Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Two Weeks Later

"Arthur will be arriving soon," Aunt Lydia said as they took breakfast that morning. It was their usual feast. Far too much food for the pair of them, but Aunt Lydia had a penchant for the lavish. "Don't you think you ought to put on a prettier gown? Especially if you mean to marry him."

Charlotte threw her aunt a polite smile as she buttered her toast. "I shall change for his arrival if you wish, yes, but I am not sure about marrying him. I appreciate the thought, but do you really think we're well suited? I mean, we are barely more than acquaintances and—"

"You will be perfect for one another! I have thought it often, though I have always hidden my thoughts on the matter."

Not very well, Charlotte thought.

"Don't you trust my judgement?" Aunt Lydia asked, a hint of hurt in her words. "After all, I was the one who discovered the truth about the Duke of Ashbourne."

Charlotte winced as she crunched into the corner of her toast. Forget Arthur Mulligan. The duke was on her mind constantly, no matter how much she tried to push him away. He was there while she ate, while she walked, while she read, while she bathed.

He was with her in every word she said and every dream she dreamed. He hovered in the background, waiting for his moment to step forward, but she held him back, refused him entry. He had hurt her beyond measure, and she would not allow him to penetrate her newly built walls again.

She purposely avoided conversation about him because every time she heard his name, it was as if someone squeezed her heart, draining it of yet more love and passion. It was raw and rough, and it made her sadder than she had ever been before. She knew her aunt meant well, but the constant reminders were painful.

"It's true, you did discover the truth about him," Charlotte replied diplomatically.

They'd had a stream of guests since their arrival—locals greeting them to the area once more, old friends come to see if they could help and no doubt go home with some gossip, even Chelsea though her visit had been brief. But the truth was, Charlotte was in no mood for socializing. Wasn't that part of the reason they had escaped London in the first place?

She was overcome with tiredness, embarrassed by her own foolishness, and lost in a sea of sadness over Alexander. Dinner parties and picnics were the last things on her mind, and she was certain Arthur's presence would do nothing to improve that.

"Well, it's probably too late now regardless," Aunt Lydia said.

"Too late for what?"

"To change dear. Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?"

"Oh." Charlotte stirred sugar into her tea. She wished Uncle Elliot was there. Her aunt was trying her best, but she'd always been closer to Uncle Elliot. She'd always been able to talk to him more easily. He apparently had to stay in London for business, but Charlotte suspected Lydia had warned him to stay away, thinking this was more of a delicate, feminine matter.

"It's a shame you didn't think of it before," Aunt Lydia continued. "You knew he was coming."

Charlotte sighed. Having her aunt harangue her while she felt so wretched did nothing to help, even if Lydia thought it did. "I don't suppose Arthur cares much for the state of my gown," she said, mirroring their earlier conversation about the duke. "It's not as if this one is damaged or ripped or even stained."

"I suppose it'll have to do," Lydia said with a sigh just as the butler entered the breakfast room. He stopped at the doorway, his back straight and his hands clasped in front of him.

"Mr. Arthur Mulligan has arrived, my lady."

Aunt Lydia beamed. "He's early! You see how keen he is, Charlotte? He's arrived early!"

"I am indeed early," Arthur said as he stepped into the room. "And for good reason too."

"Arthur!" Aunt Lydia cooed over him as if he were a bird, rising from her seat and flapping around him. "It's been too long. Come in, come in. Charlotte and I were just talking about how eager she has been to see you. Isn't that right, Charlotte?"

Charlotte looked up from her breakfast and smiled weakly. At least when she met Arthur's gaze, she could tell that he, too, felt the rather unwanted pressure of Aunt Lydia's meddling. He was too kind and too soft to do anything about it, though. Charlotte suspected the man would blindly follow his aunt anywhere, thinking her the superior intelligence.

"I have been looking forward to the distraction your visit will provide," Charlotte replied diplomatically, not wanting to get anyone's hopes up.

"And a wonderful distraction you are too," Aunt Lydia said, ushering him further into the breakfast room. "Come, you must be hungry. I'll have the maid fetch—"

"Actually, no," Arthur said.

He stood perfectly still and smiled sweetly to his aunt. For her part, she looked shocked, and Charlotte suppressed a giggle. She doubted that he had ever stood up to her before, and the fact that he had done so now sparked interest in her. Perhaps he was more than the sweet but dull man she had considered him before.

