Chapter 4
Charlotte grabbed a small candlestick. She clutched it tightly in her hand as the metallic clang echoed once more from behind the forbidden door.
Her heart quickened, each beat louder than the last, and when she heard a voice, low, unfamiliar, and distinctly not the duke’s, her resolve hardened at once.
“An intruder,” she whispered to herself, her mind racing with dreadful possibilities.
Squaring her shoulders, she raised her makeshift weapon and pushed the door open without further hesitation. The scene that met her was not at all what she had expected.
Charlotte halted abruptly, her breath catching as she stared at the duke, very much not in danger, and even less appropriately dressed.
He stood near a desk, shirtless, while a woman beside him gasped and hastily gathered her things.
The lady turned away at once, covering her face as though Charlotte herself were the scandal, and fled past her in a flurry of silk and embarrassment.
Charlotte remained rooted to the spot, still holding the candlestick aloft.
“I… I…” she began, then stopped entirely, her thoughts colliding in utter disarray. “I believed there was an intruder.”
Victor said nothing at first, merely looking at her, really looking this time, and then, quite unexpectedly, he laughed.
Charlotte’s grip tightened. “I fail to see what is amusing,” she said stiffly.
“That,” he replied, gesturing lazily toward her raised arm, “is perhaps the most unconvincing weapon I have ever encountered. I've seen potatoes bigger than that.” His gaze flicked over her, amusement lingering. “Though I admire your enthusiasm.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks, though indignation quickly overtook it. “I thought… I thought someone was in need of assistance,” she said.
His brows lifted slightly. “Indeed,” he said. “Though I do not recall requesting assistance.”
He grabbed his shirt, but he did not pull it on.
Why does he not dress himself at once? This is most inappropriate.
Charlotte lowered the candlestick with a sharp motion. “I did not expect to find you engaged in… such behaviour.”
“And what behaviour might that be?” he asked coolly as he stepped toward her. His lids lowered lazily.
“The behaviour of…a rake, Your Grace.”
The amusement faded from his expression at once. “You are in no position to make such accusations,” he said evenly. “Particularly as you have just disregarded a direct instruction not to enter this room.”
Charlotte lifted her chin. “I believed there to be a threat,” she said. “I should think that justifies my actions.”
“You have also,” he continued, as though she had not spoken, “interrupted a private engagement.” His tone sharpened slightly. “Which was both unnecessary and inconvenient.”
Charlotte let out a disbelieving laugh. “Inconvenient?” she echoed. “Your grandmother is upstairs, asleep, and you see fit to conduct yourself in such a manner under the same roof?”
His gaze darkened slightly. “My conduct is not your concern,” he said, taking large strides toward her.
“And yet I am employed in this household,” she replied. “I should think its propriety concerns me at least a little for I would not have my reputation tarnished by association.”
They stood far too close now, and she hadn't quite realized how the distance between them had vanished. Charlotte could feel the heat of him, the quiet intensity in his gaze far more unsettling than his earlier mockery.
“If propriety concerns you so deeply,” he said softly, “you might begin by observing the rules set for you.”
“If decency concerns you at all,” she returned, “you might attempt to practice it.”
For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them felt charged, taut with something neither of them seemed willing to acknowledge.
Then his lips curved slightly. “If you wished to take her place,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “you need only have asked. There was no need for such theatrics.”
The nerve of him!
Charlotte stared at him, stunned. “How dare you,” she said, her voice sharp with fury.
“I merely offer a solution,” he replied.
“You offer an insult,” she snapped. “And a very poor one at that.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, as though measuring her reaction. “You are remarkably quick to anger,” he observed.
“And you are remarkably intolerable,” she returned.
A silence followed, and Charlotte felt something shift within her, not uncertainty, but decision. “I will not remain here,” she said suddenly.
His brow lifted. “No?”
“No,” she repeated firmly. “I shall not endure such behavior, nor such insinuations, for nothing could be more clear to me than the fact that I would never ever want such a man as you.”
She stepped back at last, reclaiming her space. “You may find another companion for your grandmother.”
To her surprise, he did not argue. If anything, he seemed faintly… pleased as a smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth.
“As you wish,” he said simply.
Charlotte blinked, thrown by the ease of his acceptance. “You do not object?” she asked.
