Page 65 of In Need of a Duke
“I see you are not going to address my concerns. Close our account. We will go elsewhere from now on.”
“Now, Your Grace…”
He was about to shut down her excuses until Charlotte violently squeezed his hand, stemming his words. She walked out in front of him, her shoulders high. It was as if she had become another person entirely.
His duchess.
“There is no need for an apology, Madame Gaillot. Good afternoon, ladies,” she said, addressing the others in her shop.
“Please, Your Grace,” the modiste pleaded, following on Charlotte’s heels. “Allow me to make up for our… misunderstanding.”
Charlotte paused, signaling with her hand for Ian to hold up. He remained, even as the gossip in the shop grew to a murmur.
“Is she so desperate to keep him now?”
“… there have been several lovers…”
“It’s a shame. They were a love match once upon a time…”
And all the while, Charlotte didn’t flinch.
“No, there was no misunderstanding. Good day, Madame Gaillot.”
Ian followed behind Charlotte, his fists clenched at his side. Hadshe endured this every time she went out in London? Had he subjected her to the wolves?
“Wait, Charlotte. Wait.”
She quickened her pace, weaving through the crowded street.
“Darling.”
The endearment stilled her, freezing her retreat.
When she spun, the sadness had disappeared, and only an icy distance remained. “Don’t call me that.”
“There are a lot of new rules when I’m addressing you since I’ve returned.”
She shrugged. “I am sorry I tore you from the bookstore. I will find another modiste, please carry on…”
“Is it always like that?” he asked instead, inching closer. “The gossip?”
Charlotte wiped at her face and glanced around, her shoulders still pushed back and barely clinging onto the brave front she hid behind at the modiste. “Worse, Ian,” she whispered. “But let’s not pretend you care.”
“I do,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I do care because you don’t deserve that.”
“You were fine with leaving me to deal with it though, weren’t you? But now you’re back for an heir and suddenly struck with a conscience. Convenient, is it not?”
He pressed his lips together, knowing nothing good could come if he allowed himself to speak at that moment. There they were in the middle of Bond Street, having just caused a scene at the modiste, and Charlotte…
“I apologize,” he said. “I’ve embarrassed you, and that wasn’t my intention. I only meant to…”
She clasped her hands together, waiting. Charlotte adored silence. He found he dreaded it the most with her.
“I will not tolerate others treating you poorly when you have done nothing to warrant such behavior.”
“And that’s for you to decide, is it, Your Grace?”
“You are so ready to push me away, but I am here, Lottie. And I’mnot going anywhere. I’ll stand here in the middle of Bond Street and scream it from the top of my lungs?—”