"No?"

"I've already eaten," he said. "We stopped at an inn not too far from here and took a little sustenance. Now, I rather think I'm ready for a ride."

"But you've only just got here," Aunt Lydia cried.

Charlotte dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin, listening with interest but not daring to get herself involved.

"And we all know how good a little exercise can be for the constitution, Aunt Lydia." His gaze shifted to Charlotte. She widened her eyes, panicked that he had noticed her. "Surely you agree, Miss Charlotte?"

Charlotte cleared her throat, glancing between him and Aunt Lydia. She had no desire to offend either of them. "Er… yes, I suppose it is."

"Then you'll join me then?"

Charlotte had no desire to go for a ride and even less of a desire to socialize, but the hope in his eyes was so bright that she found herself unable to say no. She'd always been different, but she'd never been cruel. And besides, she was most curious now. She was certain he felt the same as her—that their marriage would be the most ridiculous thing—yet she sensed he wanted something out of her, and that set her mind wondering. Why would he be so keen to take her for a ride?

"A ride sounds quite delightful, actually. Shall I ask Annie to come along as chaperone?"

"Oh no, I'm afraid I need her here," Aunt Lydia said. "But that's quite all right. You are almost family. I trust you both to go out alone."

Charlotte raised her eyebrows at her aunt. It wasn't that she particularly wanted a chaperone. She knew she could overpower Arthur if it came to it, but she didn't think it would. He was a gentle soul. But she was most surprised at her aunt's relaxed attitude about it. She really must have been keen for them to marry—and certain they would marry—in order for her to so easily risk Charlotte's honor.

Not that I have any honor any longer.

A memory of the duke's hand upon her breast flashed through her mind, and her cheeks warmed. Rake though he may have been, she would miss the touch of his hand on her flesh or the taste of his lips on her own. She didn't imagine Arthur would be much of a match to a man like the duke.

"It's settled then," Arthur said, beaming across the room. "I shall see you outside in thirty minutes."

Half an hour later, Charlotte stepped out of the house to find two horses already saddled on the gravel driveway. Arthur stood next to them, holding their reins. His boots were polished to a high shine, and it seemed their brightness bounced off his face, for he looked at her with such light that Charlotte wondered whether she had made a mistake. Perhaps he did want more from her than she was willing to give, after all.

"Good morning again," she said as she took the reins of the smaller horse.

"Do you need help mounting?" he asked, causing her to snort with amusement.

She looked him directly in the eye and didn't avert her gaze at all as she secured her foot in the stirrup and heaved herself onto the saddle. Once seated, she grinned at him. Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"I see not. Very impressive, Miss Charlotte. You have a strength that many men would long for."

Charlotte threw her head back and laughed as he mounted his own horse. If they were to spend time together, if there was to be any talk of marriage between them, then she would see to it that he knew the true Charlotte Fairchild, and not some mere image she presented to the ton .

They began walking the horses in the direction of the woods, and Charlotte began to think that perhaps this might be fun after all.

"I must admit," he said as they broke through the brush. "That turned out better than I thought. We spent hardly any time with my aunt, and we managed to get away without a chaperone! A positive result all round, I'd say."

Charlotte's cheeks colored and once more, she wondered if she had made a mistake. Why should he care whether there was a chaperone or not? Were his intentions not honorable? Or at the very least platonic?

"Is that so?" she asked, not wanting to give herself away.

"I have a surprise for you." He glanced at her with a wicked grin and then dug his heels into the sides of his horse and galloped away.

Charlotte cried out in surprise, infuriated at his teasing but equally desperate to know what was going on. She followed suit, driving her horse forward until she was in line with him once more, and she found herself laughing for the first time since they'd left London.

"You are acting very mysteriously today, Mr. Mulligan," she said. "And I must say, it is rather different to how I have seen you in the past. Is there something going on?"

He turned and pouted. "Don't you want your surprise?"

"As long as it's not an engagement ring," she muttered. She had thought she spoke quietly enough for him not to notice but she had no such luck. He guffawed.

"An engagement ring? From me? Don't be so ridiculous! I don't know what nonsense my aunt has been putting into your head but—"

"Thank goodness for that," Charlotte said, letting her breath out quickly. "I was worried for a moment that you… well, that you had designs, let's say."

