Page 26 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

Charlotte frowned and took the letter. “For me?”

“Your parents, I believe.”

“Oh!” Charlotte was quick to break the wax seal. There was but one reason they might have written to her, and she prayed the news was good. A moment to scan the tightly written scrawl and her heart dropped. “Oh, no.”

“Your Grace?” Miss Barrow asked. “Is something the matter?”

“It’s nothing.” Charlotte dropped the letter on the table. “My parents were just writing to inform me that my sister wasn’t at my aunt’s home. My aunt hasn’t seen her and has no idea where she is. Nobody does, it seems.” She sighed and slumped in her chair, feeling worry set in, only to notice that Miss Barrow was still standing over her. “But you don’t care about that.” She laughed.

“I’m sure she’ll be all right,” Miss Barrow said. “If she is anything like her sister, I can’t imagine anything might harm her.”

Charlotte forced a smile to show her thanks, even if she didn’t entirely agree with the housekeeper. Her sister was strong and smart and able, that was true. But she was also shortsighted, unpredictable, and wholly chaotic. Even the suggestion that she might have run away to their aunt’s home had never sat right with Charlotte, just because it was too obvious a choice.

Thinking on it now, Charlotte wondered where her sister might have gone. She thought of that night in the tavern and what an utter failure it was. Not because it hadn’t been a good idea but because she hadn’t committed to it. There were a handful of taverns that her sister had spoken about over the years, ones that she spoke of as if they were a second home. If Beatrice was still in the vicinity of London, then logic said that she might have been hiding out at one of these. And if not there specifically, maybe there was someone there who knew her.

On the one hand, Charlotte wanted to not get on the wrong side of her husband. After last night, the new path they were on was what mattered most. On the other hand, she also wanted to find her sister and make sure she was all right. And when an idea suddenly came to her, she wondered for a moment if she should err on the side of caution and not risk doing anything foolish.

But then she remembered that for once, she knew where Henry had gone and, most importantly, when he would be back. That being not until tonight.

A smile spread across her face, and she looked up at Miss Barrow. “Miss Barrow, I was wondering if you might do something for me.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“You know His Grace as well as anyone, I would assume.”

“Very well, Your Grace. What is it you want to know?”

“I was hoping you might go to his wardrobe and select a pair of trousers, a shirt, some boots, and a coat that you know he hasn’t worn in a while. And a hat,” Charlotte added when she realized she didn’t have her wig.

Miss Barrow frowned and tilted her head. “You want me to…”

“His clothes, Miss Barrow. A shirt. A coat. A pair of boots. A pair of trousers. And a hat.” Charlotte raised an eyebrow at the housekeeper, letting her know her word was final. “Oh, and this is just between us.” Her eyebrow rose further up her brow.

“Of course, Your Grace.” Miss Barrow bobbed a brief curtsey, considered a moment, and then scurried out of the room.

With that sorted, Charlotte went back to her plate. She had a big morning ahead of her, she now realized, and needed to be well fed.

* * *

The day had turned into a complete waste of time. Oh sure, Charlotte had visited five separate taverns, and even asked the keepers there if they had seen anyone matching Beatrice’s description… the male version of her, that is. But with each tavern visited, each question asked, the answer returned was always the same. “No.”

In hindsight, Charlotte supposed it had been too much to hope for. The taverns that she visited were located on the main road to London—and in one or two small towns along the way—a distance of about ten miles from Hayward Estate, not too far because she didn’t want to risk not making it home in time for supper, but still known drinking holes that her sister had mentioned to her from time to time.

Now that she thought of it, however, the likelihood of finding anything had always been a shot in the dark. Her sister had been gone for three weeks now, and her parents had scoured the countryside in search of her. If she was nearby, anywhere within a day or two of London, they would have found her.

And so it was that Charlotte found herself trotting along the main road on her way back to Hayward Castle. It was still relatively early, and from her best guess, she was not fifteen minutes away from Hayward Estate. She would arrive home, stable the horse, wash herself, put her husband’s clothes away, bathe and get dressed, and he’d be none the wiser. The perfect crime.

Charlotte was still chuckling to herself when she spotted two men on horseback down the road. They had pulled to the side as one of them looked to be stepping out of the brush, likely having urinated—a thought Charlotte would have never had until today! The sun was in her eyes, so she couldn’t make them out clearly, but it was no matter. She fixed a pleasant smile on her face as she came in beside them, readying to offer a friendly wave and a nod of her head as she carried on down the road.

But as she came closer, the sun dipped just a little, giving her a better look at the two men. The one who came from the brush was chubby and dressed in common clothes. He wore a big, goofy smile and barely paid her any attention. The one still on horseback… even without seeing his face, Charlotte knew who it was.

Her eyes went wide, and she tried to look away, but he turned back in his saddle and met her eyes, and the shock that crossed his face was very quickly replaced by a cold glare that seemed to freeze the setting sun in the sky.

Charlotte froze, unable to look away, face stricken, jaw slack, and cheeks red due to the embarrassment andfearthat took hold.

The man on the horse was her husband, and by all accounts, he was none too pleased to see her.

ChapterNine

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