Page 13 of Married to the Icy Duke (Duke Wars #3)

Before Charlotte could respond to this, the carriage rolled to a halt entirely.

They were here.

A footman in black livery, accented only by the tiniest strips of red, hurried down the steps to open the carriage door. Thalia climbed up first, and then Charlotte.

The place looks much different in the daylight, she thought, delicately stepping down onto the gravel.

The next thing she realized, with a jolt, was that the duke was nowhere to be seen.

A small, middle-aged woman in a neat black gown waited for them at the top of the steps.

“Good day to you both, Your Grace, your ladyship,” she said, making a neat—but not too deep—curtsey. “I am Mrs. Ribb, the housekeeper.”

Charlotte had not intended to be rude, but she found herself speaking without thinking.

“The housekeeper? Where is the duke?” she blurted out.

Mrs. Ribb blinked, but was too well-trained to show any surprise.

“The duke is otherwise engaged,” she said smoothly. “Shall I give you a tour? Or perhaps you would like to retire to your rooms? A large suite has been prepared for you, including a private sitting room and a bedroom for each of you. We have also made space for your lady’s maid, your ladyship.”

Charlotte glanced over at Thalia, who lifted her eyebrows but pointedly said nothing. The decision, it seemed, was all Charlotte’s.

“Very well,” Charlotte said at last. “Lead on, please.”

Mrs. Ribb gave a neat little smile and turned back into the house. Flanked by a pair of footmen, Charlotte and Thalia followed her.

Their rooms were indeed resplendent. Charlotte had expected large rooms, on account of the size of the house, but she imagined they would be musty and dark, perhaps covered in black and red fabric, with windows painted shut and curtains closed to keep out the sun.

Instead, she was shown to an airy, colorful room, easily able to contain five or six people for a refined, elegant tea-time. One door opened onto a sizable dressing-room, and another led to a massive bedroom, dominated by a four-poster bed draped in green and blue silk.

Orion colors, Charlotte thought in surprise.

“Yours is next door, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said, gesturing for Thalia to follow her. “You have your own dressing room, and your things have been unpacked and put away, naturally.”

The two women disappeared, leaving Charlotte alone in the rooms that would be her new home for the time being. Perhaps forever.

The engagement notice, she had been told, was set to appear in the Gazette today. Already, whispers of an engagement were creeping amongst Society, but of course, nobody wanted to believe it just yet. The Gazette , however, would provide indisputable evidence.

When I see it in the Gazette , I’ll believe it myself, too.

Hands on her hips, Charlotte stood before a wide, high window, bathed in glorious sunshine. A window had been opened, letting in a sweet rush of fresh air which stirred her hair.

She never heard the housekeeper approach. A gentle clearing of the throat was her first indication that she was not alone.

At the sound of Mrs. Ribb’s tactful cough, Charlotte spun around.

“Her Grace is settling into her rooms and plans to refresh herself after your journey,” Mrs. Ribb explained. “Perhaps you would like to freshen up, my lady? Or perhaps some refreshments? I trust that your rooms are to your liking.”

“They’re beautiful,” Charlotte managed. “But where is the duke? Why has he not met me?”

The housekeeper hesitated only for a moment. “The duke is a busy man, your ladyship.”

Charlotte bristled at that. “Too busy to meet his bride-to-be?”

Mrs. Ribb eyed her for a moment, with a smidge more confidence and authority than most other housekeepers Charlotte had met before.

“The duke is a fine man,” she said at last. “One I am happy to work for. He keeps strange hours, and his business is always his own. I am sorry that he cannot greet you in person, but I shall do my best to make sure you are comfortable.”

Charlotte turned to face her entirely, folding her arms. “Well, when shall I see him?”

“At seven o’clock, your ladyship, when dinner is served.”

Charlotte blanched. “ Seven o’clock ? Who eats dinner at seven o’clock?”

“As I said,” Mrs. Ribb said firmly, “the duke keeps strange hours. I shall be glad to fetch you something to eat if you are hungry in the meantime. Perhaps a negus?”

“Ugh, no. I cannot stand white soup of any kind. That is still entirely too late for dinner!”

Mrs. Ribb eyed her for a long moment, then gave a faint, mild smile.

“May I speak plainly, Lady Charlotte?”

Charlotte blinked. “Well, yes, of course. I should hope you’ll always speak plainly with me.”

“Thank you. Well, then, here it is: The duke is a man set in his ways. You may discuss your schedule with him once you are married, but for now, you and I would do best to follow his rules without complaint. It is the easiest way, after all.”

