No, no, no.
She wouldn’t allow herself to be drawn in again. She stepped forward. It would no longer be impolite to leave as they had greeted one another.
Except, behind her and with urgency, he said, “Wait! I wanted to… apologize.”
Apologize?
Her pulse thrummed through her body, but she didn’t hesitate any longer. She turned and smiled to him as if he were just another guest.
“For what, Your Grace?”
He tilted his head and looked at her as if to sayyou know what for.
“I didn’t mean to…” he looked around at the other guests. “To startle you earlier. You disappeared so quickly that I—”
Charlotte cleared her throat. “Yes, well, I am sorry too, Your Grace.”
She turned and scurried to the far end of the room, huddling into the corner by the window, half-hidden by the large damask drapes. To her surprise, the duke followed her.
“Are you all right?” he whispered. “I didn’t… I wouldn’t…” He shook his head. “I don’t want you to feel as though anything has changed.”
“But everything has changed, Your Grace.”
“Will you please call me Alexander? I have asked before, and now that we have kissed, I should think formality is no longer an issue.”
To hear him say the words so openly, so plainly, shocked her almost as much as the kiss itself had. It made it feel more real, more tangible. Like something that had happened in real life and not merely in her over-active fantasies.
“I appreciate your kindness, Your Grace,” she said, not quite ready to remove the formality. “I am quite all right, but what happened this afternoon—and the other day at the hunt—it was a mistake. It should not have happened.”
The duke straightened, a barrier having come down between them, and Charlotte wanted to reach out to him, to tell him she was a fool, that there was no mistake. That she loved every second of it, and she wished he would kiss her again.
“Yes, quite right,” he said. “I am glad we have that sorted. Now, if you don’t mind...”
He bowed and turned. Charlotte let her breath out slowly, both relieved that he had gone and wishing he would come back all at the same time. She watched as he moved between the guests, nodding and smiling at various people, stopping to talk to others.
“Who is that?”
Charlotte jumped at the sound of Aunt Lydia’s voice, silently cursing the fact that she had a back at all. Why did people always insist on sneaking up on her?
“Oh, no one important,” she replied, turning to her aunt with a smile. “The Duke of Ashbourne. He is here as a companion to Lord Stewart Stanhope, cousin to Chelsea.”
“And he has been here the entire time you have?” she asked, eyeing him carefully.
“No, not at all. He arrived some weeks later,” Charlotte replied. It wasn’tentirelya lie. “I don’t know him all the well, if I’m honest.”
“You seemed to know one another very well,” Aunt Lydia replied, looking Charlotte up and down as if trying to find the lie. “Indeed, your conversation looked positively private.”
Charlotte giggled nervously. “Only if you think talking about the weather is private. The duke thinks it is going to rain tomorrow, whereas I am certain it will be clement.”
Aunt Lydia let out a disbelieving hum. “Very well,” she said. “But he doesn’t look the gentlemanly sort, and the fact that I have yet to meet him in a social setting makes me wonder abouthis background. You would do well to stay away from him. Do you hear me?”
“Of course,” Charlotte said. “I find him most disagreeable anyhow.”
Chapter 16
Charlotte’s eyes welled up with tears as she watched her friend in the looking glass. It was the next morning, and they were finally preparing for the wedding. The maid slipped another pin into her hair, winding around the fine golden threads they had bought at the haberdashery.
“Can you believe that in just a few hours, you will be Lady Leming?”
