Chapter 9

Nine

“ M other,” Grant said, straightening instinctively. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

The Dowager’s sharp gaze took in the scene with a single sweep. “Clearly,” she replied, her voice carrying a note of amusement. “It seems you have been quite busy, my son. Pray explain yourself.”

Grant gestured toward Charlotte. “Allow me to introduce Lady Charlotte Ashbourne. Lady Charlotte, my mother, the Dowager Duchess of Ravenscroft.”

Charlotte managed a curtsy despite the measuring tape encircling her waist. “Your Grace, it is a pleasure.”

The Dowager’s steely gaze softened, just slightly. “The pleasure is mine, my dear.”

“Mother, I hoped to discuss something of importance regarding Lady Charlotte’s appearance at the Ravenscroft Christmas ball.”

“Oh?” the Dowager replied, her eyebrow arching.

Grant maintained a composed tone. “It would be beneficial if you were to sponsor Lady Charlotte. Your connections would lend her significant support as she reenters society.”

There was a charged pause as the Dowager considered this. Grant held his breath, aware of Charlotte’s wide-eyed gaze darting between them.

Finally, the Dowager nodded. “And you believe her to be deserving of such an endeavor, Grant?”

“I do,” he said, his voice unexpectedly firm. “Lady Charlotte’s circumstances are no fault of her own. Her father alone is responsible for their financial woes. With our support, I believe she has a chance at securing an excellent match.”

The Dowager’s discerning eyes settled on Charlotte, who stood frozen under her scrutiny. “Very well,” she said at last. “I shall be pleased to lend my support to you, Lady Charlotte. I assume your presence here is a guarded secret. If anyone where to discover…” She pinned Grant with her gaze. “Well, needless to say the regency himself would not be able to salvage your reputation.”

“That is precisely why you will remain in residence, Mother.”

The dowager gave a firm nod.

Relief washed over Grant, though he remained impassive. “Thank you, Mother. Your support is invaluable.”

Grant’s gaze returned to Charlotte. The gratitude in her eyes stirred something in him—a need to protect her, to ensure she succeeded.

What are you doing, Ravenscroft? he thought, trying to dismiss the burgeoning feelings. This arrangement was meant to be practical, a means of amusement. Temporary. He could not afford to become entangled.

But even as he told himself this, Grant knew it was already too late.

The Dowager Duchess approached Charlotte with an elegance that belied her years, her eyes warm as she took Charlotte’s hands in her own. “My dear,” she said with gentle sincerity, “please, call me Margret. We shall be spending quite a bit of time together, after all.”

“I could not possibly.” Charlotte’s cheeks flushed, a mixture of gratitude and surprise coloring her expression. “Thank you, Your Grace. I am truly honored by your kindness.”

“Nonsense,” the dowager waved a dismissive hand. “It is my pleasure to assist. Now, tell me, have you given thought to whom might suit you?”

As Charlotte engaged in conversation with the Dowager, Grant observed them from across the room. He couldn’t help but be captivated.

She’s quite beautiful when she smiles, he thought, and quickly pushed the notion aside, unsettled by how natural that thought had come.

Madame Lefevre’s delighted exclamation interrupted his musings. “Voilà! It is finished!” she announced, stepping back with a flourish to reveal Charlotte in her shimmering gold gown.

Grant’s breath caught, his heart skipping a beat. The gown’s delicate silk clung to Charlotte’s figure in a way that flattered every curve, while the color made her fair skin glow and her golden hair shimmer as if kissed by sunlight.

“Oh my,” Margret said, her eyes wide with admiration. “You look absolutely radiant, my dear.”

Grant found himself at a loss for words, his throat suddenly dry. “You look… stunning, Lady Charlotte,” he managed, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

Her gaze met his, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “Thank you, Your Grace. For… everything.”

A glimmer of something Charlotte had not felt in far to long wrapped around her—an excitement she hadn’t felt in years. She dared to hope that perhaps her family’s fortunes might truly change, that maybe happiness wasn’t so far out of reach after all.

When the fitting was finished and the dress maker took her leave, Grant cleared his throat, drawing Charlotte’s attention. “Lady Charlotte, might I have a word with you in private?” He gestured toward the adjoining study, his expression unreadable.

Charlotte’s heart fluttered as she nodded and followed him, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. When they entered the study, he closed the heavy oak door behind them, the sudden quiet pressing around them as they stood alone.