He slowed his horse to a trot and looked at her seriously. "The only designs I have are to give you a surprise, as I mentioned. And not having a chaperone makes that all the easier."

"Well, now I'm dreadfully curious. What is my surprise?"

Arthur directed his horse to take a few steps backwards, revealing the view in front of them. They'd reached a small clearing and there, in the center of it, was a man. He was tall and imposing, his suit perfectly pressed, and his hair perfectly groomed. His chin was chiseled. And he looked at her with such pleading that Charlotte very almost caved.

The Duke of Ashbourne.

She froze for a moment before quickly turning her horse around. "No," she snapped. "Absolutely not. I will not countenance such a thing. I cannot believe you would do such a thing to me, Mr. Mulligan. I considered us friends, but what a fool I have been!"

"Wait!" Alexander cried.

He crashed through the fallen leaves and twigs, leaping in front of her horse so suddenly that she had to pull on the reins. The horse reared up, but Charlotte managed to keep control. As the horse's front hooves landed once more on the ground, Charlotte snarled at Alexander.

"What on earth is wrong with you? You could have gotten yourself killed! And I would have been responsible."

"The risk was worth it," he said, staring up at her. "If only for the chance to talk to you."

A knot of tension and hope gathered in Charlotte's throat. It was indeed good to see him, even if she didn't want it to be. His handsome face, the way his hair curled at his neck, the shape of his lips. The smell of him. She swallowed back her emotions, refusing to let them control her again.

"And why would I want to talk with you?" she demanded. "After everything you have done?"

"Listen to him, Miss Charlotte," Arthur said softly from behind her. "I would not have brought you here if I did not think he had something worth saying. We have discovered some truths since you left that you ought to know."

Charlotte took in a deep breath, straightening her back and shoulders. "Very well. Speak."

"Would you do me the kindness of at least getting off the horse?"

Charlotte ground her teeth. She didn't want to give in to him, and yet she desperately wanted to sit next to him. To feel his warmth enveloping her once more. It had been far too long. Without another word, she dismounted and allowed him to lead her to a fallen log at the far end of the clearing.

"I will see you both later," Arthur said, still atop his horse. "I've got to pop into the village to pick a few things up. I shall be no longer than an hour. Are you all right, Miss Charlotte?"

Charlotte looked at him, tears already in her eyes, and she nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Mulligan."

Once he had gone, she and Alexander sat in silence for a long time, simply basking in each other's presence. Her thoughts danced and churned, unable to decide what to believe, what to feel. She knew she was angry at Alexander, yet she couldn't help but feel love for him too. There is a fine line between love and hate.

"It is true that I once had a relationship with Lucille. I have told you that before."

Charlotte winced at the stabbing pain in her chest. Of all the things she had wanted him to say, Lucille's name was not one of them. But she likewise knew that if they were to overcome this, then they needed to push through the painful conversations.

"I know you do not want to hear it," he said as if reading her mind. "But it is important that I tell you absolutely everything. I want to share everything with you, Charlotte, because I want to share my life with you."

Her breath hitched. He still loved her, then.

As I still love him.

There was still a chance.

"Very well."

And then he told her everything. From the moment he met Lucille to the moment he pushed her off his lap that day in Lady Fairchild's drawing room. He told her the facts, but he told her how he felt at each and every point as well. He told her the good and the bad, opening himself up in the most vulnerable way, and Charlotte softened with each and every word.

"You mean to say my aunt was involved in the entire thing?" Charlotte asked quietly.

Alexander nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Lucille said it was Lady Fairchild's idea, though I wouldn't put it past either of them."

Charlotte remained quiet. She sat on the log staring out over the fallen leaves, her mind whirring. What should she believe? She had never been as close to Aunt Lydia as she was to Uncle Elliot, but she had always thought there was love there. She didn't quite believe it, and yet it made perfect sense. All the pieces of the puzzles fitted together.

"She must have done it for good reason," Charlotte said, finally turning to glance at him. "Perhaps to protect me."

Yes, that must be it. She was desperate to convince herself that her relationship with her aunt wasn't a lie. But hadn't her aunt proven herself time and again?

"Protect you from what?" Alexander asked. She detected a note of pleading in his voice, and she clung to it. "She wanted to protect your wealth, more like."

"And is that such a bad thing?" Charlotte demanded. "That she should want to secure my wealth for my own future, my own happiness?"

"If that was her true intention, then no," he said despondently. "I don't suppose it is."

