Chapter 5 #2
Before she could object further, Arabella moved. “Margaret,” she said brightly, “I believe we ought to inspect the garden.”
Margaret blinked in alarm. “Ought we?”
“We absolutely ought,” Arabella declared.
Charlotte stared at them both in betrayal. “You cannot possibly be leaving.”
Arabella gave her a deeply unhelpful encouraging smile. “We shall be nearby.”
“Arabella… but…”
But her cousin was already shepherding Margaret toward the door. Margaret offered Charlotte an apologetic little wave before disappearing entirely.
Traitors.
The door closed behind them, leaving Charlotte alone with the duke.
Victor looked faintly amused. “You appear abandoned.”
“You appear unwelcome,” Charlotte replied at once.
That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth. He stepped further into the room, removing his gloves with deliberate calm while Charlotte tried very hard not to notice how elegant his hands looked.
“Well?” she asked briskly. “You have clearly not come to apologise, so what is it you want?”
His gaze flicked toward her sharply. “You expected an apology?”
“I expect nothing,” Charlotte said. “Though in hindsight that was overly optimistic.”
Victor huffed a quiet laugh. “No,” he said. “I have not come to apologize.”
“Of course not,” she muttered.
“I have come with a proposition.”
Charlotte folded her arms. “How ominous.”
“My grandmother is distressed by your absence,” he said simply. “She asks for you constantly.”
Charlotte’s irritation faltered at once. “Is she unwell?” she asked quickly. “Did she sleep properly? Has she been eating?”
Victor watched her carefully now, something unreadable flickering briefly across his expression. “She will be fine,” he said. “Provided you return.”
Charlotte exhaled softly in relief before catching herself. “As her companion?”
“Yes,” he said.
She frowned slightly. “That cannot possibly require a personal visit from a duke.”
“No,” he agreed calmly. “It does not.”
A dreadful feeling settled in her stomach.
Victor held her gaze steadily. “You would also continue acting as my betrothed.”
Charlotte stared at him.
Not a chance!
“You cannot be serious about such a matter,” she said.
“I rarely joke regarding family matters,” he replied.
“Why would I agree to such insanity?” she demanded.
Victor regarded her evenly. “Because I shall give you anything you desire.”
The words settled heavily between them.
Anything… I desire?
Charlotte hated the way her pulse stumbled slightly at the low timbre of his voice. Worse still was the look in his eyes, not mocking this time, but intent in a way that made her suddenly far too aware of the space between them.
“You cannot simply purchase people,” she said carefully.
“No,” he replied. “But arrangements may be mutually beneficial.”
Charlotte turned away from him abruptly, pacing toward the fireplace in an effort to gather her thoughts. This was madness. Entire, complete madness.
And yet… why am I blushing?
No, I cannot give in to this madness.
Her sisters’ faces rose immediately in her mind. Joan laughing too loudly at assemblies because she feared nobody would notice her otherwise. Irene pretending not to care each time another season passed without security. Penelope, wild and restless because nobody knew what future awaited her.
Then there was her mother, exhausted by constant worry.
Charlotte pressed her lips together tightly.
“Name your terms,” he said at last.
I should dismiss him outright.
Instead, the words slipped out before she could reconsider them. “Sponsor my sisters.”
The room fell quiet. Charlotte turned slowly, almost expecting him to laugh.
“Settled,” Victor said.
She blinked. “You would do it?”
“Yes.”
“Truly?” she asked.
Victor looked faintly impatient now. “Miss Brown, I do not make offers lightly.”
Charlotte stared at him in astonishment. “You would sponsor all three of them?”
“If necessary.”
She searched his expression for mockery and found none. Relief hit her so suddenly it nearly weakened her knees. Years of worry, sacrifice, and quiet desperation seemed to loosen their grip upon her chest all at once.
“Oh,” she said softly.
Victor’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly at her reaction. He seemed briefly caught off guard by the sincerity of her gratitude.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “You cannot imagine what this means to me.”
Something unreadable crossed his face before his usual composure returned. “Then we are agreed?”
Charlotte hesitated only briefly now.
If enduring the Duke of Mulford meant securing her sisters’ futures and ensuring Elizabeth’s comfort, then she could bear it.
Even if he is impossible.
“Yes,” she said finally. “We are agreed.”
Victor inclined his head once, as though the matter had merely been business all along. “Excellent,” he said. “You shall return to Mulford Manor as soon as possible. I told Grandmother you left to visit family. So that is what she believes. We must continue that story.”
Charlotte sighed faintly. “I cannot believe I am agreeing to this.”
“Neither can I,” Victor said dryly.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do not grow smug, Your Grace.”
“Perish the thought.”
Charlotte paced slowly, though now her thoughts felt lighter somehow. For the first time in years, there existed a possibility, however absurd, that her sisters might actually have proper futures.
Joan might find a husband who appreciated her spirit. Irene might finally have the season she deserved. Penelope might perhaps avoid setting society entirely ablaze.
“You would do anything for them, wouldn't you? Your sisters,” he observed quietly.
Charlotte stopped. “Yes,” she said simply.
Something in his expression changed briefly at that, though she could not quite decipher it.
“Well,” he said at last, reaching for his gloves once more, “I shall expect you to return tomorrow afternoon.”
Charlotte nodded slowly.
As he moved toward the door, she found herself speaking again before she could stop herself. “Your Grace?”
Victor paused, glancing back.
“For Elizabeth’s sake,” Charlotte said carefully, “I shall do my best.”
To her surprise, his expression softened just slightly. “I know,” he said.
Then he was gone, leaving Charlotte standing alone in the parlour, staring after him with thoroughly tangled thoughts.
This arrangement is reckless.
Ridiculous.
Potentially disastrous.
But for the first time since losing father, hope no longer feels entirely impossible.