Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

W hile Charlotte had indeed heard the Duke call after her the previous evening, she had not taken it seriously.

A gentleman didn’t shout after a lady. Her education in etiquette had gone mostly unnoticed over the years, so she wasn’t entirely confident this was allowed. But it felt rude, so she felt justified in ignoring whatever he said.

Unfortunately, that did not stop her maid from coming into her bedchamber early the following morning with a breakfast tray. The tray included a short note.

In my study at nine.

“That must be incorrect,” Charlotte muttered. It was already eight. She wouldn’t have time to get ready for the day and eat. Styling her hair alone took an hour at times due to its habit of curling in different directions. “Could he have meant another hour?”

“He could have meant eight,” Abigail pointed out. “That’s closer in writing than ten.”

Bother, she has a point. And I’m certain he will scold me if I am late, and hunt me down if I do not show up on time. But what could he really do? The man is a duke—surely he has more important matters to attend to than myself. Brief meetings in the afternoon should be more than enough to ready me for the Season.

Listing in her head the things she knew, Charlotte felt that she only needed a little more effort to know what to expect for the Season. Some new dances, perhaps, and a refresher on the correct way to serve tea. But everyone knew how to eat and walk and talk.

“The newspaper.” She looked at her maid. “I haven’t read one since my arrival here. I used to read the newspaper every morning.”

“Aye, yes, you did, but His Grace takes the paper to his study, and I don’t know that it goes anywhere else after.” Abigail looked at her apologetically. She hesitated before grudgingly asking, “Would you like me to inquire about it later?”

Charlotte bit her lip. She sat down at the small table beside her window to eat and drink, enjoying her morning eggs and tea. The fare was light but hearty enough to fill her for what she expected would be a battle with the Duke.

The thought nearly made her wince. Though she knew she should respect and honor Adrian, as he had a higher rank and she had just accepted his aid, she found it difficult. Even thinking of curtsying to him made her want to roll her eyes.

It will be a struggle, to listen to him.

She grunted in distaste. Feeling the eyes of her maid on her, she glanced over for confirmation before turning back to her food.

“How would you like to dress this morning?” Abigail asked just as Charlotte was finishing her tea. “I think this lovely gown would be suitable for today’s meeting.”

It was the dark green day dress that her father had bought her for her birthday. One of her nicest gowns, though it wasn’t proper for the evenings. She often saved it for days she felt were particularly special, since she didn’t want to wear it out too often. It was the last gift her father had given her before his passing.

“Certainly not,” Charlotte responded at once.

Confusion crossed her maid’s face as she glanced from her to the dress and back. “Do you not want to impress the Duke?”

Charlotte snorted, knowing how undignified it was. Knowing how Adrian would probably turn up his nose at the sound.

“Er, not that much, I mean,” she added hastily. “Today’s meeting is rather informal, and I would rather wear the dress another time. The floral dress shall do.”

“Oh, that one.” Abigail gave her a glance that clearly stated she would like to burn the dress, but Charlotte refused to budge.

The dress may be in an old print and old fashioned, as plain as what the servants wear, but it is still a lovely day dress. It is modest, terribly soft, and comfortable. I shall need this bit of armor to deal with that scoundrel so early in the day.

It was still so early when she grudgingly readied herself and made her way to the Duke’s study fifteen minutes after the hour. She had done what she could, as had Abigail, but they eventually had to give up on her hair and merely plaited it down her back.

The thick braid swung back and forth when she reached for the door handle. But before she could grab it, the door swung open to reveal Adrian looking down at her. In more ways than one, she surmised, judging by the frown on his face.

“You’re late,” he announced. “And you didn’t knock.”

She fumbled for an excuse. “You didn’t let me. In fact, I never had the chance, since you––I beg your pardon, were you standing at the door, waiting for me to open it?”

“Come in,” he said. She noted how he refused to answer her question.

Huffing, Charlotte bobbed a curtsy––she hoped it looked mocking––and then walked into the study. As she moved toward the nearest chair, she could feel Adrian watching her. She couldn’t help but straighten her spine in indignation, take a seat, and then glare at him.

“You walk like an old crone,” he said promptly before walking back to his desk.

The door remained open for propriety’s sake, Charlotte noted in relief, but it still managed to squeak in objection. “I do not!”

“Your shoulders slump when you’re not paying attention, and you stare at your feet. You are tall. Do you dislike it?”

It was as though he wanted her to shout.

Heat flooded her cheeks. Yes, she was tall. Not as tall as the Duke, but she had her father’s height. As she grew up, she’d been mawkish and awkward about her long limbs.

Toes curling into her day slippers, Charlotte fixed Adrian with her darkest scowl. “That is none of your business.”

“You do dislike it.” He pulled a piece of paper to scribble on it. “We cannot forget your lack of manners when it comes to knocking either, and that was the most awkward curtsy I’ve ever seen. Horses can do it better. There’s quite a list of skills we have to work on, truth be told. I fear I will not have enough time to train you on everything.”

