What the Duke Wants (7 page)

She waited, not wanting to move but also not knowing what to say. What did one say after a kiss? The duke seemed to be facing the same dilemma for he made no movement and spoke no words, simply gazed at her as if seeing her for the first time.

“I…I…” he whispered, his soft breath fanning across her face.

She swallowed. Somehow, feeling like his next words would be pivotal.

“You should dry off.” He stepped back and nodded, turning to the fire, effectively dismissing her.

“Oh, y-yes, your grace,” Carlotta stammered, her confusion and the sting of rejection painful in her breast. Before the tears that were welling in her eyes slipped out, she turned and left with as much dignity as she could muster.

A kiss that had tilted her world and branded her heart seemed to have had no effect whatsoever on the duke.

And nothing could have hurt more.

Chapter Five

Charles stared at the fire until he heard the soft click of her heels in the hall, then he closed his eyes in shame. What a miserable emotion! What a miserable situation he found himself in, over a governess no less.

But if he were being honest, and he found that he was, indeed, being honest, she wasn’t
just
a governess any longer. Not after that kiss.

Charles considered himself experienced in the more romantic arts, to say the least. He was familiar with all types of kisses; seductive kisses meant to lure a man to bed, as well as flirtatious kisses, meant to entice but innocent enough to simply tease. But one kiss he was not familiar with was an inexperienced kiss. Contrary to what he would have assumed, it was by far the most tempting, alluring siren call of all.

Or perhaps it was just
her
kiss.

She had tasted of sweet strawberries and cream, all smooth and velvety. Her lips were far softer than he expected, captivating him from the first whisper of contact. Her tentative response was nearly his undoing if it hadn’t reminded him of her purity, of her innocent nature regarding seduction.

If her innocence was as captivating as that, then heaven help the man with whom she discovered her passions.

Charles swallowed hard.
He
wanted to be that man. The thought of any other man teaching her the joys of passion made his blood boil with a fever of rage.

Normally he wasn’t one given to extreme emotions, yet she seemed to provoke a great many within him. Just another aspect of the decadence that was his governess.

His
governess.

As if he needed a reminder of the difference in their stations, he glanced down to his ring; the family ring that had carried though generations and generations of Clairmonts. Not once had there been a marriage that didn’t include the purest of pedigrees.

A governess. His father must be spinning in his grave. Charles shook his head, trying to dispel the conflicting and confusing emotions and thoughts.

This was why he chose to live in denial. Too bad that ship had apparently sailed away, along with his sanity.

What had he been thinking to kiss her like that? Dripping wet no less, he had practically accosted her. Only, she hadn’t run away. She’d kissed him back.

She had
kissed
him back.

Startled by the obvious realization, he felt a self-satisfied grin overtake his features. It was short lived as he remembered just how he ended the lovely exchange of a kiss.

Yes, shame overcame him again.

Would the carousel of emotions ever end? It was bloody exhausting, all this caring and wondering. Yet at the same time, it was blissful and exhilarating. Women chased
him
, where now he would be the one to pursue, if he did, indeed, choose to pursue.

But he couldn’t.

She was, after all, a governess. Probably from a merchant family, blue stocking to the core.

But that kiss made him almost willing to take the chance.

Almost.

****

“Miss Lottie?” Berty asked as they sat down to dinner in the smaller dining room decorated in deep sapphire blues.

“Yes, Berty?” Carlotta smiled at the girl, though her heart still ached. What had she been thinking? Kissing a duke? Therein lay the problem, she
hadn’t
been thinking. She was consoled with the idea that apparently, he hadn’t been thinking either.

Unless.

Carlotta’s skin erupted in goose bumps, not the pleasant kind either. Surely the duke didn’t think she was a light skirt! One that would dally with her employer? Humiliation at her naïveté washed through her, soaking her soul like the rain had soaked her dress earlier. Was that all it was? Was she simply… available? Yet, if the rumors were true, then he need not search out feminine companionship. It sought
him
out…

“Miss Lottie?” Bethanny asked.

“Yes?”