Grant faced her, his tall frame silhouetted by the window. “I hope you’ll forgive my boldness,” he began, his voice measured, “but there is another matter I wish to discuss.”

Charlotte’s brow furrowed. “Yes, Your Grace?”

He took a deep breath. “I have decided to offer you a dowry.”

The words seemed to echo in the room. Charlotte’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. “A… a dowry? But why would you?—?”

“To aid you further in securing a suitable match,” he explained, his grey eyes steady on her face. “I believe it will considerably improve your prospects. I assume you do not currently have one.”

Charlotte shook her head. It felt as if the ground beneath her had shifted. She gripped the back of a nearby chair for support, reeling from his unexpected generosity. “Your Grace, this is… it’s too much. I cannot possibly accept.”

Grant stepped closer, his expression softening. “It is the least I can do. You have endured great hardship, and I wish to see you happily settled. I can not afford to return all that I collected from your father, but I will provide twenty thousand pounds. It will be sufficient to attract a suitable gentleman, I assure you.”

Charlotte’s mind raced. Why was he being so kind?

“Surely you must want something in return,” she blurted, immediately regretting her words.

His brow rose, a flicker of something close to amusement flashing in his eyes. “Is it so hard to believe I might simply wish to help?”

Charlotte looked down, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “Forgive me; I didn’t mean to imply… But… Well, I did not come here of my own desire. You compelled me to do as you wished.”

“I understand,” he said gently. “You have had little reason to trust the goodwill of others lately. But I assure you, Lady Charlotte, my offer comes without strings attached. I merely wish to see you settled.”

She raised her gaze to meet his, searching for any hint of deception, but all she found was sincerity—and something else, something that made her heart unexpectedly quicken.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay such kindness,” she whispered.

Grant’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “Seeing you flourish will be repayment enough.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest, at odds with the guilt that gnawed at her. She had meant to ruin him, and he was showing her nothing but generosity. How could she reconcile this? Her gaze flickered over his broad shoulders, the soft wave of his dark hair, his stern features softened in the lamplight.

“Your Grace,” she began hesitantly, “I must confess, I am overwhelmed by your kindness. I fear I may not be worthy of it.”

He frowned, his tone gentle. “What makes you say that?”

Charlotte bit her lip, caught between truth and secrecy. “I… I’m not the person you think I am,” she admitted softly.

Grant’s gaze remained steady, his grey eyes searching her face with a rare tenderness. “I think, perhaps, you are far more than you believe yourself to be. I see a woman of strength and grace, despite everything she’s been through.”

His words, so unexpectedly kind, stirred something within her. A mixture of gratitude, confusion, and something dangerously close to attraction coalesced, and in an impulse, she leaned forward to place a light kiss on his cheek.

Just as her lips brushed his skin, he turned. In an instant, their lips met, a soft, accidental kiss that sent a jolt of warmth through her entire being.

Charlotte’s eyes widened, her breath catching. Grant’s lips were warm and surprisingly gentle against hers, and for a heartbeat, they both remained frozen in place. Everything else—the firelight, the silence—faded away, leaving only the sensation of this unexpected touch.

Grant’s hand twitched on the back of the settee, as though to reach for her, yet he remained still, his gaze unwavering. Charlotte felt the rapid beat of her own heart and wondered if he could feel it too in the charged silence of the room.

She pulled back, her cheeks aflame. “I… Your Grace, I did not mean to… that is, I only intended…”

Grant cleared his throat, his voice tinged with a hoarseness she hadn’t heard before. “There is no need for apologies, Lady Charlotte. It was… an accident.”

But the intensity in his gaze contradicted his casual words, and Charlotte felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature. The air between them thrummed with an energy she didn’t dare acknowledge, leaving her flustered, hands trembling as she smoothed her skirts.

“I should go,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Grant straightened, his frame towering as he stepped back. “Of course.”

As Charlotte made her way down the corridor, her mind was a tempest of conflicting thoughts—the lingering feel of his lips, the guilt that gnawed at her conscience, her own wavering resolve.

Charlotte could not shake the feeling that everything had changed. She pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to still the fluttering in her chest.

As she slipped into her room, she leaned against the door, trying to quell the turmoil roiling within her. Her plans for revenge seemed distant and hollow in light of this new, unexpected complication. She leaned her flushed cheek against the cool door, wondering how she would face him again, knowing the memory of their accidental kiss would hang between them like a whispered promise.