Chapter 3

Charlotte returned to Bradford House two days later with more nervous knots in her stomach than she feared she could cut through.

This was an awful idea. What was I thinking? I’m not cut out for London. I’m not cut out for any of this. No matter what I want, I will never be good enough for Society. I’ve got nothing fashionable, and I can’t even dance. It’s good a thing I don’t care for marriage because no one will look at me twice. I could never––

“You won’t be wearing purple every day, will you?”

She jumped in surprise. “Oh!” Turning around, she found Lady Theodosia peering out the front door as the other trunks were slowly but surely delivered into the grand house. “I… I beg your pardon?”

The woman tutted. “Don’t bother, because I don’t care to give it all the time. Purple, my dear. It’s not your best color. I’m afraid you have too many freckles, too. Who is your dressmaker?”

“I haven’t got one. This is what I wore before Father’s passing, but I thought it should still do. The rest of my gowns…”

“Are purple too? Dear Lord, are they all revealing your ankles? Were your gowns never let down? Fine. I shall take you shopping.” Theodosia gave a sharp nod as if she’d just been given responsibility for an army.

Charlotte’s mouth hung open for a minute before she snapped it shut. “I appreciate the offer, but surely not. I cannot access my inheritance for another year, Godmother.”

“I didn’t say I would make you pay for anything. Don’t be so crude. You’re a lady, Charlotte. Whatever your uncle thought to do, or not to do, I shall have words with him when I see him again. Never mind that. Let’s get some food in you, and I’ll write to Madame Isla. Go on, right in there.”

“But…”

Theodora was already moving again.

Charlotte blinked and found herself alone until the next trunk was brought in. Her cheeks reddened—how many trunks had she brought? There were only two carriages. She hadn’t thought she had much, but it seemed she was wrong.

At least this is a large house. Oh dear, I’ll probably get lost before I find my bed. Will I even be able to find my bed within the bedchamber?

Not knowing what else to do, she started toward the sitting room that her godmother had mentioned. She knew that room.

In fact, she remembered vaguely that she had been here a few times as a child. Her cousins had reminded her of that at supper last night, the last night she had with them.

“It was the year you lost your front teeth,” Cousin Nicholas had said with a smirk before stuffing a large slice of lamb in his mouth. Waving his fork about, he added, “Mother was furious at me for teasing you constantly and worried your father would take you away because I was so cruel.”

“You’re terribly cruel,” his younger sister Eleanor snorted before looking at Charlotte. “I don’t remember much, but you came back with stories of adventures. That’s when we learned all those games. Because you taught us.”

Charlotte had completely forgotten about that.

She paused before entering the sitting room, eyeing the hall. Did it look a little familiar to her now? As opulent as the interior was, there was something quite cozy about it.

She turned around and made her way down the hall, as her curiosity won over. Fiddling with the gloves she had already removed, she looked down the bright hall, where two windows let in natural sunlight.

The second window was cracked open to reveal a nearby garden. She pushed her nose to the glass to spot a wall of ivy. Now that she remembered.

She had climbed it one day. But she had been so short. Someone had helped her. A boyish grin flashed in her mind. Not Nicholas. Not Roger, the eldest of her cousins.

No, it was another boy at Theodosia’s that summer. A young man older than Charlotte. He had laughed and helped her up, only to catch her when she fell moments later. He made her promise to be careful before he took his leave.

I waved to him from the front door. I think he went somewhere. After all, I believe I would have remembered seeing him again. But it was he who taught me those games. That must have been before I tried to climb the wall…

“My Lady?”

Turning, Charlotte offered a sheepish smile to Mr. Lloyd, who was walking alongside another older woman, who appeared to be the housekeeper judging by her uniform and the keys at her waist.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t snooping.”

The housekeeper eyed her warily, but the butler just chuckled. “You are right to be curious. We haven’t had you here for many years.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Charlotte stepped closer. “I stayed here for a short time when I was a child. Unfortunately, I don’t remember very much. Was there… was there another child here? I didn’t think Lady Theodosia had any at the time.”

After exchanging looks, the servants nodded.

“Indeed, there was,” the housekeeper confirmed. “That would have been fourteen or fifteen years ago. Your father brought you here the same year His Grace lost his parents. Her Grace was his guardian as well at the time.”

“A duke?”

“Yes, the Dowager Duchess’s nephew. Adrian Crawford, the Duke of Wakefield,” Mr. Lloyd filled in helpfully. “Perhaps the two of you were friends for a short time that year.”

“Friends?” the housekeeper muttered under her breath. “If you say so.”

Mr. Lloyd cleared his throat and smiled at Charlotte. “Is there anything more we can do for you?”

“Oh, no, no I’m all right. I’ll just go and, erm, enjoy some tea,” Charlotte promised.

