Page 11 of Her Temporary Duke (Rakes and Roses #2)

A nother week passed, and Charlotte had still received no word from her sister.

She had written two more letters and allowed enough time for both to be received.

It felt strange to be addressing them to herself, and she could only hope that Amelia was receiving them, reading them.

Why she wouldn’t reply was a mystery, but better than the prospect that her sister had never arrived at Hamilton House.

If that were the case, then she did not know where Amelia could be, let alone where to even begin looking for her.

“Do cheer up, Amelia. We are dining with your betrothed after all. And getting our first glimpse of Hillcrest, which is quite a famous residence,” Francis began.

Amelia sat next to her in the carriage. Claire and Aunt Phyllis sat opposite.

“I do hope that Reginald is able to join us. He works too hard,” Aunt Phyllis fretted.

“He has promised to attend. He was invited after all,” Claire put in distractedly, looking out of the window as they rumbled out westward from London, following the Thames out in the direction of Hampton Court. Small villages passed by frequently, separated by fields and meadows.

And what is Reginald working hard at? He is desperate to raise money for Victoria, but I do not know what business he is engaged in. Apparently, Amelia has lent him money before. Is he gambling with it?

Or perhaps Reginald was staying away out of anger because, in his eyes, Amelia had lied about not having the money to give to him. He thought she was toying with him or insulting him.

Might he say something that gives the game away?

Amelia was no longer enjoying the game . The afternoon spent teaching the Dowager Countess to play Noddy had been excruciating. She had the impression that all present were laughing at her behind their hands and saw a jibe in every comment by the Dowager Countess.

Seth had remained to escort her home, but she had been in no mood to make conversation on the carriage ride. He himself seemed withdrawn and pensive, though she could not imagine what it was about.

I must try harder, for Amelia’s sake. Perhaps he is deciding he no longer wants to be betrothed to her. Until I hear from her, I must prevent that.

But was she doing that because she wanted to ensure Amelia had the choice when she returned of continuing with the betrothal, or because she enjoyed spending time in Seth’s company? He could be infuriating, but he was also handsome and magnetic in his charisma.

“You look quite flushed, Amelia,” Aunt Phyllis noted, “Claire, open the window on your side. Still, I should be glad to see color in your cheeks. It is better than a pallor.”

“Have I had a pallor, Aunt Phyllis?” Charlotte asked innocently.

“Decidedly. And picking at your food beside. Most concerning,” Aunt Phyllis shook.

Charlotte smiled and nodded while her insides were in knots. She remembered the sickness that had taken her mother. Could Amelia have been suffering from the same illness? But why suggest the switch if she were genuinely ill?

The carriage was turning off the road and into a driveway. It wound between tall, dark trees whose boughs met overhead. Presently, the house became visible. It was situated in a clearing with trees on all sides.

The house looked ancient, made of dark stone and leaded glass. It seemed to be brooding.

“Well, Hampton Court is far more pleasing to the eye than this dark place,” Francis commented.

“Do you see the state of the gardens?” Claire scoffed, “Disgraceful. It is not as if the Duke would need to tend them himself. He must have a gardener. It is all overgrown!”

As they disembarked from the carriage, they were greeted by Seth and a butler with dark hair and sloping shoulders.

He stood with hands clasped before him as though eager to be about his job.

Upon being given the nod from his master, he hurried forward to begin unloading the lady's luggage and carrying it inside.

To Charlotte’s surprise, Seth also took a hand. Aunt Phyllis was open-mouthed as he walked around the carriage bearing a heavy case in each arm.

“You carry baggage?” Claire gaped, then added, “Your Grace.”

“We are a traditional house here. Very few servants. My father insisted that we tend ourselves wherever possible. Take note, my dear,” he said to Charlotte with a grin, “you will be expected to take on a good amount of the house when you are Duchess, as is tradition for the Redmaine family.”

Charlotte smiled brightly and deftly snatched her own case from the ground where the butler had placed it.

“That sounds refreshingly new, Your Grace. I look forward to it. I shall carry this one.”

She began walking towards the house, having caught a glimpse of chagrin on Seth’s face.

So, you are trying to push me away. I will not fall for it.

