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It was the first time she’d turned him down. He could sense their fragile marriage was on the verge of cracking apart. But he didn’t know what to do or say to bring back his wife’s happiness.

Alaric followed her as she opened the door and stepped outside onto the stone terrace. His townhouse had only a tiny garden, but she had already tended it. There was melting snow on the ground and mud everywhere. The sun was already setting, and it was freezing outside.

But Charlotte crossed her arms, studying the garden. A moment later, she gave a soft sigh and walked through the wet grass towards the edge of a tiny snow-covered plot.

There, he saw a brave purple crocus attempting to push its way through the snow. Charlotte leaned down and brushed it free, giving it space to bloom. She stopped to admire it a moment before she returned to him.

‘Alaric, you needn’t trouble yourself about me any more. As we agreed, we will live our lives independently. You may do as you please, and it doesn’t matter.’

Although her words sounded calm, a warning kindled within him that she wasn’t telling the truth. She was saying what she thought he wanted to hear.

But he didn’t know how else to answer except to say, ‘It’s cold. Let’s go back inside.’

He offered his arm, but she ignored it and walked alongside him. She shivered slightly but then seemed to gather her composure. ‘Perhaps I’ll travel to see my mother or visit my sister again while you’re here in London.’

Not without him, she wouldn’t. But if he told her that, she might think he was trying to control her. And perhaps the best way to win this battle was not to engage. There were other ways to protect his wife.

Instead, he walked with her towards the stairs and said softly, ‘Enjoy your ball tonight.’

Charlotte was beginning to regret her decision to stay in London. At the time, it had been a choice born of rebellion. She didn’t truly believe Alaric when he’d said there could be a threat against her. Thus far, she had seen nothing at all.

But her emotions seemed to be all over the place. One moment, she was fighting for her marriage, and the next, it felt like a losing battle, and that she should simply abandon the idea and live her own life instead.

The only problem was that Alaric didn’t seem to understand he was slowly breaking her heart. He’d made her want more. And even now, when he’d stolen a secret moment with her near the stairs, she’d wanted to succumb to his seduction and do all the wicked things he’d been tempting her with.

He doesn’t love you.

It became a mantra as she walked up the stairs. She didn’t truly want to attend the ball tonight, but now it felt as if she had no choice. She had met the Earl and Countess of Scarsdale a few months ago, and their marriage was exactly what she wanted—a loving marriage born from friendship.

When she reached her bedchamber, Moreen was waiting for her. ‘Your Grace, oh, you must come and see this!’

‘See what?’ She closed the door behind her and saw a large box on her bed.

‘It’s a new ballgown. It only arrived an hour ago.’ Her maid beamed and added, ‘I didn’t open it, but I cannot wait to see what His Grace ordered for you.’

‘The duke ordered this to be made?’ She couldn’t imagine how this had happened—especially when she was supposed to be at Severn by now.

‘He did, yes.’

Charlotte approached the large box and opened it, pushing aside the paper to reveal a gown made from the sunshine yellow fabric she’d admired on the day they had gone shopping together. She held up the gown, and it felt as if she’d lost her breath. The high-waisted silk gown was stunning, embroidered with golden thread and pearls. She’d never seen anything like it.

‘I cannot wear this tonight,’ she whispered. It was the gown of a hostess, not a guest. It would draw too much attention to her.

‘Oh, but you must. His Grace will want to see you in the gown.’

But he’s not attending the ball, Charlotte thought, her heart squeezing. Although she tried to feign delight, she was more worried about what the gown meant. Why had he given her such a gift?

Her maid withdrew the ballgown and set it upon the bed, smoothing it out. ‘At least try it on to see if it fits.’

She already knew her maid was attempting to coerce her into wearing it. But when she felt the yellow silk against her skin and saw the way it fit perfectly, it brought a wave of sadness flooding through her. Not because she didn’t love the gown, no. It was because Alaric wasn’t escorting her to the ball.

‘What do you think?’ Moreen asked.

‘It’s the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen,’ she answered honestly. After she studied herself in the looking glass, she made a decision. ‘I should go and thank His Grace for the ballgown.’

‘Oh, do let me finish your hair first,’ her maid begged.

With a sigh, Charlotte relented. She waited while Moreen used hot tongs and then gathered her hair up into an elaborate style, secured with pins, leaving several strands curled against her cheeks. After she was ready, she dismissed Moreen and went to knock on her husband’s door. When there was no reply, she gently opened the door to peer inside—but the room was dark and empty. He truly had left for the evening.