Page 6 of The Virgin Duchess (Unwanted Brides #2)

Chapter Three

I t was raining. It was her wedding day, and it was raining. Some said that it was good luck, but Charlotte had a feeling that the superstition had been created to make brides feel better when their nuptials were ruined by a sudden downpour.

“Oof,” Magnus’s low groan cut through her thoughts, and Charlotte glanced over at him.

The carriage ride was particularly bumpy today, or perhaps it was only that the ride was utterly silent, and so each jostle of the wheels was painstakingly noticeable.

Her brother looked the same way he had for the past few weeks since the first notice was posted in the Banns. His brow was in a permanent furrow, and Charlotte could see tension pulling the muscles of his jaw tight. After a moment, he glanced back at her, and Charlotte attempted to duck her stare away.

It was unsuccessful.

“Why…” his voice filled the silence like a heavy thud, “…why would you marry someone like him? A rake like… him ?”

Charlotte’s stomach clenched. She knew exactly who Magnus was speaking about, and while she had a feeling that her brother was quite right about Frederick, she had a part to play.

“He is not like our father, Magnus. I assure you.”

Gaze hardening, freezing over with ice like a pond in winter, Magnus’s jaw worked all the harder. He shook himself after a time, facing out the window as they passed by building after building.

“I do not wish to hear about that man on what is meant to be a joyous occasion.” He sighed, still not looking at her. “I only feel as if I am missing something in the success of this courtship.”

“Magnus, I…I am sorry if the surprise was too great. I simply did not know if Frederick would ever come to his senses and propose.”

All her brother did was offer a noncommittal noise, humming slightly before the carriage returned to utter silence. She stiffened in her seat, turning away from Magnus and glancing out the window. There was nothing more that she could say to ease him, and frankly, she understood his complaint.

Over the weeks, Charlotte had played her part as doting betrothed as best she could. But there was the timing in her way. It was nearly impossible to come up with a reason for such a sudden event. She could empathize with Magnus and his reticence to sign off on the marriage as it came so entirely like a bolt out of the blue.

I have tried so hard to fake an infatuation with Frederick, and still, he sees right through me .

Moments—or perhaps hours—later, they arrived at the church for the ceremony. Charlotte had lost track of time during the trip, and before she could comprehend what she was doing, she stood in the church, looking over the few assembled guests.

Her dearest friend, Amelia, was there, but the Duchess cast her a concerned stare, and Charlotte felt compelled to go to her.

“Amelia,” Charlotte leaned forward, greeting her friend warmly, “I’m glad that you could come.”

“Of course, Lady Charlotte. Or shall I say Your Grace already?” There was a slight twinkle in Amelia’s eyes at the jest, but it was quickly swept away by ill-hidden worry. “You are truly going to wed Frederick then?”

Swallowing hard, Charlotte nodded. “Yes, of course. I am very happy. This is exactly what I want.”

Even Charlotte had trouble believing the words.

But before Amelia could speak another word, her husband, Richard—the Duke of Blackford—approached them with a smile, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist.

“Has my wife professed her concern yet? She has been dreadful to live with these past few days.”

Amelia glared at him, swatting him discreetly with her small fan. Charlotte had to grin at the pair. They were indeed a sight to behold, having started so strictly as enemies and then falling in love with each other as profoundly as any Charlotte had ever seen. It gave her hope…if a small amount.

“I can assure you, Amelia, that Frederick is a good man. You have no cause for concern. And your dear friend is happy. Should that not be all that matters?”

It was painful to keep her scowl and scoff contained and out of sight, but Charlotte knew that Richard meant well. However, she could not believe that the goodness of Frederick’s character was unimpeachable. Richard was not aware of the other evening, of course, and with the Baron still not found, each day made Charlotte more nervous.

“Of course.” Amelia turned to her, holding her stare with such love in her eyes that Charlotte was forced to hold back tears. “I am truly happy for you, my dearest Charlotte. And my husband is right. Shocking indeed.”

He only chuckled at the slight, the pair of them using their teasing as a language of love shared only between them.

“Your happiness is what I regard with the most seriousness. If you are glad, then I am glad.”

Charlotte had to swallow again, the emotions making her throat sticky and dry. “You are truly the best friend I could ever ask for, Amelia. I love you with all my heart, like a sister.”

