Page 5

He continued holding her hand, and Heaven help her, she couldn’t move. It was as if the duke was waiting to see if she would pull away. Instead, she allowed it, and her cheeks burned while she tried to behave as if he had no effect upon her.

‘I have not decided about your offer,’ he told her.

Was she imagining it, or was there a hint of interest in his voice? And why was he still holding her hand? It was completely inappropriate.

But then again, everything about this journey had been inappropriate.

‘Take your time.’ She added, ‘If you wish, you may pay a call upon me at our family’s residence in London.’

Then she squeezed his hand gently before she pulled hers away. With a warm smile, she added, ‘I do love your garden. There are so many possibilities for what it could become.’

The duke said nothing. But in her mind, she was already starting to imagine the sort of marriage there could be between them.

If he only said yes.

It was nearly dark by the time Charlotte arrived home. Although she tried to pretend that her journey had meant nothing, she still flushed at the memory of the duke.

Why had she dared to ask him about marriage? It had been a rash decision, and she’d fully expected him to refuse—even though she had been delighted by the ruined garden waiting to be restored.

But he hadn’t said no yet. Which could mean he was indeed considering her offer. His hand had been warm when he’d held her palm. Consummating a marriage with a man like the duke might not be as embarrassing as she’d imagined. Her mother had barely told her anything, but she was starting to wonder what else happened between a man and a woman on their wedding night. Her body had tensed, nearly aching at the slightest touch of his hand.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been a devastatingly handsome, brooding man. Something about the duke had drawn her closer, almost like a wounded animal she wanted to tend.

Charlotte pushed the memory away, forcing herself not to think about the duke. She needed to remember his garden instead. She had never seen such a vast canvas, waiting to be painted with colourful blossoms. A yearning had filled her at the thought of making it hers. The manor house itself was in disrepair, and from the look of it, His Grace was struggling to repair the damage done by his father’s debts.

But the garden held endless promise. She did not think any other man in London could offer her such a place.

A knock sounded at her door, and she called out, ‘Come in.’

Her mother glanced at her with surprise. ‘Charlotte, why aren’t you dressed for the musicale?’

Because I was busy meeting the Duke of Severn, she thought. And proposing marriage to him.

But of course, she could never confess that to her mother.

‘I was gone most of the day paying calls,’ Charlotte answered. It was a half-truth, and she’d paid the servants to remain silent.

‘Hurry and get dressed,’ her mother insisted. ‘Your father and I would like you to speak with the Marquess of Ravenwood this evening. He is likely the strongest candidate to be your husband.’

She supposed she did need an alternative to His Grace, although the thought was disappointing.

‘All right,’ Charlotte agreed. She held up her arms as her maid Moreen helped her don a rose-coloured gown. Her mother held out a pearl necklace with diamonds, fastening it around her throat.

Moreen helped with her hair, and then Charlotte ventured, ‘Have you…ever met the Duke of Severn?’

Her mother’s expression grew veiled. ‘No, but your father has. Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, I… I overheard some gossip that he might be seeking a bride this year. It’s nothing, really.’

The lies poured from her far too easily. Thankfully, her mother didn’t seem to notice. ‘Well, if he does come to London, I can ask your father to secure an introduction. It might be difficult, however.’

Charlotte said nothing while her maid finished helping her with her gown. But inwardly, she wondered what His Grace thought of her. What had he thought of her offer? Would he travel to London and pay a call upon her father with the marriage rules he’d drawn up?

Or was it nothing but an idle daydream that would never happen?

Chapter Two

Rule 2: You may entertain guests, but I will not attend balls or social frivolities.