“You’re back. Any thoughts on my list?”
He gave her the papers, and his mother’s eyes flicked over the alterations.
“You’ve… removed some prominent daughters. And added the Steele girl… and several others I don’t recall mentioning. Not to mention more of your gentleman friends, I see. Are you trying to turn this into a farce?” As he’d expected, she looked less than pleased. Almost angry, in fact.
“I’m the host, am I not? I want a comfortable balance. These changes might help me feel less like an exhibit. It’s the matchmaking season; why not give others the chance to meet their betrotheds? It will be the house party of the season, Mother. And if more than one important match is made, people will be talking about it favorably for years.”
His mother appraised him with suspicion but couldn’t help the interest that flared in her eyes. Her lips twitched in delight. “Henry, are you actually involving yourself? Splendid. I’ll havemy secretary send the formal invitations. You’ll need to sign, of course.”
He nodded tersely. “I’ll write some personal notes too. They will please our more influential friends.”
“Excellent,” she said, patting his arm. “I’m so pleased you’re taking this seriously at last.”
He didn’t bother correcting her assumption, just retreated to his own chambers, where he instructed his butler to bring paper, ink, and wax. Sitting at a small writing desk near the window, Henry penned short, polite invitations to half a dozen eligible gentlemen he trusted; men who would join for the sporting and the dining—not for schemes to marry off their sisters.
Each letter was careful and concise:I’d be honored if you would join me at Arundel Park for a few days of country air, good food, and conversation.He sealed them, handed them over to the butler, and gave strict instructions. “Deliver these quietly and advise the recipients that I’d rather avoid further gossip until the official list goes out. These are my honored guests.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler said with a respectful bow.
When he was finally alone, Henry leaned back in the chair, his eyes drifting shut. Maybe this plan could work. With enough allies around, he wouldn’t be forced into any corners or compromises engineered by his mother and her cronies.
Tomorrow, the invitations would go out. He couldn’t change course now. All he could do was maintain control, keep his distance, and hope that by the end of it, he wouldn’t be worse off than he was already.
CHAPTER 10
Charlotte was perchedon the low stone bench behind the house, letting the gentle warmth of the afternoon sun ease her worries for a moment, when quick footsteps on the gravel interrupted her solitude.
A young maid arrived, a little breathless. “My lady, I beg your pardon, but His Grace, the Duke of Arundel is here asking for you.”
Charlotte stilled. She’d been tracing the outline of a fresh sprig of mint she’d plucked earlier. “The duke?” she echoed, surprised. “He isn’t here for William?”
“No, my lady. Shall I let him know you’re… not receiving visitors?”
Charlotte shook her head, carefully smoothing her skirts as she rose. “No, I’ll see him right away. Thank you.”
She left the little hideaway in the garden that had become her favorite spot, with its few rose bushes, neat gravel path, and the lone lilac that perfumed the air, and headed back inside. Her mind whirled as she wondered what on earth would bring Henry here unannounced.
In the foyer, she found him standing near the marble-topped table, absently running his gloved fingertips along its edge. Atthe sight of her, he straightened and offered a slight bow. Despite the tension around his rich brown eyes, he looked every bit the poised duke.
Not to mention devastatingly handsome.
“Your Grace,” she said softly, curtsying. “Is everything all right? William is not here, I’m afraid.” Perhaps her maid had gotten the message wrong.
“Yes, well, actually, I came to ask if you’d care to join me for a walk in Hyde Park. I, ah… need some fresh air.”
Her heart did a little leap in her chest “A walk? Certainly. Let me just fetch my pelisse.”
He exhaled as if relieved. “Thank you. I’ll wait here.”
Charlotte told a footman to let her mother know she’d be out briefly with the duke, then hurried upstairs to grab her walking shoes and a light pelisse. It was all so sudden, she half expected her mother to spring out, brimming with questions and insisting on being her chaperone, but apparently Lady Fitzgerald was occupied elsewhere. Charlotte returned in minutes, accompanied by her maid, who carried spare gloves and a bonnet.
“Shall we go?” Henry asked, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.
She offered a bright smile, trying to suppress the fizzing in her stomach. “Lead the way, Your Grace.”
Outside, his carriage stood ready. A footman helped Charlotte up, and her maid slipped in quietly, taking a seat to the side so as not to intrude, although she looked as bemused as Charlotte herself felt. Henry followed, closing the door behind him. The carriage pulled away from the curb with a low rumble and the trot of hooves.
He didn’t say much during the drive, and Charlotte let the silence linger, watching him from the corner of her eye. He seemed preoccupied, his gaze focused on the window and his posture stiff.
