Page 25 of Her Scottish Duke
“Then ken how fortunate ye are, Charlotte,” he whispered, well aware he had not used her title. She parted her lips, as if toreprimand him for it, but he hurried on, determined to speak something real to her before she quieted him on this subject forever. “Nae every mother is so fortunate to have as happy a life as yer mother has. Trust me in that.” He had deepened his tone before pulling out the money and passing it to the teahouse owner who passed them by.
“Oh.” Charlotte made a strange gasping sound. He could not decipher what it meant, but his gut was now tightening. Had he revealed too much? Had he offered a hint into his personal life that she would feel was wrong to talk of in public? “Here,” she said suddenly and proffered up a handkerchief for him. “The cake we ate earlier… there are crumbs on your chin.”
“Ah, thank ye.” He took the handkerchief, their fingers brushing together. Her touch was strangely warm, and it was that which he thought of as he brushed aside the crumbs, and stared at her. She seemed to be staring intently at him too. Her full lips parted, the glimmer of some sort of excitement in her eyes, as if she had something very particular to say to him.
“Your Grace –”
“Gerard,” he reminded her.
“Your Grace,” yet she smiled as she said the words. “About mothers?—”
“Ah, right, are we ready?” Lady Winchester’s voice suddenly sounded behind Gerard. He stood, gesturing for Charlotte to walk in front of him. Her eyes kept appraising him as he did so.
“Did I do something right for a change, lass?” he whispered in her ear.
“Do not whisper in a lady’s ear,” she rebuked him, yet he caught her smile as she pulled on her bonnet and went to follow her mother and younger sister out of the teahouse. He trailed behind them, hovering in the road with them as they said goodbye.
“Thank ye for letting me join you for the tea, me lady. It was most kind of ye,” Gerard said with a bow to Lady Winchester.
“You were most kind to join us.” Lady Winchester clasped his arm in a kindly way and smiled up at him. “We look forward at seeing you at more events soon, Your Grace. Rose, wish the duke goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” She curtsied to him, her eyes flitting between him and Charlotte.
“Goodbye, Lady Rose.” He bowed to her, then turned to Charlotte. “And to ye.”
“Good day, Your Grace.” She curtsied, avoiding his gaze and staring at the cobbled road beneath them. He could have sworn there was another blush in her cheeks now, though he had no idea what it was for.
He watched them walk away, not moving for a while, his eyes on Charlotte. When she reached the end of the road, she halted behind her family and glanced back in his direction. It wasa minute thing, momentary, yet as she looked at him, Gerard inhaled sharply.
What does that look mean, lass?
Then she turned and was gone.
Gerard smiled to himself as he walked down the street, searching for Osmund’s, the tailors that Charlotte had told him about. When he came upon the modiste shop where she had been gazing at the window, he halted.
The gown she had admired so much was still in the window, the sage green silk glimmering in the soft sunlight of the day. Beyond the gown and bolts of material displayed against the glass, he could see people meandering around the shop. There were mostly ladies inside of the shop, and only one gentleman. He shifted nervously, adjusting the gloves on his hands and wondering if he was about to make some other great transgression.
Hang transgressions. It will make her smile, will it nae?
He reached for the door and stepped inside, moving toward the modiste on the till. She finished serving another customer then smiled up at him.
“May I help you, sir?”
“Aye.” He struggled, adjusting his gloves once more and clearing his throat as was becoming his habitual way, then gestured at the window. “The gown in the window. Would it be possible to have one made?”
“A gift, sir? Of course.” The modiste pulled out a large ledger, opened it wide, and picked up a pencil, scribbling his order down. “Do you have the measurements for the young lady?”
He hesitated, glancing around at the others in the shop. No one was paying attention to him, but he whispered all the same.
“Nay, I daenae. Do ye by any chance have the measurements for a Lady Charlotte Morton on file? Daughter of Lord Winchester.”
“I do have her measurements, sir.” The modiste smiled, halting with the pencil. “Is it a courting gift?”
“What? Nay, nay. It is just…”
What is it?
He had no words for what it was. All he knew was that the look of longing he wished to satisfy which had been in Charlotte’s eyes as she gazed at the gown.
