Page 6 of Married to the Icy Duke (Duke Wars #3)

“ I believe you heard me perfectly well,” the duke shot back, flashing a mirthless smile.

Charlotte took a careful step forward, fists clenched by her sides.

“I did hear you, but my question was out of outrage and shock. I was sure I had misheard, and was giving you a chance to amend what you said.”

The duke gave a harsh laugh. “Gracious, what a spitting cat you are!”

“If you call me a cat, you’d best beware my claws, don’t you think?”

He laughed again, sounding as if he meant it this time.

“Well, I shall reiterate my statement. You’ll stay here with me, Lady Charlotte.”

She folded her arms tight across her chest. “I will not. What proper lady would even hear such a shocking proposal?”

At that moment, she was not entirely sure what his proposal was . The first thing that came to her mind was that he sought to … what was the word? Ravishing didn’t seem quite correct. To seduce her?

That idea seemed ridiculous. There was an arm’s length of space between her and the duke, and he was currently staring down at her, not with desire, but with amusement.

And yet Charlotte’s chest tightened. She found that her mouth was dry and swallowed hard to regain her composure. There was an odd, sparking sensation inside her chest when she looked the duke full in her face, and the sensation appeared to be spreading.

“No proper lady would consider whatever your proposal will be,” she stated quietly.

He smiled grimly. “Ah, but you are not a proper lady, are you? Your reputation goes before you, madam.”

She flinched. “That is not kind.”

“I am not a kind man. I am a practical one. I do not waste my words on follies and nonsense. I don’t add frills to my sentences, any more than I would add them to my cravat. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say.”

He took a step closer, which somewhat took Charlotte by surprise.

There were rules, after all, regarding how close a man and woman should stand by each other.

The scandalous waltz, barely just considered proper in good Society, managed to keep a couple further away from each other than Charlotte and the duke were now.

The tip of his nose was inches from hers. If she tilted her head forward, even a little, her lips would touch his . The idea was so strange, so shocking, and so alluring that Charlotte forced herself to take half a step backwards. If the duke noticed her small retreat, he did not mention it.

“If you stay,” he said at last, his voice even and careful, “I will help you.”

She blinked. Now, that was unexpected.

“Help me?” she echoed. “Help me with what? More to the point, I think, I must ask what you mean when you say stay . Stay as what?”

The duke held her gaze for a long moment.

Then, quite abruptly, he strode over to the fire and settled down on one of the armchairs.

Perhaps another gentleman might have crossed one leg over the other and picked at nonexistent lint on the knee —Gabriel might have done such a thing, for example—but the duke’s thighs were entirely too thick and muscled to allow for such a gesture.

In the same thought, she realized with horror that she was thinking of a gentleman’s thighs —the Duke of Arkley, no less!—and hastily readjusted her thoughts.

“Stay as what ?” she repeated, the last of her patience flitting away.

The duke gestured for her to sit in the opposite seat.

“As my wife, of course.”

There was a beat of silence. Charlotte must have misheard. That was the only possible explanation.

“I beg your pardon?” she managed faintly.

He shrugged lightly. “I believe your hearing is perfect, Lady Charlotte. You heard me.”

“You are making fun of me.”

“I am not.”

She waved a shaking finger in the air. “You dare to propose marriage? To me ? Under these circumstances? You are mad, sir, quite mad.”

He gave a brittle smile. “You are not the first person nor, I imagine, the last to level such an insult at me. Despite that, I am in fact in full possession of my senses. Now, think it over, Lady Charlotte. Your reputation is in tatters. No decent man will come near you. Sensible women avoid you. All of Society talks of your faux pas , including the recent incident in which you pushed Sir Peter into a fountain.”

“I did not mean to push him into the fountain!”

“And what about hitting him with your parasol?”

She paused. “Well, I did mean to do that. But he deserved it, let me assure you.”

The duke snorted. “I can believe it. But the fact remains that Society is not so forgiving. You seem like an intelligent sort of woman, so I shall be frank with you. I assume you know the situation you are in. After tonight, there’ll be more gossip and more scandal.

There’ll be more incidents where you are treated disrespectfully or even roughly by men who call themselves gentlemen, and you will find yourself gossiped about by cruel women who seek to tear you down to raise themselves.