She carried the case into a large hall with a wooden floor and paneled walls. Dusty portraits hung on those walls.

“This way, my lady,” the butler announced, bustling by her and leading the way up the stairs.

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder as she ascended and saw Seth following close behind.

She realized that he would be able to watch her behind as she walked, and flushed at the thought.

She resisted the urge to wiggle for him.

Like the Baroness of Eastwick. She took the chance to escape the card table quickly enough and was making eyes at Seth all afternoon.

She stopped herself as she recognized the beginnings of jealous thoughts.

I am not jealous. Merely protecting my sister’s interests.

The butler led the way to the guest wing of the house. Then showed each of the ladies to a separate room along a hallway that smelled musty and had a row of wide open windows, as though recently aired.

“I will show you to your rooms,” Seth gestured, indicating the end of the hallway.

“Very well. Am I not to take rooms near my Aunt and cousins, then?” Charlotte asked as they turned a corner.

“While you are my guests for the weekend, no. I have a special suite set aside for you. It adjoins my own rooms,” Seth whispered, tapping his nose.

“How convenient,” Charlotte replied faintly.

He opened a door and allowed Charlotte to enter the room ahead of him.

It led to a sitting room, well-appointed, though with old furniture and a faded rug that had seen better days—many of them.

He led her through another door into a small dressing room with mirrors on three walls, then into the bedroom.

It was dominated by a bed with four posts and lace curtains around it. Tall arched windows let in daylight, and a stone fireplace held a crackling fire.

The room smelled of woodsmoke. The chimney probably needed a good sweeping. Any clothes left out while the fire burned would soon smell of smoke, too.

“How quaint,” Charlotte said with a smile, “a definite old-world charm about it. Like stepping back in time.”

She was determined not to be put off by anything Seth did or said—quite resolute, in fact. Part of her suspected that he was doing all of this deliberately.

Trying to make Amelia break off their engagement by behaving in an unacceptable manner. I wonder...

“It is a charming house,” Charlotte beamed, “you must have been very happy here as a child.”

In reality, it seemed a dim and brooding house. She felt sorry for the few servants who still worked here.

“I spend little time here. As little as possible,” Seth commented, “I prefer to live in town.”

“And where do you stay in London?” she asked.

“I have a residence on Fleet Street. The top floor of a house. A garret, really,” he went on, going over to the fire to stir it with a poker. He glanced at her as though to gauge her reaction.

“How… economical,” she replied, opening the wardrobes and cupboards as she explored the room. “I do admire thrift in a man. It is a sensible quality.”

Seth turned suddenly, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Can you cook? I have meant to ask before, but it has always slipped my mind.”

“Cook?” Charlotte said innocently.

Of course, Amelia would be lost in a kitchen, as would most ladies of noble birth in England.

Servants took care of culinary chores. But Charlotte had not lived the life of an aristocrat in Yorkshire.

She had learned to bake as a girl from Mrs. Garret, enjoying the warmth and good smells of the kitchen.

“Why, I do have some knowledge of cooking, yes. Do you expect your Duchess to cook for you?”

Seth’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, and he turned back to the fire. This time, he poked it roughly enough to send sparks soaring up the chimney.

“Possibly, yes,” he muttered.

Charlotte sat on a divan at the end of the bed, folding her hands in her lap.

“Do you wish to be betrothed to me?” she finally asked sincerely.

Seth looked back at her. Charlotte found that she was holding her breath.

It meant nothing to her, but it might be very important for her sister.

It seemed obvious to Charlotte that Seth was trying to present himself well.

Did not seem to care for impressing her. Which was odd behaviour in a suitor.

The only conclusion I can reach is that he is either ambivalent or does not want to marry. In that case, why are we going through this rigamarole?

“Of course I do,” he nodded.

“Do you love me?” Charlotte then asked, quietly.

There was an unbearable thrill running through her at the thought that she might hear those words spoken by him to her.

It would not be to Charlotte that he spoke but to Amelia.

But Charlotte could pretend if she wished.

It would be Charlotte that he would be looking at while he spoke.

Charlotte would be gazing into his eyes.

And they are quite lovely eyes indeed.

“Is that a requirement?” he murmured. “I should say that most marriages between people of our station do not begin with love.”