Winding up in the sitting room with tea and biscuits, she ate her fill and tried to recall what she knew of the Duke of Wakefield.

What information Charlotte didn’t know was provided at the dressmaker’s that very afternoon.

As her godmother took her for a fitting, other young women crowded the shop with gossip. The Duke of Wakefield had come to London. Someone thought they had seen the Duke entering his club.

They had asked Theodosia about it, who insisted it wasn’t possible, since he wouldn’t dare show his face in the city without telling her.

Beyond that, Charlotte gathered the knowledge that this particular Duke, as young and handsome as he might be, was quite a rake. The man traveled incessantly. He flirted with all and never committed to even a dance.

It bothered her. She couldn’t reconcile this Duke with the boy she had apparently befriended when she was a child. It seemed unlikely they could be the same person. But whoever the Duke of Wakefield was, she assumed they would never cross paths again.

I am relieved Lady Theodosia is certain he is not in town. If he were to reside with her, as he must have as a young man, I would never have agreed to stay under the same roof.

Shopping for dresses turned into shopping for hats and gloves and all sorts of pleasantries that quickly lost their appeal to Charlotte. She only left the busy shopping streets as many of them began to close for the day. They made it back to Bradford House exhausted. Or at least Charlotte was. Theodosia had plans to see a play that evening but gratefully had no such expectations for Charlotte.

“Rest up, dear. You really must apply some lemon juice at night for those freckles. Get all the rest you can because we have a busy Season ahead of us!” And then Theodosia whirled out the door.

With help from the housekeeper, Charlotte eventually found her new bedchamber. It was composed of three connected rooms, with a bed twice as big as she would ever need. Still, it was warm and comfortable, so she fell asleep quickly.

Getting out of bed the following morning required some effort, but soon she was dressed in another dress she could already tell Theodosia would not approve of. Fortunately, her godmother was still abed.

“What do you think I should do?” she asked her newly appointed maid after glancing out her window into the gardens. “If Lady Theodosia is still abed, am I supposed to be?”

The maid, Abigail, chuckled. “Only if you wish to be, My Lady. Otherwise, we can bring you a tray to break your fast. You may also enjoy a walk in the gardens. Or I’m sure we can arrange a tour of the house if you have not had one yet.”

A tour of the house it was. Charlotte walked with Mr. Lloyd through all four levels of Bradford House before her stomach growled. They returned to the kitchens on the bottom floor at once.

“Oh, I can take the tray myself,” she reassured them once her tea and cucumber sandwich were ready. “It is only two sets of stairs to the library. I would like to do it myself,” she added when the cook looked ready to disagree.

Mr. Lloyd patted her hand before offering her the tray. “I would hate to disappoint you, My Lady. Here you are. I believe Her Grace will spend the day resting, but she should join you for this evening’s supper at the appointed hour.”

“You sound very confident of that,” Charlotte noted.

“I know Her Grace well. She will join you. The day is yours. If there is anything more we can do…”

She shook her head hastily. “No, no, thank you.”

And off she went.

Eager to find a writing desk where she might pen a quick note to Eleanor, Charlotte made her way to the library. The stairs were a tad more taxing than she had expected. Upon her arrival, she sighed in relief at finding a writing desk in the nearby corner.

She put down the tray. Before she could look for paper, Charlotte couldn’t help but move forward to take a quick look at the shelves. It was a large library. Not quite as grand as her cousins’, but it was still beautiful and filled with potential.

“What a fine collection…” Charlotte traced her fingertips gently across the leather covers before selecting a collection of essays about the many constellations she used to study with her father. She opened it on her way back to the desk. “If only Father could see this copy. No notes, no underlining… It’s like this book has never been touched.”

A small clatter sounded at her hip, and she jumped, spotting the spoon that had fallen to the floor when she bumped into the desk. Charlotte huffed to herself. She could be quite clumsy when she wasn’t paying attention.

“Come here, you,” she muttered under her breath.

Dropping the book onto the chair, she bent down on her hands and knees to collect the fallen utensil.

“That’s an odd place for a maid to be.”

“What?” Charlotte yelped, jerking her head up only to hit the writing desk above her.

She winced, still crouching under the desk as she cradled her head. She rubbed it as she glanced up, and froze at the sight of a stranger before her.

Not just any stranger. A terribly handsome stranger dressed in green finery. One that felt vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place him.

She’d never seen a waistcoat threaded so beautifully in gold and green. He wore fawn breeches tailored to fit him perfectly. And his face was even lovelier than his garments. Black hair curled long over his green eyes, bright against his strong features. His black eyebrows rose as she caught herself staring at him.

“Pity, you’re just a maid,” he said quietly as though to himself.

She blinked and frowned, feeling as though it were an insult.

I’m not even in the black and white garments of a maid. What on earth does he think goes on around here?

