“Your grandmother is a formidable woman. I do not think I have ever seen grown men and women so frightened. I understand why the ton say they would rather deal with an angry badger.” Charlotte shook her head.
“She was the one who discovered it actually. My fear, I mean. It is why she sends me a sewing kit every year for my birthday.” Dominic winced at the memory. “She gifts me other things as well, but she always includes a sewing kit. And frequently, she hides it in the other gifts. I have taken to wearing gloves to open anything I receive from her.”
“Now that is something I have to see!” Charlotte said and then blushed. “Though I imagine it is unlikely we will be in each other’s lives at that point.”
Dominic felt an odd pang in his chest but pushed it away. “Perhaps I shall send you a painting of it as a parting gift.”
“It would certainly make parting all the more sweet,” Charlotte agreed.
“Then it shall be done. Now let us get back to these letters. Are you ready to get sickeningly romantic?” Dominic asked.
“Of course, I am, Sweetkins.” Charlotte replied.
And even though Dominic groaned at the nickname, he found that despite himself, he was having a rather pleasant time.
Chapter Twelve
WORDS ARE ALL I HAVE
“What about, ‘How could I not weep when I think of all the days between now and our next meeting? For days might as well be years, nay, centuries. Please, most dear and wonderful Plumkin —’” Dominic was saying, but Charlotte cut him off.
“You cannot combine our nicknames,” she pointed out.
They had been writing letters to each other for more than an hour, and to her immense surprise, she found that she was quite enjoying the experience.I suppose the tea and sandwiches helped.
She had always struggled to eat at formal dinners where there were many people and had grown used to being hungry after such events. There was something overwhelming about the noise, and she always felt self-conscious as she ate.
She had been surprised that the Duke had noticed and even more taken aback by the fact that he had wanted to do something about it.
It is mostly for his own benefit, after all, he is the one who said he likes to have snacks when he writes.
“Very well, ‘most dear and wonderful, Precious Plum — send me a gift. Let me know you love me, by sending me’…” Dominic looked at her, a lecherous glint in his gaze, and Charlotte narrowed her own eyes suspiciously at him.
“Send you what exactly?” Charlotte asked.
“Your kni—” Dominic began, stopping midway through his sentence as Charlotte swatted him. “Ow.”
“Be serious.” She glared at him, feeling her cheeks practically radiating with heat. “If you ask me for… well, what you suggested, it will not end well for you.”
“Fine, send me a glove,” Dominic suggested, scratching out a line in his letter and adding in another.
“A glove?” Charlotte canted her head towards him, confused.
Is this some trick? Is he going to make another lewd remark?Charlotte was still trying to puzzle at the answer when the Duke said, “Yes. So, I might hold it and pretend I am holding your hand.”
Her cheeks coloured even more, and she looked away, surprised at the sweetness of his words. “You really are rather sentimental.”
For some reason, the image of Dominic walking through his estate, holding one of her gloves, sent a rush of warmth through her chest. She shook her head, refusing to allow her thoughts to go any further down that dangerous path.
“You are the one who insisted I was; I am simply trying to play the part convincingly. I except you to be just as soppy in return.” Dominic pointed his quill at her.
“Ah, but you see, I did not say that I was so inclined,” Charlotte replied, batting her eyelids in an affectation of innocence.
“You are a woman. People expect such things of you,” he retorted.
“People expect such things of women, not necessarily me.” She shrugged.
“Are you not a woman?” Dominic looked her up and down. “I must say that would be rather a surprise.”