A commotion started at the front of the church, and Charlotte knew it was time. She was needed at the altar because, on this rainy day in London, she was getting married.

Before she knew it, Charlotte was no longer a lady but a duchess of a new estate. The wedding went by in a blur and she was ashamed to say that she recalled little of it. Each moment of the ceremony, she had been preoccupied with trying to parse out the meaning of Frederick’s facial expressions, responding to the minister’s questions by rote alone.

They’d made their trek across the city to Mullens Estate, and Charlotte had been greeted by the state with her new title as she followed her husband and sister-in-law inside.

“Welcome home, Your Grace,” the butler said to Frederick, then turned to regard her. “And to you, Your Grace.”

It was still so odd to be called as such, and Charlotte forced herself to smile, offering what she could by way of a performance. They were quickly ushered to the dining room where a meal had been prepared for after the ceremony, and she could hear talk in the back of her mind from the staff regarding their potential honeymoon.

I’d forgotten about that part. We have not discussed it, though. I wonder if Frederick…

Abruptly, it struck Charlotte that she had not spoken to Frederick much at all—about anything. She was unaware of his expectations for their marital arrangement beyond what they had discussed that day in the hall when he’d proposed.

What might the Duke wish for in terms of her role as mistress of the house? What did he wish for when it came to heirs for his family?

Charlotte stifled a shiver as she was seated at the table to dine across from her new husband at the opposite head. The day was hardly half over, and yet she knew that the remainder of the day would drag on until she had a chance to speak to Frederick alone.

And she did not look forward to it in the slightest.

With each moment, less and less light spilled through the hall, and Charlotte’s stomach twisted itself further into untamable knots. The sky was dark, night had come, and she would be alone with her husband for the first time since the ceremony.

“If he should decide to come to speak to me at all.”

Charlotte sat on the edge of her bed. She was in a separate room from Frederick, and she’d dismissed the maid, choosing to undress for sleep on her own, which she had yet to do. The maid seemed to think it was a way of asking for privacy, the woman smirking knowingly at her, but Charlotte had no intention of engaging in marital visitation with the man she knew to be nothing more than a rake.

Knock, knock.

A soft rap of knuckles hit her door, and Charlotte straightened up. The room was not locked, as she’d hoped that the two of them might at least talk.

“Come in,” she called out gently, and the door cracked open to reveal her husband, dressed down from the formality of his attire of earlier.

“Charlotte,” Frederick nodded, “good evening.”

She narrowed her eyes on him, folding her arms across his chest as she set her mouth in a grim line. The large room seemed to barely contain the man’s tall stature, but it was the size of her irritation that truly stretched it to the limit.

It was a lovely space, well enough supplied with the necessary furnishings—a wash basin and dresser, a fireplace with bed warmer, and even a standing mirror that sat in the corner near the far window. The room was decked out in wallpaper depicting alternating pale blue stripes and columns of blue cornflowers. There were pale white curtains over the windows on the wall to the right of her bed, and on the left was the closet door next to the dresser.

Simple and elegant, and as much as a prison as one with bars.

“You’ve graced me with your presence. Should I assume that you have something to say to me, or have you come to ignore me in person?”

With a frown, Frederick ducked his head. It was a moment before he spoke again, and Charlotte watched the muscles in his jaw work as he stood just a few feet from where she sat.

“I was not ignoring you. There were family members to attend to, and we have both been particularly busy through the entire day.”

All Charlotte did was stare. She would not be giving him an inch of reprieve from this. Frederick was well aware of what he’d been doing that day, and their lack of communication had nothing to do with “being busy.”

The silence persisted until Frederick sighed, meeting her stare. “It is possible that perhaps I could have paid more attention to your status during the evening.”

“Perhaps?” She stood up, taking a step forward and leaning toward him. “ Perhaps you could have paid more attention? You have spoken to me as much as you have the plants in your greenhouse, Frederick.”

The man had the gall to scoff, rolling his eyes before looking in her direction like he was tickled by Charlotte’s complaints.

“Charlotte, I?—”

“Don’t. You cannot make me see anything but the truth. You have paid me no mind since I arrived at the estate.” She sucked in a breath of air, closing her eyes momentarily before leveling Frederick with a stare again. “Should you wish for it to remain that way, fine. I am more than happy to pursue separate interests. Still, I would appreciate a summary of what you expect from this arrangement beyond our mutual agreement to not leak the other’s secrets.”

