Chapter 3

Three

C harlotte’s heart raced as she stepped into the gilded ballroom, her gloved hands tightening around the delicate fan she held. Soft candlelight bathed the room in a warm glow, dancing over the crowd of London’s elite draped in rich satins and silks. She scanned the gathering until her gaze settled upon a single, unmistakable figure across the room—Grant Tilbury, the Duke of Ravenscroft.

Even among the splendid crowd, he stood out, an untroubled rogue amidst the whirl of high society. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark, unruly hair framing a face of cool confidence, he held the attention of a circle of admirers hanging on his every word. Charlotte swallowed, feeling a tremor of both dread and resolve. She was here for her family, for her father’s honor. No amount of trepidation would deter her.

“Are you sure about this?” Arabella asked, worry in her gaze.

“He is only a man,” Charlotte said, her voice low. “Thank you for your help.” She looked up. “And for the gown.”

“You are welcome,” Arabella said.

Charlotte glanced across the room. “Please excuse me.”

Arabella captured her hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “Do be careful.”

“I will.”

Charlotte drew herself up, her delicate chin tilting ever so slightly as she approached the duke. The gentle shimmer of the pearls adorning her borrowed gown seemed to mirror the steel beneath her graceful facade. The Duke had wronged her family, reduced them to ruins; yet she would meet him not as a trembling wallflower, but as Lady Charlotte Ashbourne, daughter of the Viscount of Chatsworth.

She wove her way through the clusters of finely dressed guests, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on him. Finally, she reached the edge of his group. At that moment, he turned, his steely grey eyes meeting hers, an eyebrow lifting as though acknowledging her boldness. Charlotte felt a surge of nerves but refused to let them show. She straightened her shoulders and gave him a curt nod.

In that instant, Grant’s gaze sharpened with interest. He dismissed the group around him with an effortless charm, excusing himself before making his way over to her, a slow, almost predatory smile curving his lips. Charlotte’s heartbeat quickened, though she forced herself to remain composed.

“Lady Charlotte,” he greeted her, his voice smooth and rich. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Charlotte inclined her head. “Your Grace, I wonder if I might have a word?”

His mouth lifted at one corner, an eyebrow arching in mild surprise. “A word? How intriguing.” He offered his arm, inclining his head toward the ballroom floor. “Perhaps we might take our conversation into a dance?” No count the scandalous wallflower and reclusive duke would be on everyones tongue come morning, but Charlotte could scarcely afford to worry over it.

Charlotte hesitated, though she realised it would be unwise to refuse. Without a word, she placed her gloved hand in his, feeling a strange thrill at the contact. As they moved onto the dance floor, Charlotte’s breath quickened, though she tried to appear unfazed by his proximity. The moment they took their positions, the murmurs around them became a low hum of interest, the crowd turning to watch as they began to dance.

“You are quite the mystery tonight, Lady Charlotte,” he remarked, guiding her effortlessly into the steps of the waltz. His hand rested lightly on her waist, his touch both commanding and unsettlingly gentle. “I daresay, you scarcely resemble yourself. What have you done to your hair? And that gown?” His gaze trailed lower to where her breasts swelled against the low-cut décolletage of her gown. “It is not at all like you to stand out in a crowd.”

She kept her gaze level, refusing to falter. “I did not come here to offer entertainment, Your Grace.”

A glint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “No? Then I am left to wonder what has brought you here, braving the rumour-filled waters of the ton to seek me out.”

Charlotte took a steadying breath, steeling herself. “I believe, Your Grace, that you are well aware of the consequences of your actions on my family.”

Grant’s gaze narrowed slightly, though his expression remained one of detached interest. “Ah, so this is about your father’s poor choices. Yes, I am aware of your family’s… difficulties.”

Charlotte’s spine stiffened at his casual acknowledgment of her family’s ruin. “Difficulties?” she repeated coldly. “It was you who called in the debt that destroyed us.”

“Not destroyed, surely.” Grant’s voice softened, taking on a dangerous edge. “It is only business, my lady. Such transactions are commonplace among gentlemen. Perhaps your father was… unwise in his decisions.”

Charlotte’s jaw clenched, her anger momentarily breaking through her careful composure. “How fortunate you are to be a man who speaks so casually of such matters. You seem to forget the lives affected by these… transactions.”

His gaze held hers, unflinching. “I assure you, Lady Charlotte, I forget nothing.”

They twirled across the floor in silence, the tension between them simmering like an untamed flame. As they moved through the dance, he leaned closer, his tone dropping to a near whisper. “Forgive my presumption, but you hardly seem the sort to confront me on behalf of your father’s honor. What exactly do you wish of me?”

Charlotte met his gaze unflinchingly. “I wish for my family’s honor and name to be restored. I would see the Ashbourne estate returned to what it was before… before you.”

His mouth quirked, as though suppressing a smile. “Quite the request, my lady.”

“I am merely asking for what was stolen,” she replied, her voice laced with an edge of indignation.

“I hardly forced the viscount to incur such debts. I assure you he was quite willing.” Grant’s cool gaze appraised her intently. After a moment, he smiled, an expression that was equal parts curiosity and amusement. “All the same, I will propose a counteroffer. It so happens I am in need of some… amusement this holiday season. You will spend the season with me, providing me with the pleasure of your company. You will come to stay at my home from tomorrow through twelfth night. Discreetly of course so as not to further damage your reputation.”

