Page 20 of Married to the Icy Duke (Duke Wars #3)

C harlotte’s head was reeling. She couldn’t make sense of the wretched man.

At one moment, he was steely and aloof, and the next, he was buying everything green from a popular modiste’s, simply because …

well, why? Was it because Tommy had said the word?

Was it because it was her favorite color? She couldn’t decide.

The decision had been made to go to Gunter’s teashop afterwards, for ices. Tommy seemed extremely excited at the prospect. So was Mary, who had clearly not had the opportunity to enjoy ices before, although her excitement was more controlled.

Isaac had not said a word to anyone after his gesture and led the way along the busy London streets towards the popular teashop.

Thalia had fallen behind to help Mary with Tommy, who wanted to walk but seemed inclined to dart off the instant his nurse released his hand.

He was getting to that troublesome age where he wanted to run away, she guessed.

Charlotte was busy, lost in her own thoughts, when an arm slid through hers, and she glanced over to see Sybella smiling at her.

“My brother seems quite taken with you,” she remarked, without preamble.

Charlotte flushed. “Oh, forgive me, I think you have misunderstood. We are not …”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Sybella laughed. “I know it is not a love-match. Who has the leisure for such things in this day and age? I do think you are well-suited, however. I’ve wanted to see my brother married for quite some time, but the proper woman never presented herself.”

Charlotte chewed her lower lip. “I am not sure I am the proper woman .”

“Aren’t you? I think you are. Time will tell, however.

I wish you all the best of luck, you know.

I don’t know what it seems like to someone looking in from the outside, but my relationship with my brother is …

” Sybella paused, and seemed to wilt just a little.

Frowning, she twisted her fingers together and glanced away.

“Well, it is complicated,” she resumed at last. “Enough of that for now. All you should think about is your own future, which in my opinion looks rather bright.”

“I wish I could agree with you,” Charlotte muttered, before she could stop herself. Sybella shot herself a quick, inquisitive look, and Charlotte cursed herself for being so loose-lipped.

“Well, time will tell,” Sybella responded easily. “My brother is not an easy man, but as I say, he’s quite taken with you.”

Charlotte paused, turning to face the woman. Ahead of them, Isaac had gone striding into Gunter’s, no doubt to find a table for them all.

“I appreciate your confidence,” Charlotte said at last, her voice tentative, “but let me be blunt, Sybella, please. There is nothing between your brother and I. Isaac is a kind man, I believe, underneath it all, but he is not taken with me. This is a marriage of convenience, plain and simple, and I would not like matters to become … well, to become inconvenient. We wish to avoid complications.”

Sybella eyed her curiously, her expression giving away nothing.

“Of course,” she said at last, offering a small smile. “We’d all like to avoid complications, I think. And yet sometimes they find us, don’t they?”

What was that supposed to mean? Before Charlotte could ask, Thalia, Mary, and Tommy reached them, and the five of them all walked into Gunter’s together.

Isaac was waiting, standing by a round table set for six people.

“There you all are,” he said, a trifle moodily. “The proprietor will be back in a moment to take our orders. Mary, if you are confused as to what flavor you would like to try, I can recommend either the chocolate or the brown bread ices.”

“What flavor would you like, little one?” Thalia asked with a laugh, setting him down on his feet. He held her hand, beaming up at her.

“Green!” he chirped. This was his second word in half an hour, and it did not matter that it was the same one. Everybody smiled, glancing happily around at each other.

“Green … would he like pistachio, I wonder?” Sybella suggested.

Charlotte glanced up at Isaac and saw that he was staring down at his nephew with an expression of such powerful fondness that it made her heart ache.

He wasn’t the sort of man who beamed , but there was such a deep feeling in his face that she suddenly found that she wanted to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

“I will buy him all the flavors he wants,” Isaac announced.

Mary sucked in a breath. “Oh, no, Your Grace! It’ll make him sick! It’ll certainly spoil his dinner.”

Charlotte placed her hand over her mouth to smother a giggle at Isaac’s chagrined expression.

Before another word could be exchanged, however, a shadow fell over the table. They all glanced up, and Charlotte was surprised to see an unfamiliar figure standing beside them, a thoughtful expression on his face.

There was a beat of taut silence before Isaac responded.