“Separate interests? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. And surely you must provide me with a bit of time to consider matters. We’ve only been married for a handful of hours. I thought that at the least we could take the time to get to know one another, settle into our roles.”

Slashing her hand through the air, Charlotte scoffed lightly. She was beyond aggravated with the Duke at present, and the fact that he was so nonchalant about it all only made her mood that much more sour.

“You act as though this is some simple thing. I’m to be your wife. I am your wife. There is quite a bit associated with that. An arrangement of convenience remains a marriage, nonetheless. You’ve allowed me no preparation for how I am to manage the estate, what might be required of me in terms of staffing the house, nor introduced me to those working her that I will be interacting with on a daily basis.”

“This was the first day, Charlotte. There is time for those things. You shouldn’t allow yourself to get so worked up.”

Hardly believing her ears, Charlotte glared harder. Jabbing a finger in his direction, she looked up into Frederick’s gray eyes as the sound of the fire crackling in the background mirrored the sparks firing in her blood.

“Worked up?!” Her voice ticked up louder. “You have coerced me into a marriage of convenience, and you expect me to be?—”

The words were silenced as Frederick reached out and took her face in his hands. She’d not realized that during this entire conversation, he’d stepped closer and closer, but now the reality of his proximity was plain as paper. Her heart rate was already furious, and with the man’s warm skin against hers, it only took off for the stars. Frederick was so close she could smell the spice of his cologne, and her perception of the room around her dropped away as she was trapped beneath the weight of his stare.

As her lips gently parted, Frederick’s fingers slid down the column of her neck—light and unhurried. The other hand suddenly found her side, wrapping around her waist to lay against the small of her back.

“W-What are you doing?”

Charlotte’s voice was so small. It barely reached Frederick across the few short inches separating them. Her head felt fuzzy, as if she’d had too much of the drink, and even more, Charlotte could hear each frenzied beat of her heart screaming in her ears as the booms slammed against her ribs.

“You,” Frederick rumbled, his deep voice scarcely a whisper, “are something I’ve never encountered, Charlotte. You are headstrong and wild, and I find that I cannot wait another moment before I claim my wife completely.”

She was frozen in place, under the spell of some sort of trance. Frederick moved in all the closer, and before she could think to speak again or think at all really, his lips found the crook of her neck. The sensations were dizzying. Charlotte had never been kissed as such before, and her eyes rolled closed as she fought back the whimper that threatened to break free.

The feel of his teeth playfully biting her neck rocked Charlotte to her core, forcing her from whatever spell he’d cast.

“No,” she pushed back from Frederick, putting several inches between them, “you will not.”

Frederick cast her a confused look, his brows pinched together and low over his dark eyes—eyes that appeared to be trying to eat her up, swallowing her into the depths of the cool grey color.

“Why do you push me away? I can see the want in your eyes?”

Charlotte felt her cheeks burn, and she broke their eye contact, staring at the floor. After a moment, she looked back up at him, her resolve restored. Holding her chin high, she straightened her spine.

“I will not share your bed, Frederick. You will not get me to lie with you, no matter how many of your tricks you decide to use.”

No visible emotion passed over her husband’s face, and Charlotte didn’t know what to make of it. He was as calm and stoic as she’d seen him become that night. When he wasn’t peacocking himself like the rake she knew too well to expect, the man had an awful habit of surprising her with how steely he could be.

“Do you intend to deny me my husbandly rights during the entirety of our marriage, Charlotte?”

No disappointment nor amusement. His voice held no clue as to what he wanted her to say. So, Charlotte only stood firmer in her resolution to keep the fiendish rogue at bay for as long as she could.

“Yes.”

He stepped closer again, and Charlotte felt dwarfed by how he towered over her.

“Why?” Frederick’s gaze had yet to lighten, his dark stare pinning her down. “Why do you wish to stay so far from me?”

Her throat felt dry, and Charlotte took a step backward, feeling the bed hit her at the back of her knees.

“That is none of your business.”

She would not discuss why the thought of siring children to a dastardly rogue hit her so profoundly. He needn’t know about her father.

But then Frederick chuckled low, the sound dark and too beautiful. She wanted to hate the sound. She wanted him to laugh like some out-of-tune crow or a squeaky train wheel. But he didn’t.

