Page 36 of Married to the Icy Duke (Duke Wars #3)

I shall make it my aim to avoid Isaac until dinner, Charlotte promised herself.

Tommy had been taken back to the nursery for a nap, and of course, Mary had gone with him.

Sybella had vanished somewhere, and that left Charlotte free to wander.

Before she could begin to seethe, however, a carriage came rattling into view.

A quick glance out of the window confirmed who it was.

Brightening, Charlotte hurried out of the door and onto the gravel to greet her friend.

The carriage trundled to a stop, and a pair of the duke’s footmen came out to open the door. Gingerly, Madeline poked her head out. Some of the fear disappeared from her face when she saw Charlotte.

“I was starting to think you’d come later, with all the others,” Charlotte said, laughing.

Madeline beamed. “I would never do that to you. Lord, I’ve missed you, Charlotte.”

Scrambling down from the too-high carriage, she hurried across the gravel to wrap her arms around Charlotte.

Madeline was petite, rather too skinny to be fashionable, and her gown really did not suit her.

She was fair-haired, pale-skinned, and with rich green eyes, which should make her look beautiful in everything.

However, she was often made to wear loose, old-fashioned dresses in dull blue or bedraggled green, colors which seemed to drain her rather than enhancing her beauty.

Fortunately, she was wearing her spectacles today.

Often, Charlotte knew that her parents pleaded with her to leave her spectacles at home.

They were plain, circular, wire-rimmed creations, and while they rather dominated Madeline’s face, they were strictly necessary for her to see. Her eyesight, poor thing, was terrible.

Charlotte pulled back, hands on Madeline’s shoulders, and inspected her. Madeline blinked back.

“You look thinner than before,” Charlotte said at last. “Are you eating?”

Madeline shrugged. “I am not often hungry.”

“Hmph. Well, you’ll eat plenty over this weekend, do you hear?”

Her friend gave a wry smile. “You always look after me so well, Charlotte. I have missed you.”

Charlotte looped an arm through her friend’s arm—not the one clutching a tattered old book to her ribcage—and led her inside.

“What book are you reading now?”

“Oh, some of Mary Wollstonecraft’s essays. Have you read them?”

Charlotte grimaced. “I suppose I ought to, but I never have quite managed to.”

“Shall I summarize them for you?”

“N-No, thank you.”

Madeline looked even more serious than usual. “They’re terribly important , Charlotte.”

Charlotte pressed a quick kiss to her friend’s cheek.

“I know, dearest, but so long as you are reading them, I shall be content that our finest minds are appreciating those essays. Now, I shall show you to your room. You’re just a few doors along from me, so don’t fret.

Did you …” Charlotte paused, glancing over her shoulder.

The footmen were taking down Madeline’s battered old trunk from where it was lashed to the top of the carriage.

She was willing to bet that it mostly contained books. There was another issue, however.

“Where is your maid, Madeline?”

Madeline flushed, hastily averting her gaze. “Papa … Papa dismissed her.”

“ What ?”

“It was my fault.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“No, I … I wasn’t dutiful, I ought to have tried harder, and he said …”

Charlotte cut her off, turning to face her friend and gripping her shoulders.

“Whatever went wrong,” she said firmly, forcing Madeline to look her in the eyes, “It was not your fault. I’d like to hear you say it.”

“Charlotte …”

“I mean it. Say it.”

Madeline closed her eyes momentarily. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“There. I’m glad.” Charlotte breathed out, then met her friend’s eyes and smiled. “Come. Let’s go and see your room.”

“Oh, it’s lovely !” Madeline breathed. “Did you pick this room, Charlotte?”

Charlotte, lounging on a chaise longue , grinned. “I certainly did. I thought you’d enjoy the books.”

She had picked the West Reading Room as Madeline’s room. It was not often used as a guest room, as it was rather small and, of course, full of books. Charlotte, however, knew that was exactly what would appeal to Madeline.

Carefully laying her book down, Madeline walked over to the shelves that ringed the room, trailing her fingers over the spines.

“He has a good collection of books, then? Your husband-to-be?” she asked, her back carefully turned.

It occurred to Charlotte that Madeline had not once referred to her upcoming marriage. Swallowing hard, Charlotte glanced away.

“I do not believe he reads often, but yes, he has a well-stocked library. His family’s collection is quite extensive.”

Madeline glanced over her shoulder. “You like him, then?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

She lifted her fair eyebrows. “Which would you like it to be?”

