discussed the matter with my brother. He was delighted.”
The Duke shook his head in disbelief. “You never cease to amaze me.”
Her aunt smiled as if this was the greatest compliment ever bestowed upon her. “You have known me too long, Westcliffe. You shouldn’t be surprised. We will see you tonight at the Sotherton Ball?”
“Yes, I’ll be attending for a short time, but then I must leave for another obligation.” With that, the Duke of Westcliffe stood, causing Charlotte to rise from the settee.
“We look forward to seeing you tonight,” her aunt responded enthusiastically.
“I look forward to seeing you as well,” Charlotte said.
The Duke took her hand and placed a kiss on it. He gave her an encouraging smile.
“Your Grace.” She watched him leave and told herself it was the right decision. Little did he know, he was the man who was going to unknowingly save her life.
Later that evening, Charlotte rushed down the stairs of her aunt’s London home to an awaiting town coach with the Hardwicke coat of arms emblazoned on the side.
Aunt Frances would surely scold her for being late, even though she was delayed by the complex coiffure her aunt had demanded Bailey fashion.
Now that Charlotte was officially being courted by a duke, Aunt Frances would not let anything jeopardize the chances of her niece becoming a duchess.
From hair to slippers, Charlotte’s appearance had to be perfect.