Page 15 of Her Temporary Duke (Rakes and Roses #2)

T he carriage stopped outside Wiltons, a restaurant on Jermyn Street not far from St James’s Square. Seth had invited Charlotte to dine with him, the first contact she’d had with him for a week. After her enigmatic encounter with him in the library of Hillcrest Manor, he had been withdrawn.

He didn’t join Charlotte and the Willoughbys for breakfast the next day, not making an appearance until noon.

Later, they had played croquet on the lawn, but Seth seemed out of sorts.

Aunt Phyllis had concocted an excuse that afternoon to allow them to take their leave of Hillcrest and spent the ride home telling Charlotte that she should rethink her betrothal.

Charlotte wished it were that simple.

She alighted from the carriage, wearing another of Amelia’s spectacular dresses. When this was over, she would miss her sister’s lovely wardrobe, miss feeling beautiful. But that feeling was nothing compared to the feeling of being desired.

Which was how she felt whenever Seth looked at her.

Except that he does not desire me, he desires Amelia. Desires her and pushes her away at the same time. Oh, inconstant man!

She entered the tall building, sandwiched between two others, with the name Wiltons spelled out in gold lettering on a sign above its door.

Twin bay windows bulged out beyond the building’s frontage, lit from within by a comforting golden glow.

When she opened the door, a peaceful, subdued babble of voices washed over her—people enjoying good food, wine, and company in a civilized manner.

Entering, she was greeted by a tall, liveried man uniformed in a welcoming smile.

“Good evening, milady. Welcome to Wiltons,” he intoned in the voice of an aristocrat.

“Good evening. I am here at the invitation of the Duke of Bellmonte,” Charlotte said uncertainly.

She did not know the etiquette of such places and hoped that she was behaving correctly. The man’s smile did not slip as he consulted a large ledger on a table at his side.

“His Grace has indeed reserved a table with us, but has not arrived as of yet. I shall have you shown to His Grace’s table.”

He clicked his fingers, and a serving maid appeared, curtsied, and then led Charlotte further into the building. Charlotte wished she did not feel as though everyone was staring at her. She was not used to dining in restaurants or publicly mixing with such people. Amelia would be much more at home.

But if these experiences are to give us a chance to sample a different way of life, then that is precisely what I am getting…

She was shown to a small table in a secluded nook, lit by candles. She sat gratefully, out of sight of the other diners, and was shown a menu. Half an hour later, she felt like she could not simply sit looking at the menu any longer.

She ordered a glass of wine for herself.

Another half an hour passed by. Seth did not appear.

Even out of sight of the other patrons as she was, Charlotte felt under scrutiny.

Felt judged. She tensed each time a servant appeared to enquire if she was ready to order or would like wine, tea, or coffee.

Finally, when an hour and a half of waiting was fast approaching, Charlotte stood and walked briskly back towards the door.

It was a gauntlet of stares and whispers.

The fact that she was pretending to be Amelia Nightingale was a small comfort.

It was like a mask, hiding her true nature and feelings.

But the fact that it was her sister’s name and reputation being harmed made her incensed.

The head servant looked up as she neared the door.

“Is everything to your satisfaction, milady?” he asked solicitously.

“No, it is not,” Charlotte almost snapped, before sighing. “…But it is not the fault of your establishment, I can assure you. The Duke seems to have mixed up his appointments for the evening. Do you happen to know which club the Duke cares for?”

“I believe His Grace is a patron of Catesby’s,” the man replied.

“Excellent. Could you arrange to take me there?”

“Catesby’s…? Are you quite sure? It does not allow admittance to women other than their serving girls...”

“Oh, I won’t be staying. Kindly lay on the carriage if you will. Forthwith,” Charlotte said brusquely, leaving no room for vacillation.

He quickly agreed and clicked his fingers again. A cab was duly summoned and moments later was carrying Charlotte through the evening streets towards Catesby’s.

And if Seth was there? Charlotte, or rather Amelia , would find out where she stood with her infuriatingly inconstant betrothed once and for all.