“I can manage just fine on my own. You don’t have to insult me so. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?” she snapped. “I don’t learn through insults, you know.”

Adrian set down his quill neatly before giving her a stern look. To her surprise, it reminded her of the nights her father scolded her for reading too long, yet she did not feel chastised.

“I assure you, I shall be kinder than most in London. The marriage mart is not for the faint of heart, My Lady, and it is my duty to provide you the best armor possible before you brave the fray.”

“It’s a wonder you don’t spend more time amongst us,” she muttered. “What charming language.”

“Oh, I can be charming.”

He rose from his chair with ease before rounding the desk to sit on the edge. Those eyes of his, light green and piercing, settled on her. But they weren’t stern or scolding or rude. She saw wrinkles around the corners, as if he was holding back a smile.

A small blush crept up her cheeks before she could help it. There was something about the intensity of his gaze that she could not ignore. Even when she looked away, she could sense it.

“I beg your pardon,” he said in a quiet voice. Respectful, too. “I haven’t seen you look this fresh and delightful before. What a pleasure it is to see such an English rose before me on this dull morning.”

Bewildered by the compliment, Charlotte didn’t know what to say in response. She blinked rapidly before touching her cheek. Then she lowered her hand to her lap at once. “Thank you, I think?”

“What a shame, you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

His words felt like a bucket of cold water. Charlotte gaped at him, more confused.

That didn’t bother Adrian. He tsked and leaned back before crossing his arms, that stern look returning to his face. “You’ll never catch a husband with a response like that. See? Manners and propriety can be turned on and off by most in a heartbeat to trap a poor soul in the tight constraints of Society. Granted, I am naturally charming.”

“You!” she squawked, angry as she realized how badly she had been played. She balled her fists in her lap and glared at him.

With a roll of his eyes, Adrian retrieved three sheets of paper from his desk. He sorted through them while she sorted through a list of insults to hurl at him. Unfortunately, he found his words first.

“I believe we should concentrate on a few basic skills to prepare you for the first week of the Season. You’ll need to be seen and admired, by that point. Then, we’ll decide on our plan of attack. Once a potential husband is chosen, we will narrow down the skills we need to work on.”

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t need a husband,” she started to protest.

But Adrian only ignored her once again. Charlotte glared at him, but he did nothing.

“The skills we focus on will have to be long-lasting to address the sort of behavior that a man typically wishes for in a wife.”

“I’m not creating a version of myself to satisfy a man,” she growled.

“Such traits will include a venerable woman well admired and well received in Society,” he continued while focusing on one of the sheets of paper in his hand. It appeared to include a long list she had no doubt he had enjoyed drafting. “A woman who speaks rarely and is not overly bold. She must be polite at all times to all people, while of course speaking to only those who are proper. This includes a level of discretion in her daily behavior to honor her husband. A woman who can conform to the societal expectations of desirability in her modesty and softness will find herself quickly treasured by the eager bachelors––”

As annoyed as Charlotte wished to feel about this––she was more than ready to push Adrian over his desk and flee the room if not the house––she couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

She threw her head back and clutched at her ribs, trying to imagine herself behaving like that. In truth, she didn’t know any woman who behaved like that. The mere notion was preposterous. She could not live the life of a vapid soul to please her husband.

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that her laughter had caught Adrian off-guard. But it only made her laugh harder.

“Yes?” he asked stiffly. “What do you find so amusing?”

“I must admit that I find all of it amusing,” Charlotte announced. She tossed her braid back over her shoulder. “Never have I met a woman with that description—neither among the nobility, the gentry, nor the shopkeepers I’ve encountered in my twenty years.”

“You shouldn’t mention your age,” Adrian chided.

This time, she ignored him and flicked a hand in his direction. “Whatever list you have created or have referenced, you must burn it at once. That is a long-lost hope meant only for disappointment and failure. Is that what you think a wife should be like? It’s severely outdated. Women can think, Your Grace. We can write and create and do more than hang onto a man’s arm and cater to his every need. I myself am not anything on that list. And I will never be.”

“Never is a strong word,” Adrian cautioned. Frowning, he waved the list in question. “This comes from a pamphlet that was recently recirculated due to its popularity. Am I not the one who has spent more time in London than you?”

“Perhaps, but you don’t spend much time here,” she shot back. “All the papers have said so.”

He stopped. “You read about me?”

Cheeks flushing, Charlotte looked away. “It hardly matters. The fact remains, Your Grace, that you are speaking nothing but rubbish. I cannot fit that mold. No woman can.”

“This won’t get you a husband.”

She huffed out a heavy breath of irritation. “And well I know it.”

Why is it so hard to believe? This man does everything he desires. He travels, leaving behind his home and family and responsibilities. I would bet a pretty penny that he does nothing but lie about, expecting everyone to carry out every little request. I want my freedom––in all aspects of my life. Why is that so hard to believe?

“This is…” He cleared his throat. His frown deepened as he looked at the list again. “It’s not my personal view. I told you, it comes from a popular pamphlet. All of London has read it.”

