Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novel (22 page)

Unlike the other evening, she wasn’t awake when he returned. Hawkins, after taking his hat and coat, informed Michael that
Mrs. Cheltam had retired some hours ago, apparently not feeling that well.

Michael had to wonder how much he had to do with how she felt. Then immediately thought he heard Cheltam’s voice in his head—
Not everything is about you,
Hadlow
—only things generally
were
about him. But he couldn’t very well go wake her up, no matter how she was feeling, to tell her she had to reconsider his
proposal because he just didn’t think any other woman would do.

He waved Hawkins away and went into his study, pouring himself a large glass of brandy and walking to look out the window.

The street was empty and dark. If he were less pragmatic, he could say the same about his life. But he wouldn’t fall victim
to weak flights of fancy, not when he had so much to do. Such as propose marriage. Again.

For the first time perhaps ever, he wasn’t certain he could be persuasive enough. He took a healthy swallow of his brandy,
feeling the burn slide down his throat. She wasn’t impressed by his title—in fact, it was an impediment—and he knew her well
enough to know she wouldn’t settle just because he had enough money to support her. She’d done that with her last husband.
All he could offer her was what he had offered her before, plus his own stronger feelings on the subject.

She wasn’t going to say yes.

A sick feeling spread over him, made his skin prickle, and his insides tighten. He knew she would never say yes, not after
pointing out how his proposal was illogical because of who she was and what he was. How she wouldn’t be able to bear being
a duchess, and being whispered about. He wouldn’t care about the whispering—he never had—but she would. And if she cared,
he would end up caring as well.

But even so, he wasn’t going to compromise by offering marriage to anyone who wasn’t her.

He shrugged, finishing the glass. What did it matter if he was to be on his own for the rest of his life? He hadn’t found
the need to alter his circumstances until now, so there was no reason he should feel bereft. But he did.

Perhaps he should consider Cheltam’s advice to find a friend. If Miss Emily were a man, he could see being friends with her.
She was appropriately honest, intelligent, and possessed a dry wit he appreciated. But given his position, he wasn’t allowed
to be mere friends with a female—there would always be whispers, intimations of what he really intended. And if he didn’t
end up marrying her, she’d wind up with a tarnished reputation because he hadn’t found her worthy enough to propose to.

He found himself pouring another glass of brandy. And wishing he wasn’t so acutely aware of just why he felt so miserable.

“Mrs. Cheltam?” Hawkins stepped into the duke’s study and regarded her with an expectant air.

“Yes, Mr. Hawkins?” Edwina hadn’t slept well the night before, despite having taken herself to bed earlier than usual. She
could have blamed it on thinking about the work she’d done that day—she’d sent letters to all the engine companies, letting
them know of the duke’s final decision regarding investments—but she wasn’t going to lie to herself. And she wasn’t sick,
even though she’d allowed Hawkins to believe so. Unless being heartsick counted as actually being sick, which she doubted.

She’d noted the time the duke had returned home—well after midnight—and spent far longer than she should have contemplating
if he had met anyone who would pique his interest.

Hawkins cleared his throat. Right, she hadn’t replied yet. Because she was too immersed in her own thoughts, thoughts of the
duke and his future. Which would not include her.

“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins. If you will excuse me, Your Grace?” She didn’t wait for his reply but rose and walked out of the
study. Hawkins would have said if the visitor was her brother-in-law, so she wasn’t anxious about who it might be, merely
curious.

“The lady is in here, Mrs. Cheltam,” Hawkins said, opening the door to the library. Where she had danced with the duke that
evening.

Carolyn leaped to her feet as Edwina entered, a smile on her face.

“Good afternoon, Carolyn.” Edwina gave her friend a hug, then sat down on the sofa and beckoned to Carolyn to sit beside her.
“You must have something for me to make the visit. I hadn’t expected anything quite so soon, especially with Gertrude to consider.
But then again the agency is getting more well-known, so perhaps there are more positions open than I would have thought,
and—”

“You’re babbling,” Carolyn pointed out.

“Yes,” Edwina admitted. “So I am. Tell me what it is you came to say before I get a chance to babble again.”

“Well,” Carolyn said, reaching over to take Edwina’s hand, “it appears that I have found something for you, something where
Gertrude will be welcome also. The Dowager Countess of Feltington is in need of a companion. Her daughter lives with her as
well, a widow, and she has a daughter who also, it seems, is in need of companionship.”

“Why isn’t her daughter the dowager countess’s companion?”

Carolyn paused. “From what I understand, the daughter is a bit of a loose screw, and her mother is determined to watch over
her granddaughter, but also wants someone around who is trustworthy.”

“Ah. And where is the position?”

“Well out of London, nearly fifty miles to the west. There is no chance you will encounter the duke again.” Carolyn spoke
as though this was a good thing, which Edwina supposed it was, even though her heart felt even sicker at the thought of never
seeing him again.

She wished, not for the first time, that she was more willing to settle and had said yes when he’d asked. Only she knew that
that way inevitably led to unhappiness, as she would continue to love him, and he would continue not to love her, and likely
eventually grow bored of her.

“And Her Ladyship wants someone immediately, so the sooner you can get there, the better.”

“I don’t need to meet with her?”

Carolyn shook her head. “No, it’s all settled. I went ahead and accepted the position for you, the salary isn’t quite what
you are making here, but it is something that will be adequate for your needs.”

“Oh.” Edwina wished it didn’t hurt so much. And then wanted to smack herself. Because if it didn’t hurt so much she wouldn’t
have to leave in the first place.

“You are ready to leave, aren’t you?” Carolyn squeezed her hand.

