Page 3 of Captured By the Cold Duke
When she snuck a discreet glance, she felt her whole body go numb.
“My ladies!” her cousin said when he saw Samantha and Minerva. Both ladies stiffened, and Cherie dropped her head even further. “I did not realize my cousin had visitors.”
“We were just leaving,” Samantha said, undisguised coldness in her voice.
Don’t antagonize him, Cherie thought wildly.Don’t draw attention to yourselves.
Cherie took a few steps back, imitating the way a maid might halt a bit further behind. Though in her case she melted into the shadowy alcove that framed one of her ancestor’s portraits.
“Ahh, yes, so was I,” Charles said. “I just forgot something, now I’m off back to my club.”
He smiled, but the look was strained and insincere.
“Oh, your club, is it?” Samantha began. “It isn’t a h?—”
“Have a good day, sir,” Minerva said, stomping on Samantha’s foot under her dress. Cherie only saw because her gaze was already downcast.
At least Minerva has more sense than passion!
“Ah, yes, have a good day yourselves, my ladies,” Cherie heard her cousin bumble. Then Minerva and Samantha were crossing the hall. Cherie followed behind them. She held her breath as she passed by her cousin. She felt dizzy and sick.There is no way this is going to work!
But her cousin didn’t so much as glance at her, and Cherie felt surges of both gratitude and anger at how easy it was to overlook women—especially poor ones.
Then the front door of the house was opening, and they were outside, hurrying down the steps, and then Minerva’s footman was opening her carriage door, until finally, Cherie was safely inside.
Minerva slammed the door shut behind her and leaned back in her seat, breathing deeply.
“That was close,” Cherie whispered, as the carriage began to trundle off.
“Now we just hope everything goes according to plan,” Minerva said.
And the first half of thatdid, miraculously, go according to plan.
The second half, Cherie reflected hours later as she stood nervously in front of a dilapidated inn, hadn’t gone nearly so well.
Two
“Could you take my bags to the Carleton Inn, old chap?” Thomas asked as he swung down from his horse.
“Of course, Your Grace!” his valet said, bobbing his head as he took the reins.
Your Grace.He kept forgetting he was now Thomas Casserly, Duke of Wheaton.
The journey from India to Dover had been long and exhausting, and he’d only just gotten off the boat a few hours ago. Even riding his horse to this inn had been difficult, as he still felt as if he were roiling on the sea, and he could barely keep his eyes open. He needed a bath, and sleep, badly.
Which is why he was sure he was hallucinating when he saw Lady Cherie Norton, sister of his best friend, the Duke of Vaston,standing in front of the entrance of Carleton Inn, dressed like a servant.
“Either I’m more exhausted than I thought, or you really should not be here,” Thomas said, staring down in disbelief at the lady in front of him.
Because any scenario where Lady Cherie was really here, at nine o’clock at night, in the cold and dark, and dressed like a maid, could not bode well.
However, the gasp that the lady gave, and the fear that filled her eyes at the same time, was too visceral to be a travel-weary hallucination.
“My lord!” Lady Cherie breathed. “What are you doing here?”
“Iwas looking forward to eating while on stable ground for the first time in eight weeks!” Thomas repeated, astonished by the absurdity of the question. “What areyoudoing here? Where is Aidan?”
“I’m—you must have me mistaken for someone else,” she said, rather lamely he thought.