Biting her lip, Charlotte conjured up an image of Isaac in her head.

In her mind, he stood, broad-shouldered and wryly smiling, at the entrance to her washroom.

The eyepatch across his face cut a strange shadow, his other eye burning brighter than ever.

He grinned, slow and wolfish, with two over-sharp canines pressing into his lower lip.

With a jolt, Charlotte found herself wanting to feel those sharp teeth press against her lip.

Heat bubbled in her chest, and desire plunged between her legs, sudden and powerful.

Swallowing hard, she scrambled to her feet, crossing the room to the window.

There was a deep window seat there, well-padded, with cushions to protect one’s back from the wall.

It was set rather low, obliging one to lower oneself down upon it.

Charlotte did so, tucking her legs up underneath herself, the hem of her skirt covering her feet.

Madeline followed her, and when Charlotte glanced up, she saw that her friend’s face was grim.

“There’s something about him that bothers you, isn’t there?” Madeline said at last.

Charlotte sighed. “I can’t explain it. He seems to take great pleasure in annoying me, but he’s hardly cruel. In fact, he can be … can be kind, when he wishes it. He’s certainly fair. He’s promised me freedom, and I believe he will keep his word. Besides, he dotes on that sweet nephew of his.”

Madeline curled up on the seat opposite Charlotte, drawing her knees to her chest.

“I heard,” she said carefully, “that he locks the boy up in a room and plans to send him away to school the instant he’s old enough. I am not accusing him,” she added hastily. “I am only repeating what is said.”

Charlotte sniffed. “Well, it isn’t true.

Like I said, he dotes on little Tommy. I can’t help but feel that he never expected to be a father, and the idea terrifies him.

You should see the nursery Tommy has. So many toys!

And books, and games, and everything. Tommy has everything he wants, and Isaac is trying, trying so hard to take good care of him.

He is only marrying me because he thinks I will make a good mother to Tommy,” she added, shrugging.

The reality of it was like a cold bucket of water over her head, as always.

“He’s wrong about that, of course. I wouldn’t make anyone a good mother. ”

Madeline frowned. “You’re too harsh on yourself. You would never say such a thing to a friend, would you? You’d never say that to me ?”

“Well, of course not.”

“Then don’t say it to yourself.” She reached out, taking Charlotte’s hands in her own.

“Everybody says that your marriage is one of convenience; it is true. But haven’t you always said that love in a marriage complicates matters?

Now, you have the liberty to make a good, logical choice of a great match, without your heart getting in the way.

This house will be yours , Charlotte. You’ll be the Duchess of Arkley.

You’ll be someone. I hope you don’t forget me, the sad little spinster, when you’re off being a grand duchess, eh? ”

That was meant to be a joke, of course—Madeline’s weak attempt at lightening the mood—but Charlotte did not feel inclined to laugh.

“Don’t say that, Madeline,” she murmured. “I would never forget you. And you are not a sad little spinster .”

“Oh, but I am,” Madeline said, forcing a laugh.

“Look, I’ve been biting my nails again. See how stubby and badly bitten they are?

I get so nervous, and I find myself chewing them before I can stop myself.

Papa pleads with me to stop. He worries that I am hurting my hands, and indeed I am.

I cause him so much trouble. My maid tried to prevent me from biting my nails, and Papa happened to catch her smacking my wrist away.

She meant no harm, of course, she only wanted to help, but Papa was furious.

He sent her away, and I cannot help but feel as though it is my fault.

I’m sure he’ll relent and bring her back, but she was only trying to help . ”

“Oh, Madeline, you poor thing.”

She shook her head. “I know it’s high time that I was married, but the idea fills me with such dread.

Papa has told me, again and again, that if he should die, there is very little left for me.

He wants to see me settled and happy, he has said so, but what if …

what if I am not cut out for marriage? Besides, no gentleman wants to marry a bespectacled bluestocking. ”

Charlotte laid a reassuring hand on her friend’s arm. “You’ll come and live with me, silly. There is plenty of room.”

“I cannot live on your goodwill forever, Charlotte. What about when you have children to care for?”

“I won’t be having children,” Charlotte said, more firmly than she’d intended. Madeline shot her a quick, questioning glance, but before she could ask a question, Charlotte hastily changed the subject.

She jumped to her feet and darted over to the bookshelves, where a dusty pack of cards waited.