Page 90 of In Need of a Duke
He lifted his thick eyebrows as though he didn’t believe her, and she chuckled softly.
“Everything is very well, indeed. Thank you for inquiring. And you?”
“I’m pleased to hear it, but I miss you. I’m sad to learn you have reconciled with the duke.”
“I am surprised myself. Believe me.”
As they reached the confectioner’s door, a drop of rain kissed Charlotte’s cheek—a reminder of the storm just barely held at bay.
Monty’s gaze lingered on Charlotte as they stood momentarily apart from the others. The gray sky cast a shadow over his features, and for a fleeting moment, she caught a glimpse of the unguarded truth of his emotions.
“Oh, let’s hurry inside,” Mrs. Vessey said, ushering everyone inside.
Monty hung back. “I must run, but thank you for being an excellent companion this morning, Mrs. Vessey.”
“I’ll be only a moment,” Charlotte said, aware that everyone was watching.
“Goodbye, you charming man, you.” Mrs. Vessey gathered her skirts as the rain spat from the sky. “I will stall the others, Your Grace. Take your time.”
She disappeared inside, leaving Monty and Charlotte pressed up against the brick build as the storm clouds thickened. Charlotte shivered as the air changed and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
“Hurry inside then. No point in you catching a cold. Well…”
Charlotte dropped her hand from the door. “Yes?”
“Have you talked to Nate since you’ve returned to London? He seems hellbent on destroying himself lately, more so than usual. I know we rakes have our reputations to uphold, but I am… concerned. Will you pass on my concern to His Grace?”
She nodded, rubbing away the ache that suddenly settled in her chest. She had asked him to be wise in London, and though she hadn’t read any gossip about him, she was worried now.
With a final, lingering look Monty stepped back, allowing the space between them to grow once more. “Take care, Charlotte.”
CHAPTER 25
It was nearly perfect.
London. Charlotte.
Together.
Two weeks since the ball had passed, and since then, the days blurred. They hadn’t been apart.
Ian sat on the edge of the bed, his feet resting against the soft rug of his bedroom, and raked his hands through Charlotte’s long, blonde hair as she rocked her hips over him. Her breasts brushed against his chest, her touch urging him on as he bent down nipped at her earlobe, nearly growling at how amazing she felt seated on top of him.
Two blissful weeks, reconnecting and exploring one another. His mind had almost calmed. He trusted her, and he no longer wished to blame her. The truth was, he had only himself to blame. And that had been much more difficult to accept.
Because Ian realized he had been right that night years ago. Walking across that crowded ballroom, claiming that first dance, and never letting go. Charlotte was a rare gift. She was the most beautiful thing in his life, and he couldn’t stand to think of hurting her any longer. And now, the desire that had built between them for weeks had finally boiled over. Now, they spent their days making love acrossLondon, and in their carriage, or in their home, and he didn’t wish for it to end.
A knock came at the bedroom door. Charlotte stilled, pressing her hands into his shoulders, and kissing his temple.
Damn it.
“Not now,” he snapped through gritted teeth. He bucked his hips, eager to continue, driving a delicious gasp from his wife.
Charlotte rested her head on his shoulder and giggled when the knock sounded again.
“I don’t see why this is funny,” he grumbled, and she looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of promises.
“See what they need,” she urged, “so they can leave us be.”