“Are you well?” All three girls were watching her with various degrees of concern etching their beautiful faces.

“Forgive me, I was woolgathering.” Carlotta flushed at being so absorbed in her own misery that she frightened the girls. “What were you saying, Berty?”

“I was asking… that is, you’re still our governess, aren’t you? The duke, he wasn’t too mad at you for the picnic?” Berty asked, her question uncharacteristically observant.

“I’m still your governess. The duke spoke with me—” She swallowed, remembering far more than his words. “But have no fear, I’m not dismissed.”

“Good.” Beatrix nodded. “It wasn’t your fault anyway.”

“In a way, it is my dears. I’m to train you but also keep a sharp eye on you. I failed that charge.”

“But we all but ran away, maybe we should explain—” Bethanny began.

“No, it’s all over and done with. Let us all start fresh, shall we?” Carlotta put on her bravest smile as she reached for her napkin and placed it in her lap.

Yes, a fresh start for us all.

Throughout the course of dinner Carlotta found her gaze straying to the door. When a footman would enter to take away their soup bowl or lay out another dish, her heart would thump wildly. She was at war with herself, half of her wishing for the duke to appear and gaze at her with those delicious blue eyes, and half of her hoping that he didn’t show up at all.

As dinner ended and the duke didn’t appear, she decided that regardless, she got her wish. Though relieved, a part of her —traitorous that it was— wanted to see him, to gauge if anything had changed. As much as she tried to silence her heart, part of it hoped that maybe,
maybe
his quick dismissal after their kiss was his way of covering his own emotions, his own response. The kiss was quite spontaneous. It was highly doubtful he had premeditated it; therefore, it was natural to wonder if maybe he was as unsettled as she.

But she wasn’t to know, because he wasn’t to make an appearance.

“Come girls, let’s retire to the library to read for a spell before bed.” Carlotta rose and waited for the girls to follow suit. With a slight inclination of her head, she motioned to the door. The three girls filed out and walked quietly down the hall. Bethanny opened the large door for the rest of them then slipped in quietly, holding the latch so that when it shut, it was noiseless.

“You’re all very quiet,” Carlotta noted, her eyes narrowing with suspicion, then widening with concern. Were they feeling poorly? Were they sick? Perhaps the rain—

“We’re simply… tired,” Beatrix mumbled, sniffing.

“Oh. Well you are certainly able to retire if you wish,” Carlotta responded, carefully watching their expressions, evaluating the color of their skin, and searching for a cause for their strange behavior.

As she watched the girls, she saw a flicker of a glance, one that passed between Bethanny and Beatrix, which caused her to pause. It was just the type of glance she believed she would give in a conspiratorial manner if she had a sister. But she was an only child, so she simply stored away the thought to ponder on later. It wasn’t as if they could get into too much trouble.

She quickly amended her last thought. Judging by the fiasco earlier in the duke’s study, there was quite a bit of trouble they could find. Maybe she should follow them to bed.

“You know, I’m quite exhausted myself, I’ll follow—”

“No!” Beatrix shouted. She was promptly kicked by Bethanny.

“It’s just that—er—we don’t want to cause you further trouble,” Bethanny said softly. After a delicate pause, she took a few steps forward towards Carlotta. “We’ve caused enough trouble today. We can see to ourselves and you’ll surely enjoy a few moments of respite.” Bethanny’s wide eyes were full of innocent intentions, bottomless and guiltless.

The girl was a skilled liar.

But Carlotta allowed them their deception. If she asked them outright, they’d likely never admit to anything. But if she kept her eye on them, she’d easily uncover whatever folly they had planned. She only hoped it didn’t involve the duke. Heaven knew, she couldn’t deal with another scenario that would require her to speak with him in private.

Her heart would surely crack.

“Well, goodnight then, girls. That is, if you’re sure—”

“Very sure.” This from Beatrix, who nodded emphatically.

As if she needed further proof of something afoot, Beatrix needlessly provided it.

Bethanny ushered her sisters out the door, much to the outrage of Berty who was bitterly disappointed she was unable to stay up.

