Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"I was thinking peach ribbons for my hair," Chelsea said as the two young ladies made their way into the entrance hall of the estate later that day.

"I saw some of the prettiest gold and silver thread in the haberdashery the other day," Charlotte said. "That would look so beautiful wound into your hair. Then you can keep the ribbons for your bouquet."

"A wonderful idea!"

The butler emerged from his pantry near the door and reached for the coat hangers with the ladies' cloaks.

"So the haberdashery is a must," Charlotte said. She wordlessly put her arm out for the butler to wrap her in her cloak, then she tied the ribbon at the front herself. "Which other shops do you wish to visit?"

"I would like to check on my gown at the modiste ," Chelsea said. "She has yet to write to me to tell me the gown is ready, but you know how impatient I am. Even a glimpse at part of it would excite me. And then the glover, of course. And I'd like a new hair slide. One that shines in the light as I walk down the aisle. You should have one too, Charlotte dear."

"A full day then." Charlotte grinned, pulling her shoulders in with the excitement of what was to come.

When she was with Chelsea, she forgot all about her roiling emotions and her confusion about the duke. It was all nonsense, anyhow. She had managed to get herself riled up—and strangely drawn to—a man who made little to no difference in her life whatsoever. And they had barely even met!

Once they were both fully cloaked, Charlotte fed her arm through Chelsea's, and they began toward the door.

The clunk of it opening made her jump, more so because it was sooner than she had expected. The duke! The thought flashed in her mind, mixing hope with fear and annoyance, but she pushed it away as quickly as it had arrived, irritated that she had thought of him at all.

It wasn't the duke. She watched curiously as in walked a man she vaguely recognized. He had changed greatly in the years since she had last seen him, and she noted how handsome he had become over the years.

"You're not going out, are you?" he said, looking directly at Chelsea.

"Stewart!" she cried.

Chelsea dashed forward, her cloak flowing out behind her, and threw her arms around her cousin while Charlotte shuffled awkwardly behind them, feeling rather like a gooseberry.

"It's so good to see you," Chelsea said, her voice muffled by Stewart's neck. "I can't believe you've been here for two whole days already, yet I haven't seen you!"

Stewart chuckled, pulling himself away from the embrace. "More like a day and a half, but it does feel like we've missed each other at every turn," he said. He glanced at Charlotte. "And this cannot possibly be the Miss Charlotte who was barely taller than my knee?"

Charlotte smiled weakly at him, curtsying politely. "Good morning, my lord. It appears we have both aged somewhat since our last meeting."

"And what a beautiful young lady you have become," he said with a bow. "But please, call me Stewart. You have been friends with my dear cousin here for so long that you might as well be family yourself."

"She is family," Chelsea said, cuddling into Charlotte's arm.

Warm gratitude flushed through her, and she smiled at her oldest, dearest friend.

"Actually," Chelsea continued. She glanced mischievously at Charlotte and then at Stewart. "I was hoping you two would meet again. I think you will become good friends."

She raised her eyebrows, making her meaning perfectly clear to both Charlotte and Stewart. Charlotte forced herself to smile. Stewart was handsome enough, she had already noted that. More so than enough , even. But that objectivity had returned to her.

She recognized his attractiveness, but it didn't necessarily make her feel anything. It was a simple fact and nothing more. She knew then that Chelsea's little matchmaking plan would not work—and from the polite smile on Stewart's face, he knew it as well.

"I am certain we shall enjoy one another's company while we are here for your wedding, Chelsea," he replied.

Ever the diplomat. The tension in her shoulders softened. There was simply no spark there, no bolt of lightning such as she had read about in romance books.

Such as I experienced with the duke.

She looked away, once again irritated by her own intrusive thoughts. It felt like they were turning against her—her own thoughts! If only the duke would stay out of her head, she would be grateful.

"Are you going somewhere?" Stewart asked, looking down at their cloaks.

"Oh, yes," Chelsea said. Her eyes had lit up with an idea. Charlotte recognized that look and she groaned. She had rather been hoping for a quiet day, just the two of them. "We are going into town. You should come along! It'll be a great day."

Stewart opened his mouth to answer but he wasn't given the time. A voice came from the stairs behind them.

"Where are we going?"

Charlotte froze, every muscle in her body tensing. She had, perhaps foolishly, hoped she would not have to face the duke again. Between her anger and her desire, she wished to hide from him. He already popped up far too often in her mind. How dare he have the bravado to appear in real life as well?

"Just in the nick of time, Alexander," Stewart declared. "Come, meet my dear cousin, Lady Chelsea, and her friend, Miss Charlotte."

Charlotte turned slowly, her heart rapping loudly through her entire body. She wanted to see him again, goodness she did. But then, she also wanted never to see him again.

I want to see him.

When she finally laid eyes upon him, their gaze locking, she felt the leap in her chest, the way her belly turned and fluttered. Such a fierce, visceral reaction to his presence. So very different to how her body had reacted to meeting Stewart, and once again, she felt betrayed by her own being.

