Page 20 of Tamed By a Duke
Charlotte, meanwhile, was torn between frustration at the duke having arranged another outing for them, without her expressed consent, and gratitude that he had distracted her from her old foe.
Was it possible that Penrith had instinctively understood Charlotte's discomfort, and had rescued her with a distraction? She found it difficult to marry the idea of the high-handed Duke of Penrith also being a knight in shining armour, so she dismissed her fanciful notion.
He simply liked giving orders, Charlotte decided, allowing herself to feel satisfactorily irritated by him—which was far preferable to feeling grateful.
The barouche soon turned back onto the streets of London and, within half an hour, Charlotte was clambering out of the carriage, assisted by Penrith.
"Thank you," she said primly, as they reached the top step of Ashfield House. For a moment, she worried that he might lift her gloved hand to his lips, but Helga's withering glare put a stop to any ideas of romance.
"Until we meet again," the duke said, bowing to both women, before turning on the heel of his gleaming Hessian to leave.
Charlotte and Helga were accosted the instant that they stepped into the entrance hall.
"Tell. Me. Everything."
"Hello Grandmama. How lovely to see you too. Yes, I am well, thank you for asking," Charlotte quipped sarcastically, as she tore off her gloves.
"We have no time for niceties," Lady Everleigh replied, with an impatient wave of her hand, "Bianca tells me that you went riding with the Duke of Penrith."
"And his sister," Charlotte clarified, lest she be accused of anything untoward, "On the Row."
"And?" Lady Everleigh prompted, her eyes—green like Charlotte's own—wide with expectation.
"And, nothing," Charlotte shrugged, "It was a perfectly pleasant experience."
Lady Everleigh let out a growl of frustration at her granddaughter's reticent reply. Her eyes narrowed and she switched her gaze from Charlotte to the lady's maid standing behind her.
"Helga," Lady Everleigh commanded, "You will tell me how it went."
Lud. Charlotte bit back a sigh of annoyance; her grandmother had never shown any interest in any of Charlotte's activities, yet here she was now, preparing to launch her own version of the Spanish Inquisition into her afternoon with a duke. Mayhap there was a torture rack waiting in the drawing room if Helga did not disclose enough information, Charlotte thought dourly. Was it not enough for her Grandmama to know that she had been out with Penrith, did she need to know the number of teeth in his head?
Before the maid had a chance to respond, Charlotte's father entered the fray, bringing with him a stench of cheroot smoke.
"What's all the fuss?" Brandon growled, "Can a man not get a moment's peace and quiet in his own home? I am attending to very important business in the library."
Along with the cheroot smoke, Charlotte detected the distinct smell of alcohol from her father's breath, which meant that he had been attending to a very important bottle of brandy, rather than business.
"Hush, Brandon. Helga was about to illuminate me as to how your daughter's outing with the Duke of Penrith went," Lady Everleigh replied, suitably dismissive of her son in law. To the countess, Brandon Drew had never been more than a nabob who had married above himself, and she was not afraid of letting him know how she felt.
Right now, Brandon was getting in the way of Lady Everleigh's meddling, and Charlotte did not think she was above having one of the footmen escort him from his own home if he continued.
"Eh, Charlotte has been stepping out with Penrith?" Brandon replied with surprise, before quickly quietening himself at Lady Everleigh's icy glare.
"Now," the countess continued, "Tell us, Helga, how it went."
Charlotte froze with fear as she realised that she had handed over the reins of her future to her cantankerous maid. She needed her father to think that everything was going swimmingly with Penrith, but Helga was sure to put a dour spin on things.
Oh, why was she so stubborn, she thought ruefully, as she waited for Helga to say her piece.
"It was dreadful," Helga pronounced, drawing herself up to her full height—which was not inconsiderable.
Charlotte's heart fell, as she watched her father and grandmother frown with annoyance. She could near see them thinking that stubborn, head-strong Charlotte had mucked things up again.
"There was sweet-talking," Helga continued, visibly affronted at the memory, "Whispering in each other's ears, talk of being 'smitten'. My lady, it was clear that His Grace would have tried to kiss Miss Drew's hand at the door had I not managed to prevent it."
Shocked silence filled the hall and Charlotte had to bite down on her knuckles to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter. Dear Helga, whose strict Protestant sensibilities had been so offended by Penrith, had actually gifted Charlotte a win with her complaints.
Her father could not say that Charlotte had not succeeded in securing the attentions of a duke, when Helga had described him as having been akin to a slobbering dog in Charlotte's presence.