Things will not get better. In fact, they’ll only get worse. You understand that, don’t you?”

He paused, and Charlotte swallowed thickly. Was she meant to respond? What did he want from her?

The truth of his words sat in the center of her chest like a stone.

He’s right. Things won’t get better. My situation will only improve if I get married, and I am not even sure I want that. I certainly have no opportunities to marry.

No, that wasn’t quite true. If she wasn’t mistaken—and she was not—the Duke of Arkley had just made her an offer of marriage.

“You need to escape the ton,” the duke continued, in that same cool, even tone. “You need to rise above them. Only marriage will give you that power. As for me, I require help to raise my nephew. It is proving more…” he hesitated, just for an instant, “… more challenging than I anticipated.”

Charlotte stared at him, trying in vain to read his face. It was no good—his eyes were cool and composed, his face giving away nothing at all.

“If you require a wife,” she managed at last, “Why me? Why choose a lady who is, as you so nicely pointed out, in possession of a smeared reputation? A duke shouldn’t struggle to find a wife.”

“You and I have a few things in common,” the duke sighed, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. “We both have dubious reputations. But that is not relevant here. I ask you to be my bride, Lady Charlotte, because I want your help in raising my nephew.”

“Why?”

He frowned. “Most women, when receiving a proposal from a man like me, would not stop to ask why.”

She chuckled. “You think not? Perhaps you don’t know women as well as you think, Your Grace.”

He scowled at that, shaking his head. “You are insufferable, do you know that?”

“Fine words for a man who has just proposed marriage to me.”

He heaved a mighty sigh. “Very well. I suppose a little explanation is in order. You see, I never imagined myself as a father, any more than I imagined I would be a duke. My brother held the title. He was a happily married man with a sweet child, and I was most content with my lot. And then he and his fine wife were killed, quite abruptly, in a carriage accident, leaving me with the title and their young child to manage. Since my return, things have been …” he paused, as if groping for the word.

“Different. Raising my nephew and managing my new responsibilities are challenging. The thing is, Lady Charlotte, my nephew Thomas, he … well, he does not speak.”

Charlotte frowned. “What, not at all? Nearly three years old, and he does not speak?”

The duke’s expression hardened, his long fingers curling around the arm of his seat.

“Not a word. Not to me, not to his nursemaid, not to anyone. I have consulted professionals, and I have taken him to several doctors. All confirm the same thing. He can speak, and there is nothing … nothing amiss in his mind. He simply does not choose to speak.”

Charlotte blinked, trying to understand this. From what she had been told, she and Gabriel had been chattering from a young age. A three-year-old was unlikely to be eloquent , but he should be talking a little.

“Not a word?” she managed at last.

The duke’s face tightened. “No.”

Charlotte folded her arms, chewing the inside of her cheek. It wasn’t right for a child to be as quiet and timid as Tommy was.

But he opened up with me, she realized. Not by much, of course.

The little boy hadn’t spoken again. He had been willing to play a little, though, laughing at some of Charlotte’s antics.

She’d talked to him, telling him how, when she was small, her brother had taken wooden clothes pegs and made a series of dolls for her.

She could do that for Tommy, she was sure of it.

“I imagine you can see why we are so interested that he chose to speak to you ,” the duke continued, his voice soft. “I cannot imagine why he would, but he has , so that is that.”

Charlotte sighed. “It was only one word, and only his name. You act as though we had a full conversation.”

The duke shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. He spoke , and he spoke to you. This is an opportunity I cannot let slip away. It is my responsibility to care for Thomas, and I cannot … I will not fail in this matter.”

There was an edge in his voice now, which Charlotte did not like. She glanced over him, frowning. He met her eye and abruptly rose to his feet, striding towards her. She wondered briefly if his looming was meant to intimidate her.

In fact, she was not entirely sure how she felt. Not intimidated, but she felt … she felt something. Best not to think too deeply on that now, however.

“I don’t know much about your brother and his wife,” she heard herself say, “but I understand their death was sudden. Perhaps Tommy is grieving. Perhaps he remembers them.”

The duke blinked, looking faintly baffled. “He’s a baby. He can’t remember them.”

For an instant, Charlotte was sure that he must be joking. Then she glanced properly up at his face and discovered otherwise.