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He inclined his head. ‘Thank you.’

Her father gestured for them to join him at the chairs by the hearth, but Charlotte ignored the silent command and instead led the duke towards the opposite side of the room. It was quite clear that her parents believed they ought to be part of the conversation, but she stopped and stared at her father in a silent warning. To his credit, he ushered his wife into a chair, and the two of them remained as chaperones.

‘How are you, Your Grace?’ she asked quietly.

He sat across from her and steepled his hands. ‘Well enough.’ With a glance towards her father, he asked, ‘Does he know?’

‘Not yet.’ But she was grateful that both parents had obeyed her unspoken request and had remained on the opposite side of the room, allowing them time to speak alone—even if they did seem uneasy about her forward behaviour. They were too accustomed to making decisions on her behalf. But she wanted to speak to the duke in private about their rules of marriage.

Charlotte gestured for him to sit with her by the window and rested her gloved hands in her lap. ‘Did you bring your rules?’

‘I did.’ His grey eyes narrowed. ‘Did you?’

She withdrew a folded paper from her sleeve and passed it to him. In turn, he removed his list from a waistcoat pocket and gave it to her.

From the corner of her eye, she could tell that her father appeared completely perplexed by what was happening. He had clearly meant to guide the conversation, but she had ensured that he would not be part of it.

Charlotte read through the list of rules, noting the duke’s clean, concise handwriting. His rules were exactly as she’d expected—things he’d mentioned earlier, such as allowing him to govern the estate, make decisions regarding renovations, and not wanting public displays of affection. She had no issue with any of them, particularly since he knew which repairs were necessary at Severn, but she did ask about one rule. ‘When you say that you do not wish me to redecorate rooms without your approval, do you only mean the furnishings and art?’

‘The rooms should stay exactly as they are,’ he answered.

‘Is there a reason?’ She wondered if he would mind if she added flowers to the rooms. The duke gave a nod but said nothing else. In his expression, she saw a hint of something like…grief.

And so she didn’t ask.

‘What about my rules?’ she asked. ‘Are you in agreement?’

He shrugged. ‘I have no issue with your desire to have the freedom to make your own decisions about the garden. Do as you wish, as long as we can concentrate a larger portion of your dowry upon necessary repairs to Severn.’

A sudden rush of relief filled her, that he was truly speaking of marriage now. And Charlotte openly smiled at him.

He didn’t return it but added, ‘As you saw, the roof is leaking. And it must be fixed first.’

She nodded. ‘Of course, that repair must take precedence. But my desire for tulip bulbs and shrubbery will not be a large expense.’

‘What of your wardrobe?’ he asked. ‘As a duchess, you will be required to attend social functions in my stead.’

‘So you don’t have to,’ she guessed. ‘Rule 2.’

‘Precisely. Will you need funds to accomplish this?’

She shook her hand. ‘No, it’s all right. I have everything I need, and my wardrobe is already sufficient. And, of course, my grandmother left me a goodly sum of my own, should I need to purchase additional gowns.’ After a pause, she added, ‘That is, if I may continue to use the inheritance for my own expenses?’

‘As long as your dowry is enough for the repairs, I have no concerns.’

Charlotte nodded in relief. ‘That’s good.’ She still intended to use the funds for her garden, however.

He studied her closely and a slight flutter caught her stomach as he reached for her hand. ‘I think we can come to an agreement, then. I will speak with your father to discuss your dowry, and we can begin reading the banns on Sunday.’

‘Very well.’ She held out her hand, and he took it, squeezing her palm as if to confirm their betrothal agreement. Once again, she realised what a strong effect the duke had upon her. His hand was larger than hers, and it suddenly occurred to her that he truly overshadowed her in physical form. His broad shoulders and the way he filled out his coat suggested that he was a muscular man. And imagining him touching her body evoked another shiver of interest. What would it be like to know the duke more intimately?

Before she could think more on it, he released her hand. One of her cats approached and brushed up against the duke’s leg, demanding affection. When he ignored it, the animal hopped up on his lap and began purring.

‘Does this cat belong to you?’ he asked stiffly.

‘Yes, that is Basil.’ She reached out to take him, but Basil sank his claws into the duke’s trousers. ‘I’m so sorry. Basil, let go.’

The duke’s expression remained rigid, and as she tried to extricate the animal, his hands caught hers. ‘Just leave him be. If I ignore him, he will stop.’