Page 35 of In Need of a Duke
He looked out of sorts.
And the way he looked at her now was altogether puzzling.
He had chased her on horseback, furiously calling out her name.
She had been terrified as he chased her down, not knowing what would happen next. She pressed her horse to jump…
“Daisy?” she asked, though the way he shifted his weight was answer enough.
“She was lame.” He tilted his head, gazing at her with his normally dark, expressionless eyes, but they weren’t filled with fire, only sadness.
Deep sadness.
Charlotte was certain if she didn’t feel the way she did, her heart might break. But he had been responsible for breaking it some time ago.
“I loved that horse,” she said at last, closing her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte.”
She waited a beat, uncertain what to say. His apology didn’t wipe away his sins. She was running from him because if she remained, she was certain she would wither away. And yet, she didn’t blame him forthe accident. She had known there was a risk of jumping the wall. Nate had warned her against it as well. But between the chance of not making it or remaining with the duke, she had chosen to take her chances.
“Why are you still here?” she asked, she attempted to push up to her elbows, her body aching. Instead, a sharp, stabbing pain radiated up her side, and she winced.
The duke leaned forward and reached behind, adjusting her pillow. She froze, closing her eyes as a different pain throbbed in her chest.
That had been the closest he had been in years. Some twisted part of her wished to reach her hands back and run them along his shoulders and bury her head against his chest. To pull him close and feel a sliver of calm in a world that was upside down.
Instead, she allowed him to adjust her pillow without saying a word. She kept her distance. She learned it was best to never have hope where the duke was concerned.
“I’m not leaving, Lottie. Not now.”
Lottie.
He hadn’t called her that in years.
But not now? As in, if she hadn’t suffered from an accident, he would be leaving?
She was growing tired, her mind fuzzy once more. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry.
Charlotte shifted her hips over the mattress, attempting to move away from the duke. But it was difficult with her arm in a sling and her ribs bounded.
“You’ve abandoned me like everyone else in your life. Please, just let me go, Ian.”
He leaned over, sweeping back her hair from her eyes. One stolen touch. Another day it might have scorched her, might have made her curious, or left her wanting. But today, she cried.
“I know I’ve made a mistake. Several, in fact,” he said. “You don’t need to believe me when I say I’m staying. I will prove it to you. Every day.”
“You don’t wish to be married to me, and I wish for someone…”
She stopped herself. Her stomach soured at the very thought of pleading with her husband to love her. Plenty of marriages were successful without love. But at the very least, she wished their union to be tolerable and built on respect. Returning to demand an heir wouldn’t suddenly restore her faith in him.
It was difficult to remember the man she had agreed to marry when faced with the one staring at her now with such reckless hope and sadness.
He had written all those beautiful letters before their marriage vows. Had brought her gifts and taken walks with her. He had once wished to know who she was, not out of duty, but because he had claimed her clever and interesting when the rest of London thought her an indifferent wallflower.
She sniffed back her tears, too tired to wipe them away. She wouldn’t hide them any longer from him.
“Lottie,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought I lost you…”
