Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

T he hour was late, so Adrian treated himself to a small glass of brandy. He didn’t indulge often, but there was a fine bottle in his study, and it had been a long day.

Might have been longer if she had remained here. Perhaps it is best she remained in the country for the night.

He sat back down at his desk only to groan in distaste over the issue at hand. Glancing lazily at the amber liquid swirling in the crystal glass, he sighed and then set it down. Already he could tell it would do him no good.

Laid out before him were notes on the steps a gently bred young lady was required to follow in order to have a successful debut.

Having been raised the heir of a duke, he knew very well what was expected of him as well as any woman. He remembered his first Season over ten years ago, when already he knew how to charm any set of pretty eyes and lips that stepped into his path. Dancing, feathery fans, proper gloves, and so on. The business never ended.

He then remembered his father telling him he was lucky that he was born male. Men had the power, the control, and the intelligence. It was their world, and they could do as they desired. As a duke, he would be able to do anything he liked—only the King could stop him.

The memory made him cringe.

What am I doing? She has refused already. My aunt cannot force us both into something we will not agree on. As Lady Charlotte has decidedly chosen not to allow me to tutor her, then I don’t even need to be thinking about this let alone wasting paper. This is my favorite pen. As for Father––

The glass was set down on the desk. He was about to pick up his quill once more when the study door swung open.

“Your Grace, I––” The strong voice stopped short when the door banged against the wall.

He dropped his arm to the desk, annoyed by the sight before him. Judging from her squared shoulders and her wrinkled nose, Charlotte had not meant to push his door open that hard.

Too late, the damage was done. He’d have to inspect it later.

Now, he had to consider the young woman in his study.

Whatever bravado had driven her to storm into his study had evaporated. His eyes fell on her hands, which were clenching and unclenching. She stared at him unseeing, but she blinked rapidly.

He stood up only for his cravat to slide down his chest. Glancing down, he realized he’d loosened the blasted thing and undid the first few buttons on his shirt.

Warmth crept up his face. He cleared his throat and hastily fastened whatever he could before giving up. He tossed his cravat behind him.

“It’s impolite to storm into a room,” he said when Charlotte still said nothing.

Blinking again, she looked away. The redness in her cheeks was unfortunately very becoming. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from it.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I should have… I should not have.”

“And yet you have.”

“I’ll go now.”

When she turned to leave, he huffed. “You’ve already wasted my time and distracted me from important matters. What is it that you want, My Lady?”

Charlotte inhaled deeply. When she spun back to face him, she lifted her chin proudly as though to meet his eyes. There was no hesitation. No caution, no concern, no fear.

“I have changed my mind, Your Grace. That is what I came to tell you. I will accept your help. You shall teach me how to be a proper young lady for the Season.”

It wasn’t exactly a question. Hardly a request. If anything, she was ordering him to do what he’d agreed to do.

His lips twitched, but he suppressed the smile, intrigued more than he would admit. He studied her instead, wondering what had changed her mind.

She went to the country today. Aunt Theodosia said that she could stay the night there and return on the morrow. A trip there and back would have been exhausting. But here she is, fresh and stubborn.

Though Adrian accepted that he hardly knew the young woman, he found himself impressed that she’d come round.

“Good night.” She turned to leave without a curtsy or a nod.

So he called back, “Why?”

Charlotte turned back, holding the door with her bare hands. No gloves yet again. Did she even own a pair? He wasn’t certain he had seen her wearing gloves before.

She frowned. “What?”

“Why have you changed your mind?”

Now she hesitated.

Seeing her eyes dart toward the hall, Adrian raised an eyebrow at her. A slow smirk curved his lips before he could help himself. “Well? What happened? You realized you would fail? You feared missing my company? I am a charming duke. Perhaps you couldn’t wait for your lessons to begin.”

Charlotte laughed.

His breath caught—he was rooted to the spot.

Another hearty laugh escaped her lips. The sound was freeing and genuine, and yet it was fairly mocking judging by the way she waved a hand as though to swat him away.

“And what a charming duke you are,” she drawled, every word dripping with sarcasm.

Adrian kept the smile on, though it grew somewhat brittle. Charlotte had shed her concerns and was now the feisty woman he’d first met.

“My decision has nothing to do with you, Your Grace,” she added in a flat voice.