“Why, Matthew, what a surprise to see you here. I did not know you were in London.”

They were all sitting now, except for Isaac and Tommy, who stood beside his nurse and stared curiously up at the newcomer.

Clearing his throat, Isaac glanced around the table and offered a faint smile. There was something tight about his manner, something wary, and the atmosphere had grown hard and uncomfortable.

“Everyone, this is Lord Bentley. He is a family friend, although we have not seen each other since …” he paused, and Lord Bentley filled in the silence.

“Since the funeral, I think?” he offered helpfully. “I believe congratulations are in order, by the way, on your impending marriage.”

Isaac seemed to tense further. He rounded the table, coming to stand behind Charlotte. To her amazement, he placed one warm palm on her shoulder. The gesture felt protective, although she could not for the life of her work out why.

“Yes,” he responded tightly. “This is Lady Charlotte Harding, my bride-to-be. Her sister-in-law, the Duchess of Stonewell, joins us today. You know my sister, Sybella, of course.”

Lord Bentley nodded, that faint smile still playing about his lips. His gaze landed on Charlotte and stayed there.

She guessed that he was about twenty-seven years old, tall and slim with a wiry frame.

He was rather handsome, in the style one might see in the face of a Grecian statue.

He had a headful of thick blond curls and large, soft brown eyes.

Why had such a harmless, charming-looking man put Isaac so on edge?

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Lord Bentley said, smiling politely and making a bow. His curls fell over his forehead, and he flicked them neatly back. “I see that your little nephew is here, too.”

“Yes,” Isaac responded, and his fingers briefly, reflexively tightened on Charlotte’s shoulder. “Thomas.”

She glanced over at Thalia and then at Sybella, trying to glean some clue as to why this interaction should be so uncomfortable. Thalia looked as ill at ease as Charlotte felt, and Sybella’s face was inscrutable as always.

Lord Bentley turned to Tommy, dropping into a crouch to put himself on eye level with the boy.

“What a fine little fellow you are,” he said, smiling. “What a lucky little fellow you are, too, to have your uncle and aunt to care for you. And soon you will have another aunt, too! What luck!”

Tommy smiled uncertainly, pressing against Mary’s skirts. He said nothing, of course, but Lord Bentley seemed undeterred.

“Of course, you are too young to understand your luck yet,” he continued blithely, “But you are lucky. You see, while you have a loving family ready to care for you, some of us are obliged to bury our loved ones, well before their time. It’s an awful thing to do, you know, Master Thomas.

Burying somebody you love, somebody who should not have died. ”

“This is hardly an appropriate subject to bring up with a child, Matthew,” Isaac interrupted, his voice hard. “Although of course we are all so very sorry for your loss.”

Loss? Charlotte thought. What loss?

She knew that it was neither the time nor the place to ask, however, and shelved the question to bring up later.

Lord Bentley seemed unconcerned by Isaac’s sharpness. He rose to his feet, turning to smile at them again. His soft brown eyes landed on Charlotte, and she found herself leaning back in her seat.

“I must offer my congratulations to you, Lady Charlotte,” he said with a smile, holding out his hand.

She was obliged to take it, and he turned over her hand neatly and pressed a quick kiss to the knuckles.

She tried to pull back her hand, but he had a deceptively tight grip on her fingers, and she could not do so without making a scene.

“It must be a great honor, marrying such a brave man.”

At last, Charlotte wrenched her hand away. Or did he let go? At any rate, she knew she had not come out of that interaction well. Glancing briefly up at Isaac, she found that he was staring at Lord Bentley without blinking, his jaw set. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

When she looked back at Lord Bentley, she found him staring fixedly at her. The smile remained playing about his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. In fact, there was plain, unbridled hate in his gaze.

I don’t understand, she thought, bewildered. I’ve never met this man. Why does he hate me so? Why is Isaac so on edge around him? What am I missing?

She supposed it could be a Devils and Orions matter. They could be rather nasty towards each other, but this seemed ridiculous. A confrontation in Gunter’s teashop? It was the silliest thing she’d ever heard.

“I am grateful for him,” Charlotte found herself saying, fighting to hold Lord Bentley’s cold stare. “I am very glad to be marrying him.”

She felt, rather than saw, Isaac’s gaze land on her. She thought she sensed a faint surprise in his stare.