Charlotte’s throat was as dry as the inside of the fireplace, and she forced herself to swallow. As she did, Frederick moved closer, stepping to the side to take a seat on the mattress. He leaned back on one hand, casual and comfortable on her bed. Frederick’s brow rose as he glanced up at her, as nonchalant as ever.

“And of your duty to produce an heir. Am I to assume that you would not be acquiescing to the traditional tasks given to wives?”

It was so businesslike, the way he talked about an heir as an asset to the household and not like the actual child that would result from their union.

He’s only concerned with his reputation, his family name. Worse, he’s only thinking with his pecker, ready to stick it anywhere he wishes for little thought of the child he would sire .

Glaring so much that an ache formed within her skull, Charlotte was ready to bust when the words flew from her mouth.

“My wishes might not matter to you, Your Grace .” She bit out the words as her only weapons. “But if you choose to try and take what I have not given you, I will fight you every step of the way—until one or the other of us is left bleeding and broken.”

Frederick’s brows shot up to his hairline, and for the first time all day—perhaps ever—Charlotte could see the look of genuine shock painted all over his face. She held his stare with everything she had, gripping the sides of her dress so much that her knuckles screamed in protest.

He flew up off the mattress, standing before her with a horrendous grimace painted over his features.

“What kind of man do you think I am? Do you truly believe I would do such a thing? Take you by…force?”

Charlotte’s jaw trembled, so she bit down on her molars to stop it shaking. As she met Frederick’s stare, she reeled backward, blinking several times.

“I have heard your reputation, Frederick. I will not be another woman left without her maidenhead because of your fine words and forward advances.”

“You have heard this?” His tone was accusatory. “Someone has said that I take maidens virtue?”

Shaking her head, she ducked it low, trying to back up and put space between them. Frederick pursued, and Charlotte stumbled until she wound up with her back against the wall. Her husband followed after, framing her with his arms as he trapped her in place.

“I do not need to explain myself to you,” she pressed.

“No,” Frederick’s voice was hardly above a whisper, and his dark stare devoured her, “you don’t. But I ask you this, Charlotte. Give me seven days.”

She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

There was a hesitation, a moment where her husband roamed his eyes across her features, seeming to map each detail of her face. Charlotte felt strange under his scrutiny, and she couldn’t parse out what purpose it served. Though, she could not deny the shaded heat that billowed from his expression.

“I will never take anything from you against your will.” He leveled her with his stare. “Still, I cannot deny that…”

Clearing his throat, Frederick appeared to backpedal, reeling in the words that began to tumble from his lips. As he righted himself, regaining some of his composure, he released a slow exhale.

“I cannot give up on the notion of an heir. I do not wish to be the last of my family to carry on our name. So, give me seven nights to convince you.”

“Frederick, I?—”

“I will never do something you don’t want, Charlotte. Not during the seven days and not during any following moment of our marriage, regardless of the outcome. Should you still refuse me, I will leave it at that.”

Charlotte was at a loss. What was she supposed to say to the man? She understood his desire to continue his family. She knew that it was technically within his rights to demand an heir from her, but standing there before him—his arms trapping her against the wall—Charlotte was unsure what the best course of action was here. There had been a brief moment earlier when she’d nearly expected to lose her virginity by now, but so much had changed with just this single conversation.

Worse, Frederick had made it clear that this was a business arrangement that he wished only to take advantage of and perhaps sow more of his wild oats in the process.

I will not be a glorified prostitute.

“You will not change my mind, Frederick. It is pointless to attempt this foolish trick of yours.”

“Then,” he leaned forward, his breath tickling her skin he was so close, “you should have nothing to worry over. Perhaps, Charlotte, you should allow me to harbor the concern over my success since agreeing to the provision will so clearly not affect your standing.”

Expectation and curiosity smoothed over Frederick’s features as he looked down at her from his tall stature. Her blood rushed quicker through her veins, and a terrible heat crawled up from her chest to her cheeks. How was he doing this to her? What strange sorcery or substance was he using to affect her so?

Still, he was right. Agreeing to the deal would not change her mind. She was quite firm in her resolve. And the thought of seeing his expression upon his failure delighted Charlotte to no end.

“Fine, Frederick. Do your worst over seven days, and when my mind has not changed, I will hear no more talk of heirs or beds. Ever again.”

He straightened, leaving Charlotte to lean against the wall. “Deal.”