“I should like mine to. What else drew you to me?”

“Your beauty,” he replied simply, crossing the room towards her, slowly and deliberately until Charlotte was gazing up at him.

She fought to control her breathing but could do nothing about the color in her cheeks. Her mouth felt dry and she wanted to lick her lips but did not want to be seen to be behaving coquettishly.

“There are many beautiful women in London. Am I so remarkable?”

Seth reached out to caress her cheek. Charlotte closed her eyes instinctively. The sensation of his touch was sheer bliss. After a second, she snapped them open again, realizing what she was doing.

He is Amelia’s fiancée, not mine! I cannot be enjoying his touch or even flirting with him. That is tantamount to adultery. And yet, to him, it is not because he believes me to be Amelia!

As she opened her eyes, she saw Seth leaning down to kiss her.

She leaned back and overbalanced, tumbling off the divan.

Seth caught her hand and, at the last moment, pulled her up.

But Charlotte was in a state of panicked confusion now.

She didn’t know if she should be encouraging him or keeping him at arm’s length.

She wanted to enjoy all the intimacy that Amelia would, but knew that to be wrong.

But it was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

Charlotte somehow contrived to kick him as he tried to pull her to her feet. One foot caught him in the midriff, and he staggered, breath leaving him in a rush.

“Oh my, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, horrified as she regained her balance.

Seth was doubled over, wheezing. When he finally straightened, she saw that he was laughing.

“You are a difficult woman to woo, Amelia,” he gasped hoarsely, “and you are by turns graceful as a swan and clumsy as an ox!”

Despite herself, Charlotte laughed too.

“You have a peculiar idea of wooing, Your Grace. Calling your betrothed an ox.”

“I didn’t say you were an ox, merely as clumsy as one. At times. And with a kick like a mule!”

“Well, that will teach you to lunge at me,” she retorted, “you took me by surprise.”

“It should not be a surprise when an engaged man visits his betrothed in her bedchamber. Where is your head at if a kiss is not expected behaviour?” he exclaimed.

“Perhaps I am simply more innocent than you realized.”

“Innocent?” he scoffed, looking at her in a very direct manner.

“Do you imply otherwise?”

He seemed to have recovered. His laughter had died away, and he was staring at Charlotte in a way that was thrilling and uncomfortable, somehow both at the same time.

There are clearly gaps in my knowledge of Amelia’s life, but those gaps are not that big. I know she is innocent when it comes to men.

“No, I would not suggest it,” he finally said. “Once again, I am left wondering if you want to be my wife or not.”

Charlotte looked away. She had challenged him with the same question. For him to be asking it meant he’d had the same thoughts.

“How may I prove it to you?” she asked.

Seth stepped closer, a smile on his face that was positively indecent. Charlotte’s heart raced. She looked into his eyes, captivated.

Perhaps it would not be such a sin if it serves to keep Amelia’s betrothed interested. A kiss is not so bad.

She wished she could make herself feel that she was doing it for her sister, but the excitement she felt was overpowering. Deep down, she could not deny that she was doing this because she wanted to, desperately.

Seth lowered his lips to hers. They touched.

A warmth flooded Charlotte, beginning somewhere deep down within her, suffusing her.

The kiss lingered and deepened. Seth’s arms went about her waist, pulling her body against his.

Charlotte ran her fingers through his hair, tangling them in the blonde locks.

She reveled in the feeling of ownership that this gave her. For a long moment, she could pretend that this was her man—the very thought was intoxicating.

Suddenly, he picked her up by the waist. She squealed in surprise, her cry muffled by his hungry mouth. He carried her back to the divan and sat with her upon his lap.

Charlotte broke away from the kiss with a gasp, looking down at him from her perch. His excitement was palpable, she could feel it against her legs. It was both shocking and thrilling. She knew she should slap his face and stand, run from the room even.

But she did not.

The dream came back to her then. That sinful, wicked, scandalous dream... She grazed a hand down the front of his shirt, feeling the taut muscle beneath. Then she kissed him. Her hands explored the contours of his face, then the powerful muscles of his shoulders and chest.

She kissed his neck, even biting gently, marveling at her own boldness. He whispered her name.

Except it was not her name.

It was Amelia.