Page 21 of In Need of a Duke
He didn’t believe her.
Almost forty now, he had learned far too many times that everyone lied given enough time, and it hurt most coming from those one loved. Or thought, one loved anyhow.
Like his father for one.
“Let me in.” Though his pulse roared in his ears, his voice remained even. “Open the door, Charlotte.”
She shook her head, sliding her foot toward the bottom of the door to reinforce her weight.
His eye twitched.
“You have made it clear you don’t wish to see me, and it is late, I want to retire for the evening.”
“Inyourrooms.”
Charlotte tilted her head, her eyes first focused on his glare before briefly sinking down to study his mouth.
The resulting shock that buzzed through his body only enraged him more.
“Where I am standing now is my room. The Duke of Dandridge has always slept in this room for six generations. Never once did these quarters belong to the duchess. Never once has the duke been reduced to sleeping in a room designated for guests.”
“Then everything is right in the world once more. You have your room back.”
His hand gripped the elaborately carved doorway tighter. “I want our guests gone in the morning.”
His wife pulled her wrapper tighter, drawing his attention to her full, curvy figure. “I hardly think it fair to send them packing because you have decided to see if I was still here.”
“You never leave Stonehurst, Charlotte. You stay because you are my duchess. That is your duty. I knew you would be here.”
After all, she always did as expected, never wanting to upset anyone.
“This has gone on long enough. Aren’t you tired of hating me, Ian? I realize a divorce is difficult…”
“They are damn near impossible. But beyond that, I don’t wish to drag our marriage in front of my peers.”
“Too embarrassing?”
“Precisely.”
Her foot knocked against the door until she was reduced to asliver. He was about to push it open when it slammed shut and the lock clicked.
“Imagine how I have felt, then.” Her voice cracked, even as she had nearly whispered the words through the door.
“Charlotte. I didn’t return to speak to you through closed doors. Open up.”
Ian stood there for a few moments, waiting and quiet. But it was a wasted effort because he felt her leave, felt the annoying tug at his chest, as if he were about to have the hiccups. Instead of slamming his fist against the wall as he wished, he sighed and balled his hands, spinning around to sweep a glance around his room.
He had only slept here a handful of nights. After his father passed and Ian became duke, he spent most of his time in Mayfair.
With hungry strides, he approached the windows facing the vast park. Years of work had been done to create a natural landscape at Stonehurst. Upon his leaving, Charlotte had preserved the front of the home but put in more formal gardens in the rear, according to the letters from his steward.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the plants on the wide window sash.Herplants. He should toss them out or have someone take them to the conservatory where they belonged.
Ian listened for Charlotte, but she was quiet on the other side of the door. She must have gone to bed.
Inside each pot was a small tag, her flawless penmanship gracing each with their scientific Latin name.
He hadn’t received a letter from her in years. Once, their relationship had subsisted on them. But he supposed love letters were not meant to be shared between two people torn apart by the truth.