There was a long silence after that. Mrs. Ribb, to her credit, did not back down or show any signs of discomfort or that she regretted what she had said.

“Thank you for your frankness,” Charlotte said at last. “But I have never been very good at following rules. I should like to speak to the duke.”

“At dinner …”

“No, Mrs. Ribb. I want to speak to him now.”

Now the housekeeper seemed a little rattled. “That is not possible, Lady Charlotte.”

“Why? Is he not at home?”

“Well, yes, but …”

“Then take me to him. Is he in his study?”

“His chambers, I believe, but really …”

“Mrs. Ribb,” Charlotte interrupted, taking a step closer.

“If this marriage to the duke really does go ahead, I shall be the Duchess of Arkley. I shall rely heavily on you to help me run this house and act as a duchess should. As well as this, I hope we shall be friends. However, I shall be a duchess, and I should hope that your loyalty will belong to me. I would like to start as we mean to go on. Please be so kind as to take me to the duke, or I shall find him myself.”

There was another long silence. Mrs. Ribb stared up at Charlotte, as if trying to read her mind.

“Very well,” she said at last, her expression unchanged and her voice soft. “Follow me, my lady.”

The housekeeper led Charlotte on a shockingly long walk, down endless, carpeted hallways and across large, half-empty rooms containing only a few bookshelves and highly polished floors. The small woman set a brisk pace, and Charlotte was left to scurry along behind.

Abruptly, she stopped in a perfectly nondescript hallway, no different from any of the other hallways they had trudged through.

“This is the duke’s room,” Mrs. Ribb explained, gesturing at an ordinary-looking door. “I shall not stay while you speak to him. The duke does not like servants to enter his private wing, except for occasional cleaning. Or anybody, for that matter.”

Charlotte hadn’t expected this. Before she could respond, Mrs. Ribb made another curtsey.

“I trust you can find your own way back to your rooms, my lady?” she added softly.

Swallowing, Charlotte nodded. Mrs. Ribb shot her a wry smile and turned on her heel, trotting off along the hall.

Charlotte stared after her for a moment.

Perhaps this is a bad idea.

Before she could think more on the wisdom of her actions, Charlotte turned and knocked firmly on the door.

“Who is it?” came a deep, lazy voice from within.

“It is me, Your Gr—Isaac. Charlotte. Your betrothed.”

There was a short silence.

“I see,” Isaac responded at last, his voice a little sharper. “Has Mrs. Ribb not settled you in properly, then?”

“No, she has, but I should like to speak to you about something.”

“We will discuss it at dinner.”

“No, now, if you please. It cannot wait. May I come in?”

“No, you may not.”

Charlotte flinched. She hadn’t expected a refusal.

What are my choices? I stand here and beg? Do I walk away? No, I don’t think so.

Clenching her jaw, she placed her hand around the doorknob and turned it.

She had mostly expected the door to be locked, but instead it opened easily.

She found herself looking into a large, square room, served by a surprisingly small bed pushed into the corner.

She had expected opulence, but was instead greeted by Spartan simplicity.

Directly in front of her, standing before a mirror and a washbasin full of water, stood the Duke of Arkley.

He wore no shirt, only a pair of tight breeches and an unbuckled belt. He held a cloth in one hand and seemed to be in the process of sponging streaks of blood off his bare chest.

Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat.

His torso was marvelously sculpted, covered in discreet trails of soft dark hair.

Waterdrops dappled on his bare shoulders and trickled languidly down the rounded planes of his chest and stomach.

Charlotte’s lungs appeared to have stopped working.

Heat rushed downwards, pooling between her legs in a way she had never quite felt before.

She opened her mouth, but to her horror, not a single word made its way past her lips.

The duke was staring at her, of course, his one good eye dark and a little angry. At last, he broke the taut silence.

“Are you usually in the habit of disregarding the word no , my dear?” he drawled at last, dropping the wet cloth back into the basin with a splash .

Charlotte swallowed hard.

“N-No, of course not, but this is important.”

“I imagine it must be,” he responded, wringing out the cloth and drawing it across his collarbones. She saw that the splashes of blood there were dried, requiring a little scrubbing to remove them. She swallowed.

“Whose blood is that?”

“Not mine, if that is what concerned you,” Isaac responded, catching her eye through the mirror.

“I attended my club earlier. The Devils are famous for our boxing, you see, and I engaged in a few matches. I won, by the way. I have no intention of greeting my nephew covered in blood, hence the wash. I will continue, if you don’t mind. ”