"But you don't think she meant it for my own future happiness, do you?"

The duke shook his head, and Charlotte nodded. She knew what he thought, and perhaps he was right. After all, didn't her aunt always prefer the luxurious over the frugal?

They settled into silence again, until Charlotte said, "It's true then? You're penniless?"

Alexander looked ashamed for the first time, and Charlotte knew it was true. She knew, too, that he thought himself somehow less of a man for it, but she would never think such a thing. If anything made him less of a man, it was lying or pretending he was anything but what he was. But financial wealth? That didn't make a man.

"I told you about my uncle," he said. "He ran the estate down and built a huge amount of debt. It was his sickness that did it, of course. He had always been so responsible with money before that, but nobody saw the danger signs until it was too late. When I inherited the duchy, there was nothing left. The house was—is still—in a state of disrepair, all his business ventures were on their knees, and investors were demanding their money back."

Charlotte nodded, her eyes once more on the floor in front of them. "So you did want me for my money then?"

Alexander let out a loud laugh that echoed through the trees, and Charlotte looked at him in surprise.

"What on earth is so funny?"

"I'm sorry, my lady, but no. I do not want you for your money. I must be truthful and tell you that it did cross my mind, that I did think about how beneficial your inheritance would be to my estate—it's natural that such a thing would occur to me. But no. I absolutely do not want you for your money, and neither do I need it."

She frowned at him. "But you just admitted that you're penniless."

"No." He shook his head, his eyes to the sky as if remembering. "No, I think you'll find that's not what I said. I believe, if you had listened closely, you would have heard me say that the duchy was penniless when I took over."

"But the house is in disrepair—"

"Yes, that much is true," he said with a nod. "For now."

Charlotte growled in frustration and got up from the log, stomping her foot. "Would you stop talking in riddles, you infuriating man?"

The duke laughed again and he, too, got up, joining her in the center of the clearing. He put his hand against her cheek, and Charlotte was too overwhelmed with emotion to step away.

"Only yesterday I discovered something. Two of my investments have made significant dividends. Not one, but two, Charlotte! I've made a small fortune. I have enough to refill the coffers, pay off the debts, and I will have a significant amount left over.

But yes, the house is still in a state of disrepair because coming to see you was ultimately more important than anything in the house. Do you see now, Charlotte? I never was after your inheritance, and now I most certainly am not."

"Congratulations on your success," was all she could think to say, for as she stood there, staring up into his eyes, she could feel herself falling in love all over again.

Alexander smiled softly. "I don't consider that success," he said. "Not unless I have you by my side. You have to believe me, Charlotte. I love you more than anything in the world. I really, truly do. You can confront your aunt or ask Arthur. You could even approach Lucille if you truly wanted to. I know she would tell you the truth now."

"Arthur?" Charlotte's brow furrowed as it all began to make sense. When she looked at Alexander again, her expression had turned to one of delight. "Arthur!" She giggled. "It must be true because he was the one who brought me here."

"And he's a very trustworthy man," Alexander said with an eyebrow raised. "He wouldn't do such a thing unless he knew with absolutely certainty that it was correct. So do you believe me now?"

Charlotte bit her lip as looked into his eyes. She'd missed this, simply being with him and looking at him. The nerves in the pit of her stomach turned to excitement and hope, and she nodded.

"Do you really, truly love me? More than anything?"

"More than I love anything in the world. More than roast guinea fowl. More than sugar plums. More than life itself!"

Charlotte giggled again. All her worries and concerns melted away. The only thing left was love and perhaps a pinch of sadness that it took this misdirect to bring them together again.

"That's good," she said. "Because I love you more than anything, too. More than books, even, and that's saying something!"

Alexander raised his eyebrows. "More than books, you say? Now that really is something. I love you more than… hmmm, let's see… than the heavens and the earth."

"And I love you more than the smell of sweet flowers on a dewy morning."

Alexander laughed and reached forward to cup her cheek. "I love you so much that I want to make love to you over and over."

Charlotte's giggling died away, replaced instead by a heaviness that entwined with desire. Passion throbbed within her. "Then perhaps you ought to," she said in her sultry voice. "Just to prove yourself honest, I mean. Otherwise, how could I ever possibly believe you?"

Alexander glanced around, just as he had that day on the bank of the lake, then he cupped Charlotte's other cheek, bringing her face to his.