Page 17 of A Lady's Dangerous Secret
The Duke of Westcliffe appeared amused. “I see that your aunt has apprised you of the situation.”
“Indeed, but I think if we are each clear as to our goals, then we can have a suitable match.”
This time, he raised his eyebrows. “You’re quite unconventional.”
She smiled hesitantly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The Duke laughed, then said, “Yes, it’s most assuredly a compliment. I had the typical Society marriage with my wife, though I did respect and care for her. My daughters are in need of a stepmother, and I’m still in need of an heir. Selfishly, I want a partner I genuinely enjoy spending time with.” He paused to shift his body so that he faced her. “I think you would be the perfect match. May I have the honor of formally courting you?”
This request was exactly what Charlotte needed. Being a duchess would protect her from the gallows, and she had to sayyes. Yet, Charlotte felt a pang of emptiness in the pit of her stomach. Although she had always assumed she would never marry, in her dreams she thought that if someone ever did take notice of theforgotten fifth, it would be because of a grand love affair.
Instead, if she were being honest, she was chosen as the vessel for procreation. That pang of emptiness quickly grew into a deep ache as it fully dawned upon her that if she ever did marry, she would never have the love match she had seen in her maternal grandparents. Grandpapa spoke of her grandmother as if she were an angel who had descended to Earth. He would always leave her little surprises: a ribbon, a flower, a tart.
Charlotte dragged herself back to the present and gave the Duke a reassuring smile. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”
“Well then, I must call upon your father.”
“Oh no, that won’t be necessary. You can speak with my aunt.”
The Duke looked affronted. “I would think your father would be most pleased.”
“No, no, Your Grace.” Charlotte felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. She had just gained the courtship of the Duke…she could not lose it the next minute. “It has nothing to do with you. Of course, he’ll be thrilled. I know how busy you are, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to go out of your way to call on him.”
Charlotte could not let the Duke see how little regard her father had for her and cause His Grace to think that it reflected upon her character. She could not risk anything that would deter the Duke from their nuptials.
“It wouldn’t be a bother. I know your father from the House of the Lords. He’s an affable man.”
Charlotte forced a polite smile on her face. He was so affable that if there was ever a hint of discord, he quickly removed himself from the situation to ensure that affability remained. Her father never wanted to break the cocoon of pleasantness in which he resided.
At this opportune moment, Aunt Frances reentered the room, clearly listening to the conversation on the other side of the door. “Finally! It took some time to escort those gentlemen out of the house,” her aunt recounted. “Your Grace, did I hear you mention a formal courtship?”
“You did. I was just saying that I should call upon Pulverbatch.”
“Your Grace,” her aunt said sternly, “do you think I have not already asked for his permission? I greatly hoped you would court my dear niece, so I already discussed the matter with my brother. He was delighted.”
The Duke shook his head in disbelief. “You never cease to amaze me.”
Her aunt smiled as if this was the greatest compliment ever bestowed upon her. “You have known me too long, Westcliffe.You shouldn’t be surprised. We will see you tonight at the Sotherton Ball?”
“Yes, I’ll be attending for a short time, but then I must leave for another obligation.” With that, the Duke of Westcliffe stood, causing Charlotte to rise from the settee.
“We look forward to seeing you tonight,” her aunt responded enthusiastically.
“I look forward to seeing you as well,” Charlotte said.
The Duke took her hand and placed a kiss on it. He gave her an encouraging smile.
“Your Grace.” She watched him leave and told herself it was the right decision. Little did he know, he was the man who was going to unknowingly save her life.
Later that evening, Charlotte rushed down the stairs of her aunt’s London home to an awaiting town coach with the Hardwicke coat of arms emblazoned on the side. Aunt Frances would surely scold her for being late, even though she was delayed by the complex coiffure her aunt had demanded Bailey fashion. Now that Charlotte was officially being courted by a duke, Aunt Frances would not let anything jeopardize the chances of her niece becoming a duchess. From hair to slippers, Charlotte’s appearance had to be perfect.
Charlotte paused so the footman could open the door of the coach and saw a shadow move behind the equipage before disappearing into the darkness. She figured it was a gentleman who was also tardy for the evening’s events. Before she could ponder further, the door swung open, and the footman helped Charlotte inside. She sat opposite her aunt.
Then it began.
Her heart fluttered and her skin moistened with sweat. Her hands flew to her neck in an attempt to thwart the constriction in her throat. She tried to fight the demon that possessed her body, but she could not. Her panicked gaze flew from corner to corner of the coach like a cornered animal.
“Charlotte! Charlotte!”
