Page 49

Within half an hour, he had summoned their carriage and brought her back to his London townhouse. Charlotte had said very little during the drive but simply stared outside the window. He guessed that she was disappointed at having to leave early and feeling unwell.

Once they were back inside the house, he led her towards the stairs. ‘Do you want anything?’ he asked. ‘Tea or…something else?’ He didn’t know what to offer her, but he wanted her to feel better.

‘I’ll just go to sleep early,’ she answered. ‘Truly, you needn’t trouble yourself.’

But he sensed that leaving her alone was the last thing he should do. Instead, he tried to think of what she might want.

Guilt caught him, for he still didn’t even know how she took her tea. He’d never really paid attention to something so small. But she had—and she knew exactly what he liked.

He quietly ordered tea and biscuits to be sent up to her bedchamber. Charlotte climbed the stairs with him behind her, but she paused on the landing a moment, as if she were unsteady, and he immediately took her arm.

He escorted her to her room and saw that the servants had already lit a fire in the hearth.

‘I’m fine, really, Alaric,’ she said. ‘You can just leave me.’

‘No. That’s not something I’m going to do.’

Charlotte wanted her husband to leave so she could curl up in a ball and sob. It made no sense at all. She shouldn’t care about the past. He was married to her now.

His second choice.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she turned away from him so he wouldn’t see. She hadn’t asked him about Lenora because she didn’t want to know the answers. She didn’t want to hear about how he had once loved someone else and had asked her to marry him and been rejected.

Charlotte heard him moving within the room, doing something, but she kept her hand on the bedpost and didn’t look up. At last, he said softly, ‘Come here.’

She didn’t want to move. ‘I’m tired.’

‘I know. But I want to help you.’

She walked towards him, keeping her face lowered to hide her emotions. But then he turned her around and she felt his hands upon the buttons of her gown. Slowly, he began undressing her.

Anguish clenched inside her for she didn’t want to lie with him tonight. She didn’t want to experience pleasure at Alaric’s hands, knowing that he’d once wanted someone else. But this was her duty, wasn’t it? She was his wife and was expected to bear him a son.

Her courses had come and gone, so she wasn’t pregnant yet. She told herself that if she did have a child, it might take away the loneliness inside her.

The duke removed her gown and started working on the laces of her stays. One by one, he loosened them, and she took a deep breath.

It will be all right, she told herself. Maybe lovemaking would help her forget what she’d seen tonight—Lenora’s pain and Alaric’s determination to make the best of his situation.

He helped her remove her petticoats until she stood in her undergarments. Then he pulled the pins from her hair until it flowed over her shoulders.

At last, he removed the remaining layers and she was naked. But to her surprise, instead of touching her, Alaric pulled a nightgown over her head. It was warm from where he’d set it beside the hearth.

Did he…not want her? Was that it?

The tears did spill from her eyes then, and he guided her to the bed, pulling back the coverlet. ‘Rest, Charlotte.’

She obeyed and got under the covers, crying silently as she waited for him to leave. She could have endured it if he’d left her alone. But his kindness simply undid her.

After the door closed and he was gone, she wept into the pillow, not even fully understanding why she was crying. It was simply an overflow of emotions.

You care about him.

She knew better. They had made their rules and had agreed not to have feelings for one another. If he’d had his heart broken before, it made perfect sense why he would not love her.

Why then, was it so hard for her to remain indifferent to him? She’d grown up with parents who’d preferred to spend their time apart from their children. It was the same situation—only with a husband. She ought to be used to it.

Instead, there was a restlessness growing within her.