“Well?” He shed his jacket before nodding his head toward a nearby coat rack by the door, which he had left open. “Don’t crease it, please.”

Her body moved without a thought of ignoring him or disobeying him. That deep voice of his left no room for disagreement. His green eyes followed her every move as she rose to her feet, wondering again if he could tell she was not a maid.

But he didn’t say anything. Those stunning sharp eyes didn’t show any signs that he noticed she wasn’t wearing a maid’s uniform. As she accepted his coat, still eyeing him, she found she couldn’t move. Not toward the coat rack or the door.

It struck her then that she did know this man. As did the rest of London. Though he hardly seemed the type to teach her games or help her climb an ivy wall, this had to be Theodosia’s nephew.

“You must be the Duke of Wakefield,” she murmured, twice as much bite in her voice than she meant. “What a pleasure it is.”

“Did my aunt tell you about me?”

She raised an eyebrow as his came down. “She didn’t have to. The staff had enough to say about you,” she found herself lying. “But London, most of all.”

That’s not any better. What sort of tongue do I have today?

As the Duke stared at her, Charlotte flushed. She didn’t usually talk back to others, let alone disrespect them. But she’d always felt that servants deserved to be treated fairly, and he wasn’t treating her fairly at all. And she wasn’t even a servant.

There was something about his cynical expression that bothered her, and she couldn’t leave it be.

“You’ve been listening to them? Shame, I could have told you about it all myself.”

“I don’t often find myself listening to gentlemen drone on about themselves. I have better things to do.”

“Like what? Cleaning unused libraries? The good Lord knows no one uses this one except Mr. Lloyd,” Adrian pointed out.

He was familiar with the house and the servants, she surmised.

Or at least some of it. How often did he come here then?

As Charlotte asked herself that question, a sudden fear struck her.

He was in town. The ladies in the shop had been right. Did his aunt know? Maybe Theodosia just hadn’t wanted her to know. Surely, a single woman living in the same house as a bachelor wasn’t proper.

She sniffed, pulling herself together. “I was doing what anyone does in a library—reading.”

“You expect me to believe you were reading?” he scoffed. Bending down, he picked up the book she’d set down only moments ago. Irritation bubbled up her chest, but she stood still as he studied the book. “Since when do women like you read about astronomy?”

“Perhaps if you gave us an ounce of respect, we might tell you.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t speak to women about astronomy. I prefer simpler topics.” Again those eyes bored into hers as he smirked at her. “I should think a maid would too, should she like to keep her position.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you threatening me?”

“I would never. As we know, this is my aunt’s home, and I wouldn’t dream of threatening her servants. But alas, I am a duke.”

“And?”

He crossed his arms. “And I’m deserving of some semblance of respect. Blast it, is this your first day as a maid?”

“Even if it was, I shouldn’t be asking you for direction on how to do my job,” Charlotte retorted. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about an honest day’s work even if it bit you in the––in the––”

The problem was that Charlotte did know the words. She knew several words that she shouldn’t. That happened when one lived out in the country and made friends with the farmers and local gentry who didn’t have the fine language or diction of London Society.

But I’m not there anymore. I’m not supposed to know those words, and I don’t know what words to use instead. What if I’m better suited to being a maid than a lady? My godmother would laugh.

“Go on.”

She huffed at Adrian’s broad smirk. His mouth was too big, she decided. The man wasn’t really that handsome. He received too much credit. He wasn’t that handsome at all. Merely annoying.

“You know what I mean.”

Leaning forward, he said to her, “Perhaps I don’t.”

“Well, I won’t say it!”

“Then don’t say things you won’t finish saying,” he ordered her. “If you’re going to ignore everything else, then at least remember that. Never start something you won’t finish.”

Charlotte gritted her teeth in annoyance. She held his coat tightly, resisting the urge to throw it at him. The horrible item was growing quite heavy. She thought to send it right back to him.

And yet he has a point. What am I doing, irritating a duke? I think people have been hung for less than that. And he’s Lady Theodosia’s nephew. I’m only her goddaughter.

A cold realization dawned on her, at last. Pulling herself together, Charlotte straightened up. She inhaled deeply before dropping her gaze. Arguing with him had been a mistake. Having just arrived in her new home, she didn’t want to cause any upsets. Already she was prepared to give a lengthy apology to her godmother.

As for Adrian, that would require more time.

So she did her best as she offered a quick apology. “You’re quite right, Your Grace. My apologies for disrespecting you. It will not happen again. Allow me to put your coat away.”

“Take the tray as well,” he said as she moved toward the coat rack. “I have no need of it.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Charlotte grabbed the tray––and her book once the Duke had moved away and left it behind––before leaving the library. The place was too crowded.

She took the tray to her bedchamber instead and sat there for most of the afternoon, stewing over what had happened. Would she run into the Duke again? And if she did, what on earth would she say?