“Are you certain?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Entirely. Although I cannot help agreeing that your rank is rather helpful,” she added after a heartbeat. “That very thing shall be used to secure me the finest match of the Season. This is all.”

In other words, nothing more and nothing less. What a spitfire she is. I cannot help but respect her for this. Too few women are bold enough to speak to me in such a manner.

“This is all,” he echoed thoughtfully, savoring the moment.

She did need him. It was all that people wanted––the title.

He was used to it. All his life, he had known the likelihood of people showering him with false compliments. But no one dared say it aloud like she did. It was bold and daring and foolish.

A tightness spread through his body, an energy he didn’t know what to do with in this room, which suddenly felt too small and crowded before this young woman dared to look him in the eyes.

“Well?” Charlotte prompted when he said nothing more.

There was such fire in her eyes that it hardened the edges of youth all about her. Or had that softness never been there? He had to take a second look at her.

Yes, she had soft curves. Not even the straight line of her traveling dress could disguise that. He didn’t know her age, but she was old enough to be out in Society. Probably overdue. There was a youthful naivete that shimmered around the edges of her, but that hardness remained.

It was that boldness that had surprised him during their second meeting. Now, Adrian wondered if he had simply not noticed it sooner.

More than anything, he wanted to go back to that moment in the library. Charlotte with her simple dress rising from the floor. Charlotte with her readiness to speak back to him. Charlotte accepting his chastisement before hanging up his coat properly.

And then there was Charlotte meeting him before his aunt, silently mocking him and his mistake.

I will regret spending another minute in her company, won’t I? I can already tell. She won’t give me a minute of peace. Well, we seem to be trapped in this by my aunt, and it seems there is nothing to do but move forward until we cannot stand one another for another second.

Thinking he better start making plans to leave the city soon, Adrian offered her a courteous nod. It must have taken her by surprise because her eyebrows disappeared beneath the curls falling over her forehead. But he was gracious in not mentioning it as he extended his hand. It seemed the right thing to do.

“So be it. One husband this Season.”

“ Lessons for the Season,” she corrected him as though it meant anything different. And then she put her hand in his.

He had to brace himself for her touch after what had happened that morning. The warmth of her skin against his lips had the doorway to his study suddenly roasting in the summer heat.

Breathing through the sweet torture, he gave her hand a brief shake.

A fair opponent, then.

“I mean it,” she added when she withdrew her hand.

He took a step back, leaning against the door to feign nonchalance instead of letting her know how his hand tingled after touching hers.

“Right, no husband,” he echoed sardonically. “What a terrible fate.”

She narrowed those brilliant eyes at him, flashing in the dim light of the hall.

With only a few lanterns lit, there was a blackness tingeing the floor that made Adrian think of shadows creeping up from the underworld to take Persephone back to Hades. Charlotte was bright with her golden blonde hair and rosy cheeks. If spring and summer belonged to anyone, it would be her.

“You are fastidious about this, but it seems useless,” he noted. “With my name and Theodosia’s support, every eligible bachelor will be falling at your feet.”

“It doesn’t matter who falls at my feet or offers me flowers. No man can offer me what I really want.”

There was a power to her that Adrian found himself drawn to. He moved away from the open door and into the hall so he could stand in front of her. The distance between them was so small that he could see the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened.

Was it because of him? Her passion? Her irritation?

“And what do you really want?” he asked, his eyes boring into hers. They were bottle-green most of the time. But in this lighting, they were so dark they were nearly black. A dark winter forest that promised nothing but danger and excitement.

His heart rate quickened in wonder.

“I want my own life,” came her cutting reply. “One free from control. I won’t live the rest of my life under my godmother’s thumb, and certainly not yours. Good night,” she huffed.

Adrian let out a laugh before he could help it.

Ignoring him, Charlotte twirled around, her head still held high as she left him standing alone in the hall. He watched her retreating figure until she rounded the corner and disappeared from view.

“We start first thing tomorrow!” he called after her.

Hopefully, she had heard, or else the morning would be a rude awakening.

Charlotte had impressed him—he could admit to that. Titles only carried so much weight when it came to matters of the heart. He had learned much in his time abroad, and she was a messy but clever hen whom he found himself greatly intrigued by.

Fixing his shirt again, Adrian returned to his desk. He ignored the brandy and instead studied the notes he had written earlier. It would be a long night of planning, but suddenly it felt much more thrilling to be dealing with such matters.

As he worked, he smelled the roses in her absence.