Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Two weeks passed since the dinner, and Alexander had seen Charlotte a total of seven times, but each time she had refused to engage with him. She had greeted him politely enough, but he could see the hurt in her eyes, and he wished more than anything that he could explain.

The dinner had been horrendous. He had been forced to spend time with Lucille, and every time he turned his head to catch Charlotte's eye, the woman he truly wanted to be with was laughing with some other man. Lucille, naturally, pulled him into conversation time and again, asking him detailed questions about this and that, and Alexander did his best to be polite. But the truth was, he wanted to be anywhere but with her.

Arthur Mulligan. Even the man's name left a bad taste in Alexander's mouth. But he knew equally that his own conversations with Lucille were driving her just as wild. He was certain Lucille had arranged it somehow, though why Lydia Fairchild and her absent husband would allow such a thing, he had no idea. The very fact that she was staying in their house was suspicious.

The carriage trundled through the busy London streets on its way to Charlotte's home. Alexander was determined to see her this time. It had been unfortunate that the last twice he had called at the house, she had been otherwise engaged and as a result, Alexander had been forced to take tea with Lucille. He had been polite, of course, especially now that she was so involved with the Fairchilds, and he had stayed in the hopes of catching at least a glimpse of his beautiful Charlotte, but it was to no avail.

But today, I shall not take no for an answer.

They came to a stop in the driveway. Alexander straightened his cravat and picked up his cane as the carriage door was opened, then he stooped to climb down. His shoes crunched on the fine gravel as he made his way to the steps that led up to the front door, the sound grinding against his already fragile nerves.

He had seen Charlotte only the night before, albeit briefly, at a soiree at Burns Manor on the outskirts of London. When he tried to speak to her, she had cut their conversation short, disappearing through the throngs of people instead. It had left him frustrated and angry—both at himself and at Lucille for the damage she was doing—and that morning, he had woken with renewed determination.

I shall not take no for answer , he repeated again as he rapped on the door with his cane.

The butler sighed as soon as he saw the duke, as if he had been expecting another visit. Alexander pasted on his brightest smile, digging deep for his charm.

"Good morning! I was hoping to see Lady Ch—"

"I'm afraid she is unavailable," the butler interrupted before moving to close the door in Alexander's face.

Alexander, outraged, put out his cane to stop the man in his tracks. "Are you quite sure?"

The door opened fully again, and the butler exhaled loudly through his nose. "I am sorry, Your Grace. I truly am. But there is nothing I can do. Miss Charlotte has requested she not be bothered by anyone—least of all you."

Is that pity in his eyes?

Alexander huffed. "Very well. And Lady Fairchild, or perhaps even Lady Lucille?" he asked in desperation. If he could just get into the house, then maybe he would have a chance.

"They are not at home, Your Grace."

"But Miss Charlotte is?" he asked, hope springing in his chest.

"Yes, but—"

Alexander didn't let the man finish his sentence. Instead, he barged past him, pushing the door open.

"Please, Your Grace!"

As Alexander strode across the entrance hall, his shoes clicking against the tiles, he could hear the butler's quick shuffle behind him. But Alexander was the much younger—and far more determined—man, and he out-paced him.

"I promise I shall be no trouble," he called over his shoulder. "And if she still refuses to see me, I shall never darken your doorstep again."

He marched straight to the library, imagining Charlotte finding comfort in books. He was right. She sat in front of a low fire, her legs curled beneath her and a book open on her lap. And she looked more beautiful, more vulnerable, more magnificent than he thought he had ever seen her before. His steps slowed as he approached her back.

"my lady," he said, his voice low and soft.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and spun around, eyes wide as she quickly ran her hands through her messy hair.

"Alexander! I…" Her jaw bobbed, but no words came out. Her eyes darted between him and the door.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but I beg of you to please—hear me out."

As he finished speaking, the butler caught up, clinging onto the doorway and panting as he caught his breath.

"I'm sorry, my lady," he said in a serious of gasps. "I can call the constable if—"

"No, it's all right," she said. "Thank you for your kindness, but I will see him, since he is so determined."

"Very well," the butler said. He lowered himself into a seat at the back of the room.

Alexander and Charlotte both stared at him until she finally, haltingly, said, "That will be all, thank you."

"But you have no chaperone, my lady," the butler replied, remaining firmly in his seat.

Charlotte glanced at Alexander, and he knew she wanted to be alone as much as he did. She thought quickly, and he couldn't help but be impressed yet again.

"Annie is on her way back. She has simply gone to fetch something for me. We'll be fine. Please return to your duties, thank you."

The butler was uncertain, hesitant, but eventually he did as he was asked, and Alexander felt the relief flood through him. He would have explained everything even in front of the man, but it would be so much easier if they were alone.