Her eyes widened, and though she felt her heart quicken with both anger and apprehension, she forced herself to appear indifferent. “In exchange for what, exactly?”

“In exchange, my dear, I will forgive a portion of your family’s debt. Enough to alleviate a piece of the burden you so abhor.”

“I will not share your bed,” she said, cheeks flushing.

“A pity,” he smirked, “Though I was only suggesting companionship. I find myself in need of a distraction and believe you capable of providing it.”

The offer hung between them like a double-edged sword, both tempting and dangerous. Charlotte studied him, her mind racing. This could be the opening she needed. If she could charm him, make him desire her, perhaps she could bend him to her will. She would be giving him exactly what he asked for while concealing her own intention to avenge her family.

Finally, she allowed herself a small, controlled smile. “Your proposition is… unconventional, to say the least, Your Grace.”

He tilted his head, his gaze filled with challenge. “But agreeable?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, lifting her chin with quiet defiance. “But I shall need time to consider.”

He studied her for a moment, the briefest glint of intrigue crossing his features before he inclined his head. “Of course, my lady. Take all the time you need, so long as you arrive before luncheon tomorrow.”

She peered at him as the music swelled, and they continued to dance in silence, the weight of his offer pressing upon her. She could feel his gaze, like a tangible heat, studying her with a strange intensity, and yet she refused to falter under it.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke. “I accept your offer, Your Grace. I shall spend the Hollidays with you. But I hope you do not think me a fool, easily led into submission.”

Grant’s lips curved into a sly smile, a look of triumph flickering in his eyes. “Oh, I assure you, Lady Charlotte, I think nothing of the sort. In fact, I look forward to the… challenge.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, one that she barely managed to suppress. She would need to keep her wits about her to remain immune to his dangerous charm. “I will be accompanied by a chaperone.”

“There is no need.” He pulled her closer. “I have no wish to ruin you. Should anyone discover you beneath my roof, they will do so with the knowledge that the dowager duchess is your chaperone.”

As the dance ended, he released her, bowing with practiced elegance. Charlotte returned the gesture, lowering herself into a graceful curtsy, her head held high. She met his gaze one last time, her mind buzzing with both dread and the thrill of her first step in a very perilous game.

“Until our next encounter, Your Grace,” she said, her voice a blend of politeness and challenge.

“Indeed, my lady,” he replied, his tone unreadable.

As she turned and walked away, she could feel his gaze upon her, a weight that followed her even as she left the ballroom and stepped into the quieter corridor. She leaned against the cool marble wall, closing her eyes for a moment as she tried to still the rush of emotions roiling within her. She had done it; the first step of her plan had been set. But somehow, the victory felt hollow, clouded by the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

“Good heaven’s,” she murmured softly to herself, “what have I gotten myself into?”

A voice echoed down the corridor. “Charlotte?”

Her eyes flew open, and she found herself face-to-face with Mother. Her expression was one of mild concern, though there was something more, something almost curious, in her gaze.

“Mother,” she managed, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. “I thought you had remained in the ballroom.”

“I saw your swift exit and was compelled to ensure all was well,” she said, her voice low, her gaze lingering on her as though seeing through every facade she wore.

She drew herself up, determined not to let her see any hint of the nervousness that fluttered within her. “Perfectly well, I assure you. I only needed a moment to… gather herself.”

Mother raised an eyebrow, her gaze never leaving Charlotte’s face. “What happened?”

Arabella came to stand beside Mother. “I should like to know as well.”

“Ravenscroft wishes for my company. I am to spend the Hollidays with him in exchange for a portion of our funds back,” she replied, her tone deliberately cool. “Simply weighing the best way to proceed.”

Mother took a step closer. “Surely you refused.”

Charlotte met her gaze with renewed defiance. “I accepted.”

Mother inhaled a sharp breath.

“You will be ruined,” Arabella said, worry creasing her brow.

Charlotte stiffened her spine. “The dowager duchess will be in residence, and my visit will be discreet. People have rarely paid attention to me and they shall not start now.”

“I forbid it,” Mother said.

Charlotte rested her hand on Mother’s arm. “Think of Henry. Think of all we have lost. You cannot forbid it because we need the funds. I promise I will be fine and I will return to you exactly as I am now.”

Mother’s shoulders slumped, the fight leaving her. “I worry for you, my darling.”

“I love you for it, Mother.” Charlotte patted her arm. “But save for the three of us, no one else will know of my whereabouts and we shall not speak of it.”

“ Certainly not.”Arabella gave a nod of agreement. She turned to Lady Chatsworth. “We must trust Charlotte in this.”

Mother nodded. “I find myself wary. Let us return home now.”

“As you wish, Mother.” Charlotte meet Arabella’s gaze. “Please give our excuses and convey our gratitude to your parents.”

“I will,” Arabella said. She offered a smile, then turned and went back to the ballroom.

As Charlotte stepped out into the chill of the evening, she felt the weight of her choice settle heavily upon her. The Duke was as cunning as she had expected, but there was something in him she had not anticipated—a charm as insidious as it was captivating.

And as she descended the steps to her waiting carriage, she knew that this was only the beginning of her journey, a game of revenge that would demand her every ounce of resolve.