Page 57 of In Need of a Duke
She never lost at whist.
He folded his spectacles, tucked them away, and stood up, holding the half-emptied tumbler of whisky in his hand. Fine Scottish whisky that Gabriel’s distillery was producing. While it had helped numb the pain of all the bee stings, it wasn’t quite enough. He needed a bath and a good night’s sleep.
“Your Grace,” Kate exclaimed as if surprised to catch him in his own library.
“I thought you had retired for the evening.”
His wife’s friend was a spitfire who had written to him once years ago, telling him what a grave mistake he was making. He hadn’t replied, instead leaving the next morning from London to travel to France.
Kate shrugged. “I forgot my book.”
He motioned for her to proceed. She grabbed the book and turned to leave, then froze.
“Your Grace?”
“Yes?”
“I feel you may need help with Charlotte.”
“Help, how?”
“You want to win her back, do you not?”
He didn’t pause. Sometime over the last month, he had become a man obsessed. “Yes, above everything, that’s what I want.”
“Then take her to London. Spoil her. Show her you wish to be with her. That is what she needs. She is desperate to be seen by you. Thebeau mondewas anything but kind to her while you were away.”
“And you trust I can prove this to her? I’m sure you have called me nearly every name in the book. You despise me. You did not hold back your opinions of my character in your last letter.”
“Two things may be true. I hate how you have treated her. I hated having to watch her become a shell of who she was while you paraded around the continent with actresses and opera singers.”
He clenched his fists. “I was faithful despite what theon-ditsshared.”
Kate shrugged. “I am not the one you should be trying to convince. Anyway, please excuse me. Good evening.”
“Good night, Mrs. MacInnes, and thank you for your advice.”
“Don’t waste it.” Kate pointed at him, her eyes narrowed, before she spun and left the room just as quickly as she had burst into it.
Ian stretched and then walked to his rooms, curious as to why lights flickered in his bathroom. He hadn’t asked anyone to draw a bath for him yet.
He stopped in the doorway, his chest tightening as Charlotte sat in his bathtub with her eyes closed and her hair pinned up, revealing the long line of her neck. She remained in the water with her chemise on, the wet fabric hiding little of her soft curves.
Ian’s mouth was suddenly dry.
“Come in, husband.”
Her voice cracked, not out of nerves though. When she gazed at him, her eyes were rimmed with red and swollen.
She had been crying.
Damn it.
He hated it when she cried.
“I don’t mean to impose. I thought…” he cleared his throat. “I thought I would take a bath, but I see you beat me to it. Wait,” he looked around at the candles flickering around the tiled room. “Why are you in here? You have a washroom attached to your bedchamber.”
Charlotte wiped at her eyes and forced out a lifeless laugh. “I’ve come to seduce you if you can believe it.”
