He may trifle with any woman of his choosing, but he would not marry one. Charlotte expelled a shaky breath as she shut the door to her room and leaned against it. First Sebastian and then Marcella—and of course the knowledge of what the Duke did. If this came out, she would never recover. Her reputation would be ruined, and she didn’t have a dowry large enough to pay recompense.
“Charlotte?” her mother called, tapping on the door. “Might I have a word?” Charlotte sighed. Here came her consequences, and she hadn’t even had time to come to terms with the sharpness of her words—or time, even, to feel sorry for what she had done.
“I’m sorry if I hurt Marcella’s feelings,” she said as she opened the door, “but she ought not to have spoken about the Duke in such a way. She cannot know his character.”
“And you can?”
“You do not know, Mama—no one can know.” She swallowed, stepping back until she reached the bed. She sat with a sigh. “He is not—he is not a nice man.”
“And how, my love, would you know that?”
At her mother’s gentle voice, Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears, and she brushed them away with an impatient movement. “At the Hexham Ball, I went into the garden to avoid—to escape… you must have noticed Sebastian’s behavior, Mama. He’s made it perfectly plain that he wants to court me.”
Anastasia perched on the bed beside Charlotte. “And you don’t want to marry him?”
“Good heavens, no!” Charlotte had, several times since the ball, attempted to imagine kissing Sebastian as she had kissed the Duke, and every time she tried, she recoiled. “If heweren’tlike my brother, but there’s still the fact my marriage to him wouldn’t solve our financial predicament.”
“He would have your dowry.”
“A pitiful amount,” Charlotte said, her shoulders caving. “It would, perhaps, patch a small hole, but we are too far gone for that.”
“Then you shall not marry Sebastian,” Anastasia said, taking her hand. “I had hoped for a greater match, anyway.”
“Greater than an Earl?” Charlotte sniffed. “I fear I shall have to settle for a far less well-endowed man, Mama.”
“Well, we shall see about that, but what about the Duke? What has he done to earn your wrath, Lottie?”
At her old pet name, Charlotte smiled, but the smile quickly faded when she thought back to the Duke—and their kiss. “In the garden, the Duke found me. He was inebriated and he… he kissed me, Mama. I don’t believe anyone saw, but—” She hunched her shoulders still further over. “There is no excuse for his behavior. He knew I was invited to the party even if he did not know my name, and he behaved like a—like a brute.”
Anastasia stilled, searching Charlotte’s eyes. “And no one knows anything of this?”
“It’s my greatest shame—I would not have told anyone for the world.”
“Then I hardly need tell you to keep this a secret. No one need find out if you do not tell anyone, and the Duke will not be cruel enough to tell anyone.” That had been Charlotte’s greatest fear. She’dbittenhim, for heaven’s sake, and sometimes in her quiet moments before sleep, she heard his oath, the anger in it, and wondered if such anger would compel him to tell someone of how she had behaved.
“You’re sure?” she asked.
Her mother smiled. “I’m positive.”
* * *
For two days, Aaron and his aunt searched the house and the streets and Constance’s every acquaintance. They even involved the Runners, charging them with finding Constance at any cost. The papers ran articles about the missing Duke’s sister, and great droves of friends and family turned out to help.
To no avail.
Aaron rolled onto his side and took a swig of wine from the canteen beside the bed. The room was small and smelled faintly of tobacco smoke although he was almost certain the lady beside him did not smoke. He wondered idly how many gentlemen had been in the place he now lay, replete and satisfied and craving a drink. Perhaps some of them had sat up on the bed and lit their pipe.
“You are awake already, Your Grace?” she murmured, running a small hand over his chest. “You look troubled.” Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was Constance’s scared face staring back at him. He was her brother, her protector, and he’d failed her.
“Nothing you can fix,” he said, glancing across at the lady whose bed he shared. She was less pretty in this light, and the patch on her right cheek had begun to peel off. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders in what would have been luxurious waves if her curls had held. As it was, it was more of a tangle, and her eyes were slightly red-rimmed.
“I need a distraction,” he said, trailing his fingers up her arm. “Would you be the lady to provide it for me?”
She giggled, no doubt thrilled to have a Duke in her bed. Perhaps he should have sought more high-class entertainment, but he hadn’t wanted to feel like a Duke, and this place reminded him of his younger, more carefree days. As she leaned forward to kiss him, he spotted a paper, freshly delivered, folded on the floor.
“Wait,” he said, easing her back. “Is that today’s paper?”
She pouted. “Can’t it wait?” The paper was fresh enough that his eager thumbs smudged the ink as he opened it to see if anyone had published anything about his sister. Instead, in the announcements, he saw something that made his blood run cold.
