Page 2 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

As to what that move was exactly? Charlotte was the one who found the note. It sat folded on the edge of Beatrice’s bed, so inconspicuous that Charlotte might have missed it if she hadn’t already suspected something. But after her conversation with her sister just last night, how determined she was not to marry the Duke, there had been a niggle of fear buried deep inside of her. A suspicion that Beatrice was going to do something foolish.

As it turned out, Charlotte was right.

The note was unclear, but reading between the lines, it could be assumed that rather than being forced into a marriage that she did not want, Beatrice had run away instead. To where? One could only guess. Not that it mattered much, for if Beatrice had indeed run, there was no chance that she would return of her own volition. She’d have to be dragged back, such was how stubborn she was.

“Charlotte!” her father cried suddenly. “Here, please.” He pointed to a spot right in front of him.

Charlotte was quick to hurry to where he pointed, knowing better than to test her father in this state. He was a loving man and a good father, not the type to be feared. But when his temper was like this… it was better to err on the side of caution.

“Did you know about this?” he barked and waved the note at her.

“What?” Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Of course not.”

“Beatrice didn’t say anything?”

“Like what? That she meant to run away?” Charlotte said nervously, feeling a slither of guilt creep in because although she didn’t think her sister would actually run away, she also knew her sister well enough that she should have suspected something. “No, Father, she did not. How could you ask me that?”

“The two of you are always talking,” he grumbled. “I thought she might have mentioned something. Said something. Implied it!”

“She told me she didn’t want to marry His Grace,” Charlotte offered instead. “But surely, that shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

Her father frowned at her. “And what does that mean?”

“Well…” Charlotte looked away sheepishly. “The things people say about him.”

“Such as?”

Charlotte looked at her mother for support, but her mother eyed her with the same questioning look as her father. “You know,” she offered nervously. “That he is…”

“Is what?”

“That he likes…” She considered how to phrase it. “That he likes the company of women. A little too much.” She looked at her father. “That he is a rake.”

“And what does Beatrice know of such things!” her father snapped. “What is she even doing, listening to these sorts of rumors? After all the effort I put into arranging this marriage. A duke! And she lets a little gossip get in the way of…” His body shook. “Why didn’t you stop her?!”

“I did!” Charlotte cried. “I tried. In fact, I was the one trying to convince her it wouldn’t be as bad as she assumed—that the gossip was just that. I reasoned that she should be so lucky.”

“Of course you did,” her mother crooned and rubbed her shoulder. “And your father didn’t mean it. Did you, Phineas?” She widened her eyes at him again.

He curled his lip and looked away. “No… of course not. If you had suspected, I know you would have said something.”

At least they were willing to say as much. But from the sounds of it, that was all they were willing to do. Her father would shout. Her mother would moan. But short of that, Charlotte knew that they had no idea where they might find their eldest daughter.

And so, Charlotte began to think, a shudder running up her spine when she realized where her sister might be and what she was going to have to do to bring her back. And sure, she could just tell her father and let him deal with it, but she loved Beatrice enough that she didn’t want it to come to that. If Beatrice was to be found, the task would fall on Charlotte’s shoulders. But then again, didn’t it always?

* * *

“I don’t like this,” Miss Forbes said, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“You don’t have to like it,” Charlotte reminded her. “You just have to not say anything.”

“And if your father asks?” Miss Forbes rebutted. “Or if they check on you, only to find your bed empty? Then what?”

“It won’t come to that.” Charlotte spun about and raised a warning eyebrow at the elderly housekeeper. “My parents have no reason to check on me as I sleep. It’s not as if I’m the one getting married,” she added with a grin.

“Your sister used to do the same thing,” Miss Forbes said. “And every time she did, I told her—I told her! It was just a matter of time until someone found out.”

“Which nobody ever did.”

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