“Should I?” he replied.
Her irritation flared once more. “No,” she said briskly. “You should not.”
“Then we are in agreement,” he said.
Charlotte turned sharply, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another word. She left the room at once, her mind racing as she made her way back to her chamber.
How insufferable he is. How utterly impossible. And yet…
She paused briefly in the corridor, her thoughts catching on a troubling notion.
He had not tried to stop me. Indeed, he had seemed almost content with my decision.
“He wishes me to leave?” she murmured to herself, frowning.
It was an unsettling thought, one that lingered as she made her way to her chamber and gathered her things with swift determination. She would go to Arabella, of course, that was the sensible course, and from there she would find another position, one far less… complicated.
And yet, as she prepared to depart, she could not entirely silence the quiet, persistent question that lingered in her mind.
Why had he been so willing to let me go so easily?
* * *
The next day, Victor stood at the window of his study, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out over the manicured lawns without truly seeing them.
He had dismissed his valet twice that morning and abandoned three separate letters half-written, each casualty to the same persistent distraction.
It is absurd to be so thoroughly unsettled by a woman I did not intend to court. She was an employee and nothing more.
And yet Charlotte Brown lingered in his thoughts with a stubbornness that was both irritating and… inconveniently compelling.
“She is merely interesting,” he muttered, as though the words might settle the matter.
It was novelty, nothing more, a diversion from the usual parade of agreeable, predictable company.
She had defied him, contradicted him, and then walked away, which was not behaviour he often encountered.
No, most fawned and begged to be in his company, but not her.
“Naturally one notices such things,” he added under his breath, though the explanation felt increasingly insufficient.
A knock interrupted him, and before he could respond, Lionel entered without ceremony.
“Grandmother is asking for Miss Brown,” he said.
“Is she?” he replied coolly. “How unfortunate.”
Lionel studied him. “You have not yet told her,” he said.
Victor turned at last, his expression composed. “There has been little opportunity,” he replied.
“Then you must make one,” Lionel said. “She will not be easily diverted.”
Victor exhaled slowly. “Very well,” he said. “Let us attend her together.”
They found Elizabeth seated by the window, her expression brightening at once upon their entrance.
“Victor,” she said eagerly, “where is Charlotte? I have not seen her this morning.”
Victor paused only briefly. “Miss Brown has left,” he said. “She will not be returning.”
The effect was immediate. Elizabeth’s smile faltered, her eyes filling with unmistakable disappointment.
“Left?” she repeated softly. “But… she cannot have done so.”
“I am afraid she has,” Lionel said gently.
Elizabeth’s hands trembled slightly in her lap. “Was there a quarrel?” she asked. “Has the engagement been broken?”
Elizabeth's breath became shallow and panicked.
Victor glanced at Lionel, a silent exchange passing between them in an instant. In that moment, clarity settled over him with surprising ease.
I cannot let Grandmother suffer like this. I will not. No matter what I have to do.
“No,” he said smoothly. “The engagement remains intact.”
Lionel’s brow lifted ever so slightly, though he said nothing.
“Charlotte has merely gone to visit relations,” Victor continued. “She will return shortly. She meant to say goodbye to you, but she had to leave before dawn, and I insisted she let you rest.”
Elizabeth’s expression brightened at once. “Oh,” she said, relief softening her features. “Well, that is quite different, then.”
He watched as her breathing regained a steady rhythm and the color flooded back into her cheeks.
“Entirely,” Victor replied.
“You must not let her stay away too long,” she added. “She is far too lovely to be absent.”
“I shall endeavour to see her return promptly,” he said.
Lionel cleared his throat lightly. “Perhaps we might take some air, Grandmother. I will have Hannah come to you to change into your day dress to go into the gardens,” he suggested.
“Yes, yes,” Elizabeth said, rising with renewed energy. “That would be very nice.”
They left her in better spirits than they had found her, though the moment they stepped into the corridor, Lionel turned sharply to Victor.
“Well,” he said, “that was unexpected.”
Victor continued walking, his expression unchanged. “It was necessary,” he said.
“Is it?” Lionel asked. “Or merely convenient… for you?”
Victor stopped, turning to face him. “She required reassurance,” he said evenly. “I provided it.”