Page 94 of Her Scottish Duke
“Charlotte? Charlotte!” Margaret’s voice was hissing from somewhere at a distance.
“What?” Charlotte murmured sluggishly. She rolled over in the bed, trying to bury herself back down beneath the covers. At least in this bed, she could absorb herself in oblivion and forget the events from the night before.
“She will not wake,” Rose cried, her voice also distant. “Shall I find a basin of water to throw on her?”
“Rose!” Margaret cried in outrage. “Well, I suppose if we cannot wake her soon, we must. First, let us try this.”
The blankets were suddenly flicked off Charlotte’s body.
“Mother!” Charlotte sat up in bed. “What on earth is going on? Give me back my blankets.” She was now cold, wearing only her nightgown, with her hair loose, as she looked about the room.
Rose was barely dressed herself. Her hair hadn’t yet been done and the shoulders of her gown were so misaligned that Charlotte rather wondered if her sister had just thrown the dress over her head. Margaret, however, was the most dressed, though judging by the pale pallor of her skin, something had risen her from her bed with a shock.
“You cannot go back to sleep now.” Margaret wafted the blankets at her. “We have a visitor.”
“At this time of the morning?” Charlotte murmured, yawning and trying her best to reach for the blankets again. “You go and greet them. You are the most dressed of the three of us.” She at last got the blankets and threw them back over her own head.
“Something tells me that the Duke of Rodstone might not be half so pleased with my company as he would yours.”
Charlotte froze for a second beneath the blankets, certain she’d misheard her mother, then she abruptly sat up in bed.
“I thought that might get her up,” Margaret declared with triumph, turning to Rose who was now doing her best to fix her own hair into an updo.
“Ge – the duke is here?” she stuttered, nearly using his Christian name.
“He is.” Margaret rolled her eyes. “Calling this early in the morning? Even I would remark at the impropriety of it.” Thenshe laughed. “Well, he must have something very particular to say. He’s now in conference with your father. So, shall we dress you, Charlotte? Or do you wish to spend all day in bed?”
Charlotte blinked. She thought of the kiss she and Gerard had shared the night before, and how he had been about to ask her something.
She stumbled out of the bed, and in her haste, promptly fell flat on her face. Rose burst out laughing, but Margaret reached down with concern to help her up again.
“Wonderful,” Charlotte huffed, and she felt a growing bruise on her chin. “How attractive this will be.”
“Come, let us help you get dressed.”
Charlotte dressed faster than she could ever remember dressing before. In her hurry, she had not tied her stays properly. Margaret’s attempt was also futile for she was so distracted. In the end, the maid urged Margaret’s hands out of the way and did it for them.
“Any news from the maids?” Margaret asked the maid with some desperation. “Are the two of them still in conference?”
“In the study, yes,” the maid said with a nod.
Charlotte’s stomach leapt with excitement. She waved madly at Rose to pull gowns out of the cupboard, but each one Rose reached for merely frustrated Charlotte.
“Not that one. No, not that one either. Rose! Are you trying to dress me in awful clothes?”
“They are in your wardrobe!” Rose reminded her. “Goodness, when we go downstairs, the duke will wonder what all this noise is about.”
“We will go down and be perfectly serious and proper,” Margaret assured her, pushing her aside and pulling out an ivory white gown from the wardrobe and hurrying toward Charlotte with it. “What would Susan say if we all ran down the stairs like headless chickens, eh?”
Charlotte couldn’t laugh with her mother and sister, for she was too busy threading herself into the gown. The maid hurried so much with putting her hair in pins, that more than once did Charlotte end up pinned in the head. She winced, figuring any new bruises would at least match the fresh one on her chin.
“Ready?” Charlotte asked, standing and turning into a mad circle.
“Ready.” Margaret nodded in approval.
Charlotte darted out of the room, running until Margaret caught up with her. Taking her shoulder, Margaret urged her to walkslowly and calmly across the landing. Rose followed behind, mirroring Charlotte’s regal countenance perfectly.
Slowly, they walked down the stairs, with a perfect appearance of composure, though Charlotte’s eyes darted about the space, looking for any sign of Gerard.
