Page 89 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

“So what? You’re going to risk getting her and everyone else sick?”

“If that’s what happens.”

“God, you are stubborn!”

“You’re saying this as if you have only just met me.” As hoped, Charlotte was beginning to feel better already. Having been at it for five minutes now, her stomach was settling, and the urge to vomit was fading. She took a few deep breaths, steadied herself, and then stood up. “There.” She spun about and smiled in triumph. “Told you. All better.”

Henry didn’t appear nearly as pleased as he should have been. If anything, he looked even more concerned than he had yesterday when this had started. But that was always his way—a harder outer shell but a big softie beneath.

“You feel fine?” he asked warily.

“As good as new,” she said, strolling toward him, intending to throw her arms around him in a hug.

He held her back. “Don’t you think that is a bit strange?”

“I’ve always healed fast.”

“And you’re not lying to me?” he asked her warily. “This isn’t some ruse so you don’t miss your sister’s return?”

She looked at him flatly. “Would I do that to you?”

“Honestly?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Yes. And you wouldn’t even hesitate.”

To that, she simply grinned and pumped her eyebrows before throwing her arms around him and forcing him into a hug.

Despite the sickness, one that was now gone as if it had never been, Charlotte was in an excellent mood today. Or perhaps a curious mood, with room for excitement to prosper. The Season was upon them, and tonight promised to be a most interesting start to the festivities. Most strangely, Beatrice had agreed to allow their father to set her up with someone, someone whom neither Charlotte nor Beatrice had met. Tonight was to be their first introduction, an event that Charlotte had promised to be in attendance for. For moral support, if nothing more.

“Who do you think it is?” Charlotte asked as she pulled back from Henry. “This mystery man. Father wouldn’t say.”

“Does it matter?” Henry took her hand, feeling her pulse while holding his other against her forehead to check her temperature. “We all know how it’s going to end.”

“Meaning?”

Henry looked at her flatly. “Do you remember the last time your sister was supposed to meet a potential suitor?”

“I do,” she responded, just as flatly. “And as you will recall, that wasn’t so much a meeting as it was a marriage prospect. This is far more casual and thus has infinitely more potential.”

“Your temperature is fine.” He frowned and lowered his hand. “And you’re sure you feel healthy?”

“I am fine.” Charlotte sighed. “Honestly, it was probably just something I ate.”

“Two days in a row?”

“Maybe we need to hire new kitchen staff.”

Before Henry had a chance to respond, Miss Barrow swept into the room. She was a ball of energy this morning, positively beaming to herself.

“I heard the good news!” She swept into Charlotte and gave her a big hug. Then, most shockingly, she turned and did the same to Henry.

“Miss Barrow!” Henry gasped.

“Sorry, Your Grace.” She took a quick step back, blushing furiously with embarrassment. “I just couldn’t help myself—it’s a good day. Can you blame me?”

“So, you heard, didn’t you?” Charlotte said, assuming she was speaking of Beatrice.

“I did.” Miss Barrow beamed at them both. “It’s all around the castle.”

Charlotte frowned. “It is?”

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