“I haven’t. Has Lady Theodosia?”

He scowled. “She is a widow and a matron. She doesn’t need to read it.”

“Has she read it before?” Charlotte asked innocently. “Perhaps we should ask for her opinion on the matter.”

Judging by his expression, Adrian knew just how bad of an idea that would be. His lips thinned before he finally put the papers back down on the desk.

“Enough men read it. Lords read it,” he persisted with the stubbornness of a pouting child. “The majority of the ton will expect such a behavior.”

“Really?” Charlotte clenched her hands and then unclenched them as a thought came to her mind. “That is what you expect?”

He immediately turned away. “Certainly not.”

“No?”

“That is, I’m not looking for a wife. It doesn’t matter what I think because I am not on the marriage mart,” he added hastily.

She tutted. “And yet your name appears on the list of eligible bachelors every day. Go on then, Your Grace. Teach me what you are looking for in a wife so I might have a better idea. You are here to teach me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but that isn’t––it’s not part of the curriculum,” he struggled to get out.

Unwilling to bend for him, Charlotte’s smile widened. “Oh, Adrian. Never start something you won’t finish.”

He whirled around to stare at her, his eyes meeting hers in a flash. Her sardonic tone reminded him that that was what he had told her the day they met in the library. He had thought she was a lowly servant.

Now he knew better. And he knew she had caught him.

Rooted to the spot, he narrowed his eyes at her. She waited for him to say something, but only silence greeted her. She thought of leaving, but she couldn’t move. Listening to the pounding of her heart, she began to fear she would be trapped here all day. With him.

“Perhaps you have a point,” he relented.

Or more specifically, I was right. He simply refuses to admit it.

“Of course, I do,” Charlotte declared, trying to tear her gaze away from him.

When she finally did, relief flooded through her. She could breathe more easily and didn’t feel that strange thumping of her heart. But any relief she felt faded away as he started talking again.

“I suppose everyone has an idea of who they would like to spend the rest of their life with,” Adrian said. His words were slow and purposeful, reminding her of fresh summer honey. “I do admire a clever soul.”

Feeling his eyes on her, Charlotte slowly turned back to look at him. “Clever?”

“Yes, clever. I could not bear a life with someone as dull as a raincloud. Intelligent, with enough knowledge about all topics in life, and a sharp tongue that would challenge me regularly.”

Something in her stomach fluttered. “Oh?” was all she could utter.

“Strong-willed, of course. I could not bear a weak duchess. I want someone willing to see past Society’s superficial standards and prioritize what really matters. It is the only way I could bear such a union.”

“Indeed,” Charlotte mumbled as she began recalling the way he had talked to her thus far.

Although he did not directly say that she was clever or strong-willed, had he just hinted between his insults and mockery that she was rather like that?

Adrian stared her down. Perhaps she was imagining that he was studying her lips. “Independent, also. A lady who doesn’t need anyone and can rely on herself even whilst in my company.”

My freedom. My independence.

That fluttering in her stomach was growing. Charlotte wrung her hands anxiously, trying to understand what the Duke was saying.

He cannot be speaking about me. We’ve made our disdain for one another clear in the short time we have spent together, and he knows I don’t wish to marry. How absurd it is to even imagine!

His eyes darted away from her, leaving a chill behind.

“But…” Adrian said sharply. In one long stride, he put some distance between them. “That is a useless list that will not do anyone any good. An entirely irrelevant question.”

“Irrelevant?” she echoed.

“Entirely so,” he repeated with a pointed look as he took his seat. “I don’t need a wife. I’m not on the marriage mart no matter what the gossip rags say. That is not on my list of priorities—it never has been, and it never will be.”

Her mouth opened and closed. Curiosity rose in her heart, and she grabbed hold of it.

“Why?” Charlotte asked. “You’re a duke. You have a responsibility to marry and produce an heir. Why aren’t you interested? Don’t you wish to be a father? A husband?”

Adrian jerked his head up, and an odd emotion flashed in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated anger. “That’s none of your concern.”

“I only…”

It was like a window had opened and closed—she saw something, but it quickly disappeared.

Adrian immediately turned back into the annoying Duke as he leaned back in his chair and picked up his notes. His stern expression made her close her mouth.

“We’ll leave that list alone for now before returning to the curriculum I have designed. This will include the support of at least two other tutors, along with additional reading.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk toward her. “Every morning, we will meet here to resume your studies.”

“That seems a bit much.” Charlotte started as he stood up. “Oh, are we doing something now?”

“No. I have a meeting. It’s bad form to be late, Charlotte. That’s a lesson I think you should know by now. Read the curriculum. There are four books listed at the bottom. Today, find them in the library and begin to study. I’ll quiz you on the morrow,” he added brusquely on his way to the door.

She twisted around, glancing from the long list and then back to him. “This is ridiculous. I know how to shop. I even know how to ride a horse, but––”

But he had already left.

Charlotte huffed as she rose to her feet. It was a good thing he didn’t wish to marry, because he would have made a dreadful husband.