Chapter 19 #2
Her pulse thundered as dreadful possibilities assaulted her one after another.
Perhaps he had reconsidered the marriage entirely.
Perhaps society pressure had become too much.
Perhaps he had finally realized how unsuitable she was to become a duchess and had come to end matters before it was too late.
“Charlotte?” Bridget asked carefully. “You’ve gone pale.”
Charlotte swallowed hard. “Do you think he's displeased?”
Bridget blinked. “Why would he be?”
Which answered absolutely nothing.
Charlotte hurried to the parlor with trembling hands, smoothing over her skirts the entire way. She could hear her sisters and mother gathering behind her.
Charlotte entered the parlor and immediately forgot how to breathe.
Victor stood near the fireplace in dark attire that fitted his broad frame offensively well, one gloved hand resting behind his back whilst the other held a teacup.
Tall, elegant, and devastatingly handsome, he turned at the sound of her arrival and fixed those piercing green eyes directly upon her.
Her foolish heart skipped. It truly had felt like forever since she had last seen him. They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity.
Then the spell was broken as Charlotte's mother and sisters spilled into the parlor behind her.
“Your Grace,” Harriet greeted warmly as all the ladies dipped into curtsies.
Victor bowed smoothly. “Lady Harriet. Miss Brown.” His gaze lingered on Charlotte for one dangerous second longer than propriety allowed before moving to her sisters. “Miss Joan. Miss Irene. Miss Penelope.”
Joan nearly looked flustered by the attention. Penelope absolutely looked flustered by the attention. Irene alone managed composure.
Charlotte clasped her hands together tightly. “You wished to see me, Your Grace?”
Victor’s expression remained unreadable as he set down his teacup. “Indeed. I came to inform you all…”
Charlotte held her breath so sharply it almost hurt.
This is it. He's going to tell me that the wedding is called off. He has decided not to go through with it.
“…that I have acquired the wedding licence.”
Relief crashed through her so quickly she nearly swayed. Good Lord. The wedding was still happening.
Victor’s eyes flicked toward her at once, and Charlotte had the horrible suspicion he noticed every single emotion that crossed her face.
Amusement briefly touched the corner of his mouth before he masked it again beneath cool arrogance.
He looked entirely too confident standing there in her uncle’s parlor as though he belonged amongst them already.
Harriet clapped her hands delightedly. “How wonderful.”
Penelope squealed softly. “A proper special licence.”
Joan grinned wickedly at Charlotte and whispered in her ear. “You may breathe again, sister.”
Charlotte shot her a murderous glance whilst Victor calmly pretended not to notice.
The rogue.
Soon, the conversation descended into wedding preparations, which unfortunately meant everyone speaking at once.
Harriet began discussing floral arrangements whilst Penelope insisted ivory roses were far more romantic than pink.
Joan argued that the musicians ought to be fashionable rather than merely respectable, and Bridget became passionately invested in candle placement for reasons Charlotte did not understand in the slightest.
“And the gold drapery shall frame the altar beautifully,” Harriet declared.
Charlotte grimaced before she could stop herself.
Victor noticed immediately. Of course, he did.
“You do not approve?” he asked lazily, though his eyes remained fixed entirely upon her.
Every woman in the room turned to Charlotte at once. She resisted the urge to flee. “It is only that gold drapery may appear somewhat… excessive.”
“Excessive?” Harriet cried. “You are marrying a duke.”
“That appears to excuse every terrible decorating decision,” Charlotte muttered under her breath.
Victor’s mouth twitched. “What would you prefer instead?”
She hesitated. “Something simpler, perhaps. Cream cloth. White flowers. Nothing too overwhelming. Elegant but plain.”
“A sensible choice,” Victor said immediately. “The wedding should reflect what my intended desires.”
Charlotte blinked at him in surprise.
Harriet looked scandalized. “But cream is so restrained.”
Victor did not even glance away from Charlotte. “Then restrained it shall be.”
The room fell oddly quiet for a moment. Charlotte suddenly became very aware of how intensely he watched her, as though the rest of the conversation barely existed to him at all. It unsettled her terribly.
Worse still, it pleases me.
Joan smirked knowingly. “Well. That settles that then.”
Harriet sighed dramatically. “I see the duke has already become entirely ruled by his future wife.”
Victor finally looked away from Charlotte long enough to answer smoothly, “A wise man knows when to surrender.”
Penelope giggled aloud whilst Charlotte felt heat climb straight into her cheeks. He was impossible. Entirely impossible.
Eventually, Victor rose to depart, and every woman in the room suddenly began speaking over one another once more.
Harriet thanked him for his generosity whilst Joan asked several scandalously direct questions about wedding breakfasts and Penelope worried aloud about whether society would discuss the ceremony for months.
Through it all, Victor remained perfectly composed, though Charlotte noticed his attention drift back toward her repeatedly.
“I shall escort His Grace out,” Charlotte announced quickly before her family could embarrass her further.
Victor bowed slightly. “Miss Brown.”
The moment they stepped into the foyer alone together, the air changed entirely. Silence stretched between them thick and charged whilst distant voices echoed faintly from the parlor behind them. Charlotte suddenly became aware of how close he stood beside her.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For earlier.”
Victor tilted his head. “For what precisely?”
“For not allowing them to control every opinion I possess regarding the wedding.”
His gaze darkened slightly. “It is your wedding too, Charlotte.”
The sound of her Christian name in his deep voice sent warmth curling embarrassingly through her stomach. She looked away quickly, pretending interest in the marble floor.
“That is the least I could do,” he continued quietly.
Silence fell again. Dangerous silence.
Charlotte finally lifted her eyes back to his and instantly regretted it. His expression had changed entirely. The cool aristocratic mask remained, yet beneath it burned something heated and intent that made her breath catch. His gaze travelled slowly over her face with unmistakable hunger.
Oh heavens.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she blurted before sense could stop her.
One dark brow lifted. “Like what?”
Charlotte’s throat tightened. “Like you wish to devour me.”
The corner of his mouth curved slowly upward. “And if I do?”
Her pulse stumbled violently. He stepped closer then, close enough that she caught the faint scent of brandy and cigar clinging to him. Charlotte remained frozen where she stood whilst every sensible thought fled her mind entirely.
Their lips were nearly touching now.
Victor lowered his voice until it became rough velvet against her skin. “Prepare yourself for our wedding night.”
Charlotte’s breath caught.
“Because I fully intend,” he murmured, eyes fixed upon her mouth, “to claim you thoroughly.”
Heat exploded across her entire body so fiercely she thought she might perish on the spot.
Her hands tightened helplessly against her skirts whilst scandalous images threatened to invade her mind all at once.
Victor seemed entirely aware of her reaction too, which only made his expression grow darker with satisfaction.
Insufferable man.
Charlotte finally found enough sense to whisper, “You are utterly shameless.”
A low laugh escaped him. “You already knew that.”
Then, before she could think of anything remotely clever to say, he stepped back smoothly and opened the front door himself. Cool air rushed into the foyer between them. Victor inclined his head once, every inch the arrogant duke once more, despite the havoc he had just caused inside her chest.
“Good day, Miss Brown.”
And then he walked out the door, leaving Charlotte standing speechless in the foyer with trembling knees and the terrifying realization that she could still feel the heat of his gaze long after he had gone, while his words echoed in her mind.
I fully intend to claim you thoroughly.