Page 53 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

“Oh, maybe.” Charlotte shrugged, feigning disinterest the best she could. “I’ll let you know once you return.”

Henry looked at her flatly. “Now, you’re just trying to hurt me.”

She grinned wickedly. “Only because I know how much you secretly love it.” His face dropped further, and she rolled her eyes. “Of course, I’ll miss you. If for no other reason than I won’t know what to do with myself while you’re gone.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He chuckled.

About to climb on his horse, Henry hesitated. Then he turned back, stepped into Charlotte, wrapped a hand around her back, and pulled her in for a searing kiss. She accepted it without hesitation, secretly having hoped he would do such a thing, not at all surprised by how long the kiss lasted, as the two refused to part from one another.

Eventually, Oliver, who was waiting on his own horse right beside them, watching the whole thing play out, cleared his throat, which made the two pull back and grin mischievously at one another.

“I’ll try and return by sundown,” Henry assured her.

“Please do,” she said, meaning it.

He smiled at her, gave her another quick kiss on the lips, and then finally mounted his horse and steered it out of the estate. And Charlotte watched him go, saddened to see her husband leaving her while at the same time knowing that in this particular instance, it was probably for the best.

It had been three days now since the two returned from confronting Beatrice and forcing her to go home, and in those three days, barely an hour passed when the two weren’t wrapped in one another’s arms. Literally.

Henry had been like an animal in the throes of heat. Unable to get enough of his wife. Unwilling to let her rest or recuperate lost bodily fluids. If they were awake, they were together, and there was really nothing Charlotte could do about it. Not that she wanted to, mind you. As lustful as Henry was, she was just as much, unable to control herself, finding that she would bait and poke him if she sensed him getting bored, more than willing to anger him even because she knew that was a failsafe that always worked.

These last three days had felt different from the previous week. Henry had been… more dominant, somehow. Subtle. Nothing outright aggressive or beyond what she could handle. But after what had happened in the carriage, it was as if he needed to make a point that he was the one who decided when they would be together, he was the one who was in charge here, and he was the one who dictated the pleasure.

She needed the break. She needed to recover physically. A day spent resting and recuperating because she was certain that when the Duke returned, she was going to need it.

A shame then that her day of rest wasn’t meant to be, for no sooner had she walked back inside, thinking that she might spend the morning reading, than Miss Barrow rushed down the stairs to greet her.

“Your Grace!’ she cried out with exasperation. “A carriage approaches!”

“What?” Charlotte spun back as if expecting to see through the timber door that led outside. “Who?”

“I’m not sure, Your Grace. I saw it from upstairs. Should I send for His Grace? A rider should be able to catch him.”

“It’s fine,” Charlotte assured her as she swept back toward the door. “Whoever it is, I’m sure I can deal with it.”

As things turned out, she was right about that, at least. Although, in hindsight, Charlotte also wondered if maybe she should have sent for her husband. She really could have used him.

The carriage, it turned out, held her mother, her two sisters, and her little brothers. Far too small for all five of them, they alighted from the carriage in a state of chaos that was a sign of the things to come.

“Charlotte!” her mother cried the moment her feet hit the dirt. She swept into her daughter and threw her arms about her. “I would have sent word, but there wasn’t time!”

“M-mother!” Charlotte balked as her mother’s arms wrapped around her. “What’s going on? Where’s Father?” She looked over her mother’s shoulder, spotting her sisters and brothers but not her father.

“Good question,” Beatrice said with a curled lip as she joined the pair. “Not one I’m going to answer, however.”

“What does that mean?”

“Charlotte!” Nathanial squealed, throwing himself at his older sister, and grabbing her by the waist.

“Charlotte!” his twin brother, Stephen, echoed as he tried to force him back, so he might hug his sister, too.

“You two!” Hannah sighed, grabbing a hold of Nathanial while trying to pull Stephen back. “Good day, Charlotte,” she said.

“Hannah, what’s going on?”

“I’m hungry!” Nathanial cried out, pushing out of his sister’s arms.

“Nathanial!” her mother chastised.

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