imperceptible nod, he went on, “Charlotte, you have enchanted me from the beginning. You are such a breath of fresh air. I am happy that I chose you.”
He took her hand in his as he spoke, the strength of his feelings making his hands shake a little as he brought it to his lips, turning it over to kiss her palm. She snatched her hand away, though she could not remove the imprint of his heated lips against her skin, and ran as though the hounds of Hell were snapping at her heels. She did not stop until she was safely in her rooms, away from the temptation that was the Duke.
Edmund let her run away, though he did pause to wonder if he had offended her. He knew what he had to do. He had told her before that he must be himself, and he refused any longer to deny his feelings for the woman raising his nieces. He would ask her to marry him, conventions be damned! The people who cared about him would be happy for him, even his sharp-tongued Aunt Agnes. He would need to speak with her father before he addressed her, and obtain his permission to marry his daughter, who was still below the age of consent. No one could be more mature than Charlotte, he knew, but this was one convention he chose to follow, as it would make her happy, and please her parents, who no doubt also knew of his reputation.
He visited the girls once more before he left to see her father, choosing to go when he knew Molly was there, and the following morning, before he took himself off to see her parents, he stopped by the schoolroom, where he knew she hid from him, to ask her,
“Did I offend you yesterday with my attentions?” Clearly shocked by his directness, she answered no, and he continued. “Then what did I do wrong to make you run from me?”
“I cannot accept your attentions, Your Grace. Such a connection is not permitted between us.”
“Do you believe I would do anything to hurt you?” he asked.
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“I am in love with you, Charlotte Williams. You have completely captured my heart.”
“I cannot believe you, Your Grace,” she whispered, distressed more than she could understand. “You do not know what love is. Nor do I. We barely know each other.”
“Believe me when I say I know what love is now. I am sure you know of my reputation with women, but I assure you that I am a changed man where you are concerned.”
Dumbfounded, Charlotte could only stare at him. She wished she could believe that what he said was real, but the evidence to the contrary was overwhelming. She would not become another rejected woman. When he reached for her, she backed away, avoiding his gaze, and after a long, breathless moment, he walked away. She didn’t know where he went, though she observed him leaving in the carriage next morning. Meanwhile, she finally began to see a change in the pallor of Mary Anne’s skin. Her fever broke at last, and by evening her cough was less ragged. Eliza continued to mend quickly, though she was still too weak to sit up for more than an hour at a time. The days melted into one another, and by the weekend, the girls were much improved.
EIGHT
Charlotte had not seen the Duke since his unexpected kiss in the garden four days earlier, and their confrontation in the schoolroom. She was grateful for the reprieve, though she wished things could be different between them. She could still remember vividly how her whole body heated up when his lips touched her hand, and the warmth of his breath on her skin made her whole arm tingle. Even now, her heartbeat raced as she thought of him, and of the effect that his very nearness had upon her. She would have to find a different position, she realised. She could not live here, in the same house with him, any longer. There was too much at stake for her to be foolish and harbour any hope that he might have serious intentions. And she couldn’t stay here where her heart would surely be broken.
The girls were asleep, and she had an