“And then what will happen?” Charlotte asked, a look of concern crossing her face.
“Well, I expect that Lord Harry will come to his senses,” the Duke replied, realizing in a flash that he did not really want that outcome at all, but finding himself caught in something of a quandary.
“And if he doesn’t?” Charlotte went on, holding his gaze with that intriguing look of hers.
The Duke sighed. Sometimes she was so frank with her feelings, but right then, he could tell that she was holding back, though he did not quite know how to respond to her.
“Shall we worry about that if it happens?” he said lightly, taking her arm. “Now, why don’t you show me this famous flower garden that your father has told me so much about? I should like to see if there are any blooms that match your gown, and then we can pick some and ask your maid to make a display for your chamber.”
“Your Grace, you are most thoughtful,” Charlotte said, and he thought he saw a hint of something in her eyes that had not been there before. Perhaps, at last, she was starting to believe that he genuinely did want to spend time in her company. And the more time he spent with her, the more he felt that he might not be quite so happy to give her up to the hapless Lord Harry after all. But the situation seemed to be escalating even beyond his control.
* * *
Alison was in her room when her mother burst in without even knocking. She rolled her eyes. What kind of crisis was unfolding now? She had been pacing the room alone for what felt like hours, with no idea what was going on in the rest of the house. She was frankly furious at being excluded from a visit from such an esteemed guest and left alone to try to guess what was happening.
“Alison, you will not believe what has occurred!” Lady Margaret said, striding across the room towards where Alison stood by the window.
“Is the Duke still here?” Alison asked. She had no idea why he had come – she had not genuinely imagined that he had any designs on her, but it seemed even more unlikely that he was seriously interested in her stepsister. It was too far-fetched a notion to be even scarcely credible. But the furious look on her mother’s face told her that something truly awful had happened.
“The Duke is in the garden with your stepsister!”
Alison turned to look out of the window, and sure enough, she could now see the Duke and Charlotte walking along one of the paths towards the flower garden, arm-in-arm. “You mean he came to pay court toher?” She could scarcely believe her eyes or her ears. How could a man such as the Duke be interested in an oddity like her stepsister?
“I know, it is almost unbelievable,” Lady Margaret raged. “Just look at her, parading herself with him as if she even deserves a glance from him, let alone this perverse interest he is showing her!” She gave a snort. “Perhaps she is telling him her mother’s gardening tips.”
Alison barked out a laugh. “Are you sure that he knows all about her, and what her mother was like?”
“Well, that is what I wanted to talk to you about,” Lady Margaret said, dropping her voice a little. “All is not lost. We simply have to formulate a strategy.”
Alison moved closer to her mother, intrigued as to what she was about to suggest. If there was anything they could do to prevent this match between the Duke and her stepsister and even to turn his attention in a more appropriate direction, Alison was only too willing to be involved.
* * *
A little later, Martha and Charlotte were back in Charlotte’s chamber, preparing themselves for dinner with the Duke. There was a definite sense of tension throughout the house as the servants scurried about to prepare everything. It was not usual for such a high-ranking guest to be among them, and the kitchen staff had not had enough time to prepare. On her way back from the garden, before she had scurried away upstairs, Charlotte had heard the harsh tones of her stepmother upbraiding the cook about something. The last thing she wanted at this moment was to see her stepmother; it did not take much of a feat of imagination to guess how Lady Margaret was feeling right now in response to the events of the day.
She glanced in the mirror. She had changed into a different gown, and Sally had been in to curl the sisters’ hair in preparation for the meal, but now they were alone. “There is so much getting ready to do, is there not?” she sighed. “Perhaps it is just as well that this courtship is fake, and I shall never be a duchess. I am not sure I should have the energy to change in and out of so many outfits every day and spend so many hours worrying about my appearance.”
Martha looked at her shrewdly. “I suspect, sister, that you would get used to it if you had to.”
Charlotte laughed. “I expect you are right,” she agreed. “It would be pleasant indeed to be secure and to have that elevated status in society. No one would dare to look down on me if I were married to the Duke of Seton.” She puffed out a breath, sending a stray curl flying into the air before it landed back down on her temple, where it belonged. “But it is all nonsense. I am not going to marry the Duke. This is all a ruse to make Lord Harry see sense. He is the one I want, after all.”
But the doubts were beginning to creep in, even as she said the words. Lord Harry had never kept his word, but the Duke had done exactly as he had promised. He had even faced the fury of her stepmother and had not been cowed by it. And Lord Harry would not even dance with her in public, and now he had engaged himself to another.
But when she remembered what it had been like between them, in that golden interlude of time when they were able to spend time together, she felt her heart soften. Lord Harry had been sweet, attentive and flattering. She had enjoyed being with him, enjoyed the way he looked at her and how he made her feel. If this plan were to work, then, of course, she would be happy if he renewed his attentions towards her.
Her sister stood on the other side of the room, smoothing her gown. She looked very pretty, despite the old-fashioned cut of the dress. Charlotte’s own dress was a deep blue color; the hue brought out the sparkling color of her eyes, and she knew that it was the best garment she possessed, even though it did not come close to Alison’s dresses in terms of the latest fashions.
But it would have to do. And she knew that the Duke would not care that her dress was not cut in an up-to-date style, although she was well aware that he had noticed that she and her sister stood out from the crowd for all the wrong reasons at the Thomas’s ball.
A gong sounded in the hallway downstairs, reverberating through the corridors of the house.
“Are you ready, sister?” Martha asked softly. “You are not nervous?”
Charlotte shook her head. She found, despite herself, that she was not at all anxious. The situation was unusual, there was no doubt about it, but she trusted the Duke to handle things with propriety, and she was rather looking forward to sitting next to him at dinner and being able to converse with him freely. She had enjoyed their walk, too; something of the former ease they had shared at the ball had returned, and they had spent an enjoyable afternoon looking at the different flowers and plants in the garden. Charlotte had told the Duke as much as she could remember of the things her mother had taught her about gardening, and he had marveled at her knowledge.
“I am not nervous,” she said to her sister, then took her arm. “Are you?”
Martha giggled. “I confess I am a little! I have never had dinner with a duke before!”