She turned her hard expression on him. "It wasn't a lie. Annie won't be long. Say what you have to say and then leave. Perhaps then you will know that I am serious."

To find her so cold and harsh stabbed at his heart. He knew he would have to win her over, but to find all the softness gone surprised him.

"Can we at least sit down?" he asked. She nodded, and he took the seat opposite her, not daring to approach too closely for fear of angering her further. "Thank you. It means a lot to me that you are willing to see me."

"It's not like I had a lot of choice," she replied.

He took a deep breath, knowing this was going to be difficult. "I don't know what Lucille is playing at, nor do I know what she has been saying to you, but I need you to know that there is and never will be anyone else, Charlotte."

"Anyone else?" she asked, as if she didn't know he meant her. But if she needed to hear it, then he would say it.

On impulse, he stood up and pulled the small velvet pouch from his pocket. He hadn't meant to do this so early, had wanted to explain some more, but he felt as if the time was right. He lowered himself to his knee.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her tone almost panicked.

"Miss Charlotte Fairchild, there will never be anyone but you. Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

***

Charlotte stared down at the diamond ring in horror. She thought she had made herself clear.

"I told you when we were at the lake that you owed me nothing."

Alexander's brow furrowed, his eyes filled with confusion and hurt. "What? No, that's not… Charlotte, I am not proposing because we made love."

He clambered to his feet and sat on the couch next to her. She breathed in the scent of him, allowing his being to embrace her, even if his arms weren't.

"I will not become your wife merely because—"

"Merely because nothing," he said. He put his arm around her and pulled her into him. When he spoke again, his words were whispered into her hair, and she could feel his breath as if it were part of her. "I love you, Charlotte. I have tried to deny it; I have tried to refuse it. But I love you so very much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She let her muscles relax and melted into him. She loved him too. She could admit that now. She wanted him, she wanted for him to never let her go. Could she really forgive him so easily? She pulled back from his embrace and looked deeply into his eyes.

"And Lady Lucille? What of her?"

"She is nothing to me. I have, on a few occasions, been forced to talk with her, as any polite society gentleman would do, but I haven't enjoyed it one bit. I've only ever wanted to be with you, my darling Charlotte."

Charlotte's lips fell open as she looked up at him. He filled her vision as he filled her heart, and she never wanted to lose him.

"You are not merely proposing because we made love, then? You're quite sure?"

Alexander chuckled and curled a finger under her chin. He raised her face to his and gently kissed her lips. "If making love made me want to do anything," he muttered into her mouth, "then it was simply to make love over and over again. With you, always and forever."

"Goodness." Her eyes were closed, his hand thrust into the mess of her hair, and she let her head lean back and rest against him. "That sounds wonderful."

His lips brushed along her jawline and up to her ear. Charlotte quivered with anticipation and desire. Everything about him was intoxicating, from the scent of his cologne to the roughness of his fingers against her flesh.

"Seeing you always enchants me so," he muttered. "I can't stop thinking about you, Charlotte. You have become part of me. My everything."

A shiver ran through her, his touch sending sparks through her body. "Alexander, we shouldn't," she whispered, though there was little force in it.

"How long will Annie be gone?" he asked, and when she did not reply, he pulled away and looked at her quizzically. Charlotte couldn't stop herself from giggling.

"That may have been, after all, a little white lie. Annie is in town with my aunt."

A flash of passion raced through the duke's eyes, and Charlotte's breath hitched as she thought of what was to come. They stared at one another for a long moment, but anticipation soon gave way to passion, and his mouth on her sensitive skin was hot and demanding.

He leaned into her, pinning her against the couch as his hands roamed over her curves, searching for the fastenings of her gown. "I cannot resist you, Charlotte," he muttered.

Nor I you . She could not say the words. She could not breathe as he made quick work of undoing her gown. She thrust her hands into his hair and pulled his lips back to hers, kissing him quickly, urgently, her insides churning with need for him.

"We must be quick," she said. "Annie may be out, but the butler is still here."

Alexander's hand slid up her thigh, making her shudder just as it had before, and remembering the way he had filled her made her womanhood clench with hunger. Their touch was so urgent, so passionate, it was as if they had each been deprived for many years. The gentle touch as his fingertips ran up the length of the sensitive skin between her legs set her on fire, every part of her crying out for him. She opened her legs to welcome him, to beg him.

"Don't make me wait any longer," she uttered as he bent down to kiss her again, his knees wedging between hers as he prepared to enter her.

"I could say the same to you. You have yet to answer my question satisfactorily."

He kissed her again, warm and insistent, and she knew what answer she would give him. As he pushed into her, she said the word. "Yes," she cried. "Yes, Alexander. I will marry you."