Chapter 6
“Before we go in,” Charity said, “I need you to remember what we agreed.”
They had finally arrived in York and were minutes away from the estate. Even though it had not been long since Charity had left, it felt as though she was coming back a changed person.
Duncan slowed his horse without comment, the leather creaking softly as he drew up beside her. He didn’t look at her straight away and scanned the front of the house with the same watchful focus he used on the road.
You want to speak first,” he said.
“Yes,” she replied, “As we had discussed. I want him to hear the words from my mouth, in my own home, with my sisters watching, so there is no confusion.”
“Mhm,” Duncan’s gaze finally moved to her face. “You’ve been careful not to look at me much since the inn.”
Charity felt the familiar warmth threaten her cheeks, but she didn’t let it make her flustered.
“I’ve been tired,” she said, “and I’ve been trying to keep my thoughts where they belong, which is on Augusta and Matilda. But I am looking at you now.”
Duncan held her gaze for a long moment, and Charity disliked that a part of her wanted to look away first, as if doing so would be safer.
She didn’t, though.
“When we step inside,” she said, “I will address my uncle and explain that I was taken without my consent, that I was found and brought to safety, and that I am returning to collect my sisters. You will stand with me, so he understands I am not alone, but you will let me finish unless he interrupts or tries to prevent me from leaving with Augusta and Matilda.”
“Fine,” he said, though there was a slight hint of annoyance on his features. Charity’s shoulders eased by a fraction, though her nerves didn’t.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Duncan didn’t respond to the thanks; he only nodded once, then rode forward again. The lane curved, and the estate came fully into view. “It’s deteriorating,” he said as he took in the view.
“It’s no wonder he is after your inheritance,” Duncan made a face, glancing at the dilapidated state of the estate around him.
The steps had visible cracks running through them, and the garden had seen better days.
It was an obvious sign of neglect, and one that no respectable gentleman would ever let his estate get to.
Charity nodded, understanding what he had meant, and then began to frown. “It will become even clearer to you as you meet him. Duplicitous and materialistic is the word I would use to describe him.”
Duncan shrugged his shoulders. The Duke of Blackstone was infamous for being somewhat of a recluse, but he had met his fair share of people throughout his life.
He liked to think that his discernment was sharp, and he had great confidence in his ability to deal with people.
As they approached the entrance, Duncan kept a sharp eye on Charity.
She likes to feel that she is in charge, Duncan had realized about her.
It was not something that he had an issue with, as the idea of a perfect damsel in distress had never appealed to him to begin with.
But still, his protective guard was up. They hadn’t even reached the front steps when someone moved quickly around the side of the house and stopped dead in the yard.
“That’s Robert,” Charity shifted close to him, her frown deepening. Duncan looked back at the man with more scrutiny, having found out his identity. He had a smaller frame than himself and a hunched posture that did not give the appearance of confidence.
It was not a competition, surely. But Duncan thought to himself that he would be the clear winner if it were. The thought brought him a strange and petty sense of relief.
“I don’t think he’s noticed us coming in,” Charity continued to whisper to him. At that moment, Robert finally noticed them and got startled.
His face showed shock so plainly it was almost childish, and mouth dropped open.
“He’s looking at you as though he’s seen a ghost,” Duncan remarked under his breath, one of his fists tightening in response. Robert’s eyes moved to Duncan, widening even more.
“Charity.. you… I… we thought you were….”
“Dead?” Charity asked evenly.
“No. I didn’t mean that,” Robert’s face flushed as he tried to cover up his statement, “you had disappeared without a trace, and we were only assuming…”
“I would have imagined that you would have been slightly more relieved to see me,” Charity said in a sarcastic voice.
“Or rather you should be ashamed at having gone away in the first place,” Robert took on a more accusatory tone. To Duncan, it was clear that it was a last resort for someone who had guilt inside of them. “None of us knew of your whereabouts, and now you return with another man by your side?”
Duncan felt his blood boil at his tone.
No one would speak to Charity like that in my presence.
He was going to give his reaction, and Robert flinched as if he expected Duncan to hit him. But someone else got there first.
Charity?
If Duncan had not seen her slap Robert with his own eyes, he would have mistaken the sharp crack for a carriage whip. Robert’s head turned with the force of it, and he was stunned, one hand rising to his cheek.
