Page 76 of Her Scottish Duke
“I have to marry. You know this. You and I have discussed this. You have helped me to rebuild a dowry by paying me for these lessons, but it’s not enough to rescue my family’s financial position. I must marry,” she said miserably. “No matter what kisses may pass between us.”
The look he sent her was so smoldering, she felt as if she had been scorched by those eyes.
“Do not look at me like that,” she begged, her voice harsh. “You have your resolutions in life, and I have my own. They are just different paths, are they not?”
“Yes, they are,” he said curtly, almost brusquely.
“This is your final lesson.”
“It must be. I have to return to Scotland to attend to business there.”
“Then we shall not see one another again.” The pain in Charlotte’s chest was growing now, but she was determined not to let it show. She held onto all the lessons of propriety her aunt had ever given her. She raised her chin high, didn’t dare blink in case she broke the connection of their gazes, and kept her hands very still so she did not fidget. She was as immovable as stone. “You are now a true gentleman of theton, Your Grace.”
She used his title, watching as something in his jawline flickered.
He didn’t like me calling him that.
He abruptly spun on his heel and walked away. He reached for his tailcoat which was slung across a chair nearby and snapped it up, reaching into the pocket and pulling out his wallet. He marched back toward her, a fistful of cash that he thrust in her direction.
She flinched and backed up.
“Take it,” he urged. “You earned it. You have given me your final lesson.”
“You have already given me enough.” She shook her head. “I wish for no more. Besides, taking your money after a kiss like that,” she winced, “that would feel wrong indeed.”
She turned, determined not to look at him another time. She hastened toward the exit of the room, knowing in her mind that she had lied through her teeth.
Not only had she lied about setting her cap at Mr. Withers, she had also lied that he had given her enough money for a dowry. If she had intended to still find a husband, then the more money she had, the easier a task that would have been. As it was, she suddenly didn’t care about finding a husband anymore.
The thought of tying herself to marry one man when the Duke of Rodstone was so out of reach disgusted her.
How can I ever look at another man as I have looked at him?
“Charlotte? Charlotte!” he called racing after her, though she didn’t let up her pace. She ran all the way to the door, determined to escape him. She snatched up her spencer jacket from the coat stand hurrying to pull it on, though his hands took it from her. He helped her into the coat, though he moved slowly, his fingers brushing her arms.
With her back toward him, she closed her eyes, both tempted and infuriated by such a simple touch from him.
“Let us not say goodbye in this way,” he said with a determined urgency in his tone.
“We said earlier tonight how you so often get what you want, that you’re quite fixed upon the idea.” She turned back to facehim, not quite meeting his gaze. “I’m afraid this is one way in which I must deny you.”
She curtsied deeply, still avoiding looking him in the eye.
“Goodbye, Your Grace. I wish you well and a safe journey to your homeland.” She stood straight and turned hurriedly to the door.
He looked tempted to block her exit again, his hand on the door as he had done before, but she was ready for him this time and opened the door before he had chance, darting out into the open air.
“Charlotte!” he called after her, but she raced away as quickly as she possibly could.
She moved so fast that by the time she reached her horse, her lungs were burning with her heavy breathing. As she turned the horse and left, refusing to allow herself the weakness of looking back at the house for one last glimpse of him, she allowed herself one thing.
Tears started to roll down her cheeks.
“Everything is ready, Your Grace,” Mrs. Philips called from the hallway of the house. “The carriage is packed.”
“Thank ye,” Gerard called back to her, but he did not move. He was sitting quite alone in his living room, looking around at the empty space. He had his frock coat on, ready to leave, and his hat in his grasp. He should have left already, really, but he was finding it particularly hard to go. Every time he thought about making this journey alone, his gut tightened against it.
Beyond the doorway, Mrs. Philips hurried off again. He heard her call some words to the other staff, checking they had packed him a lunch and some food to eat on the journey up north. She also checked that the driver was aware of all the inns they were to stop at on the way.