The duke bowed. "I have already had the pleasure of meeting Miss Charlotte," he said. "But it is a true delight to meet you, Lady Chelsea. I have heard so many good things. May I congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials?"

"You've already met?" Chelsea asked, raising her eyebrows at her friend, seeming to forge t all her manners entirely.

Charlotte had not mentioned it at all, and now her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. It was rare that there was anything she didn't share with her best friend. She looked at the floor, praying the duke would not be so cruel as to tell everyone how they met, and she hoped Chelsea would assume their meeting was so unassuming that there was nothing to tell.

"At breakfast," he said softly, his eyes fixed on her reddening face, and the tension melted away.

Thank you.

"You didn't tell me," Chelsea said, turning to Charlotte.

Charlotte shrugged. "It must have slipped my mind. I can't say the meeting meant much to me." She glanced up at the duke to see whether her cruel words hit their mark. By his wince, she had succeeded. Good. "Besides, I've been so excited about the wedding. It's impossible to think of anything else."

"It's quite understandable," Stewart said. "These fripperies are always so all-encompassing for you ladies."

"Either way," Chelsea said, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace."

"Alexander, please," the duke said, rather magnanimously, Charlotte thought. "I am a guest in your family's home, after all."

"Well, Alexander," Stewart said. "As I said, you're just in time. We're off into town. Care to join us?"

The duke glanced at Charlotte. Was that a smirk she detected?

"I think I will," he said. "That sounds like the perfect way to the spend the afternoon."

***

Alexander had never before thought that shopping, of all things, could be enjoyable. He'd always considered it something for empty-headed ladies with nothing better to do. But as the foursome traipsed from shop to shop, picking up trifles for the wedding, he found himself light, happy, and so very far away from his problems.

He had always known Stewart to be great company, but he discovered that both Ladies Chelsea and Charlotte were equally a delight to spend time with.

Miss Charlotte in particular.

It wasn't the first time that thought had struck him. They had barely conversed except in irritation, and already he found himself drawn to her. He liked being in her company, though he couldn't work out why. It surely wasn't only because she was beautiful and sparked that secret stirring within him. He'd known many a beautiful woman in his time, but there was something different happening.

Different even from Lucille.

Perhaps it was because she herself was so different, so unlike any other lady he had met before. She was somehow dazzling, and when he was with her—even when she was annoyed at him, which was all the time—he felt like the weight of the world was newly shared. He even found himself enjoying teasing her.

He could see how much it riled her, but he couldn't help himself. There was something exciting, something appealing, in her anger. A flash of it lit up her face whenever he spoke, and he was drawn further in.

And the way she sneaks a glance at me, as though secretly she likes it.

"It was kind of you to escort Stewart," Lady Chelsea said as they made their way to the glover.

The streets were oddly quiet for this time of day, giving them a chance to talk. Alexander had intentionally stayed away from Miss Charlotte. He seemed to offend her so very much, and though he rather enjoyed teasing her, he didn't want to create bad feelings among them. It would be unfair to Stewart and Lady Chelsea.

"Thank you," he replied as they strolled along the cobbles. "But it was more a kindness on his part. I think it is fair to say I needed the break from London."

Chelsea smiled. "Don't we all, from time to time?"

From across the road, Alexander heard giggles. They were as light as bubbles and as bright as the sun, and it made him look over at her.

Miss Charlotte.

In that moment, she looked so happy. It warmed his heart and saddened him all the same. She was so beautiful when she laughed, so carefree. So much like the day he had seen her at the lake, before he had revealed himself.

And yet, it hurt his pride to see her enjoying conversation so much with Stewart. It was an odd thing. He knew he shouldn't care. He was attracted to her, certainly, but other than a stirring of physical desire, he didn't care much for her at all. But she seemed so very enthralled with every word that Stewart said, and Alexander was annoyed that she had never responded to him in such a way.

Jealousy , he realized, the word a bolt of lightning in his mind.

He laughed at himself, shaking his head. Surely a woman he barely met couldn't make him jealous, and yet there he was. It burned in his chest every time he heard her laugh, every time he looked over at her to see her huddling with his lifelong friend. She was capable of being sweet and lovely, just as he had suspected.

Just not with me.

"Your Grace?"

"What?" He blinked, pulled back to the world with a jolt. He glanced at Lady Chelsea's expectant face. "I'm sorry, I was miles away."

Lady Chelsea's gaze strayed to Miss Charlotte, and when she returned her attention to Alexander, she was smirking.

"Miles away or just across the road?" she asked.

Alexander's shoulders tensed, panicked that he had given away his foolish, schoolboy feelings.

You hardly know the woman, for goodness' sake!

"Er… no, in London, actually," he stuttered, making excuses for his lack of attention. "I'm afraid to say a duke's work is never done."

"I can only imagine how difficult that is for you," Lady Chelsea offered. "All the more reason that we are grateful to have you here. Are you married, Your Grace?"

She looked at him through the side of her eyes, and he chuckled at her boldness. "No, my lady. I am not married. Were you looking for some marriage advice?"

"No," she replied with a knowing smile. "Just curious, that's all."