The room was quiet, too quiet. The grandfather clock ticked, the fire crackled and then, there was nothing else but the sound of her breathing. Truly she shouldn’t be so disturbed by the lack of noise. At Garden Gate it had often been quiet, especially following the deaths of her parents. With no siblings to run about with, she only had her household staff that cared for her, along with the governess she had dismissed upon reaching eighteen. The governess, who had upon her dismissal, run off to Gretna Green with the neighbor’s footman. But, in her defense, he was quite a handsome rogue. For all Carlotta knew, they were in Scotland still. Miss March was pleasant enough, but wasn’t one to expend extra energy on her charge. Apparently, she
had
spent her energy on the neighbor’s footman, however. While Carlotta wished her well, she felt no resentment at her actions or the distance at which she kept her charge. But that experience was why she felt such a need to build a relationship with Berty, Bethanny and Beatrix.

She’d never had someone do that for her.

And now, she found herself in the position
to
do just that. Regardless of the trouble they caused, either by their mysterious plotting, or inadvertent mishap, they would grow through their tragedy knowing they were loved.

Even if it were just by a governess.

****

Charles paced like a caged animal. At least ten times, he strode to the study door to open it then pulled his hand back as if the doorknob had grown teeth.

Then he’d pace back to his desk, pick up a few papers. Gaze at them, see absolutely nothing except for her face. After which, he’d march back to the door, only to have the whole bloody scenario repeat again and again.

He never once thought of himself as a coward. However, he was beginning to reevaluate his thoughts. What was it? He was the Duke of Clairmont! His reputation was the stuff of legends! He’d sampled the pleasures of many high profile courtesans and opera singers in the country, some even from
other
countries. He, who easily discouraged the pesky dandy with a simple scowl, was hiding behind his own study door because of a woman.

No, a virgin young lady.

Who wasn’t noble. Who was his governess.

Well, not
his
governess, his ward’s governess… but that made her under his employ and technically
his
governess as well… it got confusing after that. So he poured himself a glass of brandy, relishing the fiery trail it blazed to his stomach. He drained the glass, and promptly poured himself another.

As he sipped, he tried to think of a way that would let Carlotta know he was, well, what was he exactly? Sorry? No. He damn well wasn’t sorry about kissing her. That was quite possibly the most perfect kiss he’d experienced in some time. And he’d just insult her further if he said he was sorry. She’d take it all wrong. Being female, she’d think he regretted
her
. Which he did, but not in the way she thought. Or would think… or…

“What in the bloody hell happened to all the brandy?” he said to no one in particular, because he was alone.

A warm sensation began tingling in his toes, spreading to his other limbs before settling with its center in his belly. As a few minutes passed and he stared into the fire, he began to feel a bit more, able. Able to leave, that is. His study. He glanced about the room. Yes. That’s where he was. His stomach rumbled, and he tried to remember when he had last eaten. Noon? No…

“Hang it all.” He spoke to the fire. “Bloody governess. Coming in, waltzing in and stealing my… thoughts. Yes! My thoughts. I never was one to be so… unthoughtful,” he grumbled. “You know—” Again, he spoke to no one in particular. “—I don’t have to apologize! I’m a duke! I bloody well take what I want! I wanted a kiss. I took it. There. That’s the end. If I want another kiss, I’ll simply… well…” He realized with a wave of annoyance at himself, that though quite deep in his cups at this point, he was not
that
drunk to steal another kiss. Or take another kiss, or whatever had happened. At this point, it was all growing quite fuzzy. Perhaps if he were to eat dinner?

He glanced to the door then remembered he was trapped. Dinner. If he were to go to dinner, he’d see the governess.
Carlotta, Miss Lottie…
Miss Carlottie…
He shook his head. Blast and Damn.

He couldn’t bloody well starve.

It was his house after all; he had to leave his study sometime. With a fortifying breath and summoning the courage only a blasphemous amount of brandy could incite, he barreled through the door.

“Ah-ha!” He thrust his fist in the air in victory. He glanced back to the door. “You have been bested!” He pointed at the offending portal.