For a second, Charlotte thought she had been seen by him, but he looked away again. She was caught up in the shadows between the yew bushes, impossible to see.
“Will you not sit with me, Your Grace?” The lady tapped the seat of the bench beside her.
The Duke of Rodstone was no great fool. He shook his head, refusing her offer, prompting the lady to lean so far forward that she nearly fell off the bench. She now buffeted the fan in front of her open neckline so much that Charlotte had to bite her lip not to laugh.
She is attempting to ensnare him in scandal, so that he will marry her!
Charlotte realized at once what was afoot. It seemed that despite the lady’s trepidation of the duke of whom everyone was so afraid, she knew that being a duchess would give her a step-up in life. A step she could not afford to miss out on.
“Nay, I think we should return to the assembly,” the duke said in a gruff tone. His Scottish accent was plain to hear.
Charlotte flinched in surprise at the rough sound, as did the lady with him. She sat back a little, her cheek trembling, before she managed to adopt an easy look once more.
“Another minute,” she pleaded.
Sounds echoed down the garden. Charlotte turned, hearing the laughter of the men who had been on the veranda smoking. They were now evidently walking this way, the sounds of their laughter getting nearer.
He will be trapped. This new Duke of Rodstone will be trapped in marriage at his first ever event in the ton!
Charlotte didn’t think through her actions. All she knew was that she had to stop the impropriety in front of her, before she thought about the error she was making herself.
“Excuse me,” she called out and stumbled into the courtyard.
The lady on the bench dropped her fan, jumping so much in alarm, and the Duke of Rodstone flicked his head around.
Charlotte managed to trip on the edge of one of the flagstones. It gave her an idea and she adopted her walk into a hobble.
“I wonder if I could pray on your kindness,” she said, limping a little. “I am afraid I have twisted my ankle on this walk. Would you two be so kind as to accompany me back to the assembly?”
“No, we would not.” The lady stood swiftly with her face as red as the roses nearby. She was outraged, her nostrils flaring, though the Duke of Rodstone now had his back to her and did not seem to notice.
There was a strange moment where the Duke of Rodstone just stared at Charlotte and she looked back at him, in the vain hope he would understand the offer she was making to help him out of this predicament. She extended a hand toward him.
Those eyes, could they be green? They were hard for her to tell in this light. They seemed to move up and down her, taking in her injured ankle and her face.
“Your Grace?” she said, urging him to say something, for the laughter was getting nearer and nearer now.
“Oh, aye. Of course.” He moved toward her and took her hand. His large palm could practically encase her small one in a single grasp. He helped her toward the bench. “First, take a rest here. We daenae want ye to injure the ankle any further.”
“Thank you.” She smiled as she sat down beside the lady, who had now returned to her seat.
The Duke stepped back when the laughter of the other men approached. His distraction allowed Charlotte the minute she needed. She pulled on the lady’s arm beside her and hissed in her ear.
“Have no fear, my lady, now there will be no scandal,” she warned. “You are quite safe from any scandal with the duke.”
The lady’s lips parted so far, it was a wonder that a jaw could fall that slack. Her eyes darted over Charlotte’s face, just beforethe duke returned his focus to the pair of them. She had clearly noted the tinge of irony in Charlotte’s tone. She’d said such a thing to suggest she was looking out for the woman, even though she suggested that the duke, for all his scary looks, might have indeed been the prey in this situation.
The group of smoking gentlemen had peered into the courtyard, but finding three of them together, merely walked on. There was no scandal here to hold their interest.
“Yes, perhaps we should return to the assembly room.” The lady lifted her voice and stood, nearly knocking Charlotte off the bench. “I’ll lead the way.”
“Are ye sure yer ankle can bear it?” The duke gestured to Charlotte. He looked ready to kneel down before her, to check his ankle herself. He even bent a knee ready to do so, but Charlotte knew how such a thing would look if someone else was to come along.
“I am sure I can hobble along,” she said swiftly and stood before he had chance to sink himself down any further.
“Here, take me arm, lass,” the duke said, proffering his arm.
“Thank you.” Charlotte took his arm, woodenly at first, before she grew aware of just how strong and stable that arm was. He seemed quite determined to be of use to her as they followed the lady out of the courtyard and onto the path between the yew bushes.