There was only silence for a few moments. And suddenly, it was as though Duncan was seeing her for the first time.
His wife knew how to defend herself. Duncan’s eyes narrowed, and something like satisfaction moved across his face.
Huh.
“Charity,” Robert stared at Charity as if he couldn’t believe she’d done it.
“Never speak on my reputation and intentions in that manner again,” Charity said, her voice coated thick in anger.
“I didn’t…” Robert’s mouth opened, and he tried to backtrack. But Charity had reached her limit. “Look, you’re making a scene.”
“If you raise your voice again,” Duncan stepped into the conversation, “you’ll regret it.”
Robert froze, and the manner in which his eyes widened told Duncan everything that he needed to know about the lad.
He’d met many like him in his lifetime, and they were all the same.
Big talk, but no bite. Duncan knew that he did not even have to raise his hand to get him to retreat like a dog running away with his tail between his legs.
Duncan looked over at Charity, who had not shrunk herself despite the hostile welcome they had received.
Once again, a flicker of pride passed through him.
Which was surprising to him.
I do not even know this woman, let alone have any sort of affinity for her.
“I must see my sisters,” Charity started to march towards Robert, who moved out of the way preemptively. “Where are they?’
“Inside,” Robert hesitated as Duncan shot him a look.
“Where inside?” Charity pressed, “Take us to Uncle Edward.”
Robert swallowed and stepped aside, leading them through the door. A footman approached, startled by the sight of Duncan. His gaze slid to Charity, and surprise flickered in it.
“Miss Charity,” he said, “I…”
“Announce me,” Charity said, “I require an audience with the Viscount immediately.”
“I am not sure if he is…”
“I have informed you that it is urgent,” Charity snapped. “And if you deny me, then I shall go looking for him myself.”
The footman seemed to finally understand the seriousness of the situation and nodded.
A moment later, another servant appeared to usher them into the drawing room.
All this while, Duncan noticed that Charity did not ease her stance even for a moment.
She kept her head straight and looked at Robert, who seemed uncomfortable and had his own gaze trained to the floor.
“What is the matter here?” a booming voice was followed by a stout gentleman appearing.
So this was the Viscount. Duncan was assessing him, and much like his sentiments about the son, the duke was not impressed. There were no visible signs of warmth in him, as one would expect from a family member reunited with their niece after a period of separation.
That told Duncan all that he needed to know about this man’s character.
“You have returned?” The Viscount adjusted his tone, perhaps realizing that his earlier reaction had not been appropriate. “Have you been well? The footman told me of some disturbance between you and Robert. What is the cause of this trouble?”
Charity pressed her lips together, and Duncan could tell that she was trying to calm herself.
“Robert must learn to hold his tongue,” Charity said, evenly. It took great strength to compose yourself when you were filled with anger, and Duncan respected her for that. “He was muttering all manners of ridiculous garbage to me as I came in.”
Edward shot his son a look, chiding. But in a manner that said do not ruin this for us.
“Oh, well, then I must apologize for his behavior,” Edward said, and then his gaze settled on Duncan. He had not noticed him before. “And who is this? Was he your escort?”
“He was kind enough to bring me here safely,” Charity said, her voice softening slightly.
“And you agreed?” Edward’s face lit up with anger, his top lip shaking and his rather pale complexion turning a shade of red, “I cannot believe you would bring such disgrace to my home, and then have the audacity to place him in front of me. I cannot look at him a moment longer. Guards,” he snapped his fingers, and two men appeared at the doorway.
“Escort him outside,” he barked.
The men approached Duncan, who had neither shown any reaction nor moved an inch to protect himself. Instead, he simply spoke again with that tone he knew was enough to make most men back off.
“I am the Duke of Blackford,” he said. “I would suggest that you move with great caution henceforth.”
Both guards stopped dead in their tracks, exchanging a look between themselves, and then stepping back. No matter if this house belonged to Edward, no staff member would ever choose to listen to a viscount in the presence of a duke.
“Fine, then,” Edward spoke again, his scowl now a permanent fixture on his face. “Leave us alone then.”
The guards scurried away as quickly as they had come. Useless, Duncan thought to himself.