“Of course. It is just sudden. I will need a few days to sort things out so I don’t leave the duke unprepared.”
And so I can prepare myself for never seeing him.

“I expected that, so I informed Her Ladyship you would arrive within the week. That will be sufficient time.”

At which Edwina wanted to protest—forever wouldn’t be sufficient time, but she couldn’t tell her friend that. She could scarcely
admit it to herself.

“Thank you,” she said instead. “Thank you so much for this; you cannot know what it means to me.”

Carolyn’s smile was wistful. “I do know, Edwina.” She patted Edwina’s hand. “I do.”

“Well?” The duke’s tone was impatient as Edwina returned to the room. It appeared that he’d been pacing since she’d left—his
chair was pushed carelessly back, his hair showed signs of having been raked through, and there was a wary gleam in his eye
that made her heart hurt.

“Well.” She raised her chin and took a deep breath. “My visitor was my friend Carolyn, the woman who runs the Quality Employment
Agency. She has found me another position, one which I will be taking straightaway.”

He strode to stand directly in front of her, so close she swore she could see the spark of anger in his gaze. “So this is
your solution? To leave me?”

His words were sharp, as was his expression. She shouldn’t have expected anything else; this was something he did not want,
since it would inconvenience him.

But he could find another secretary. She couldn’t find her heart again, not until she wasn’t near him anymore.

“It is not a solution,” she replied, concentrating on keeping her voice steady. “It is a necessity. I cannot stay here any
longer, not with—with—” and then she felt her eyes tickle as the tears started to well up. She could not cry. She could not.

“With us no longer being involved? That was your choice, not mine,” he said, his tone almost sounding hurt.

And apparently she could cry, because she realized the tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she was gulping, trying to
stop the flow as she looked anywhere but his face. Because if she looked at him, and there was a softening in his expression,
she might soften as well, and stay here, and be with him, even though she knew it was wrong.

Even though it would feel incredibly right. At least for the short term.

“So that is it then.” His tone was flat. Cold. “Can I”—and now his tone did sound softer, and she felt another rush of tears—“will
you give me one more night before you leave? Just one?”

The temptation was too much for her. Another chance to be in his arms, kiss him, have his full attention on her, and how she
felt, and how he could make her feel. It wouldn’t be so wrong, would it, if they both knew it was the last time? Forever?

She knew it was wrong, but she just couldn’t say no. “Yes.” She spoke in a whisper, but it appeared he heard it, since he
gripped her upper arms and drew her into his body, resting his chin on her head.

“Thank you.” Had he sounded cold before? Now he sounded passionate, earnest, thankful. Things she didn’t think he had ever
sounded like before.

“Not tonight, though,” she murmured. “Not until the last night. Just a few days from now.”

She felt his body stiffen. “So soon.”

“Yes.” Because even that time felt too long for her to stay here, with him, knowing he could never be hers, that she could
love him as much as she wanted to but he wouldn’t love her back.

He released her and put his finger under her chin, raising her face to his. His gaze was intense, so strong it felt as though
it might scorch her. Which was how she felt with him most of the time anyway—as though he could burn her with his intensity,
his touch.

He had burned her. She would never be the same after knowing him, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t recover. She would, but
she knew she would never be the same.

Michael urged his horse to go faster, even though he was already moving at a pace that was quicker than what was expected
of a gentleman’s ride in the park. He’d been seething with a fury he didn’t even understand himself since Cheltam had told
him she was leaving. How dare she? How dare she turn her back on what he offered her, knowing what they were together?

Thank God he’d gotten her promise for another night, because if he had to bid her goodbye without that—he didn’t know what
he’d do.

He’d never felt this—this
lost
before at the end of an affair. Of course he’d always been the one to end it before, so perhaps that was the cause of this
new, strange emotion. And Cheltam was different from any of the other women whom he’d had before. He would miss her. And her
daughter. Gertrude had been adamant about spending every possible moment she could with Chester, which meant by default she’d
been spending time with him—they’d taken to walking for an hour or two in the late afternoon, right after tea, and Michael
found he looked forward to their time together. Even if her conversation was primarily about what Chester was looking at,
and smelling, and doing other things to.

He’d gone out to a few more social events, where he always made sure he at least greeted Miss Emily, even though she couldn’t
be his friend, and he definitely did not want her as a wife. She amused him, at least, and it seemed he amused her. He danced
with a few under-lash fluttering debutantes, repressing his normally blunt opinions so he wouldn’t scare the ladies.

That was no way to be. It was far better to be on his own, he assured himself, than to have to compromise his viewpoints to
accommodate someone who couldn’t handle who he was, even though they were more than happy to accommodate what he was—namely,
a duke with wealth, lands, and responsibilities.

But the days were ticking by, and as long as she hadn’t changed her mind, tonight they would be together for one last time.
The last time. And she and Gertrude would leave tomorrow, and he would be on his own again, a duke without a secretary.

A man without a lover.

A man without a friend.

“You are all ready, Mrs. Cheltam?” Miss Clark glanced at the trunks Edwina had packed. Edwina had had to get an additional
one since the household staff had insisted on purchasing new toys for Gertrude and the duke had insisted she take the books
Gertrude had used for her studies. “It is not as though they will be useful after you’ve gone,” he said flatly. She’d nearly
opened her mouth to tell him that they could be useful if he had a wife, and had children, but she couldn’t; she knew her
heart would crack if she mentioned his future.

And now, tonight, she would be with him. One last time. The last time for her, she knew, since even if she healed, and her
heart eventually mended, she would never fall out of love with him, and she was done with compromising herself when it came
to her choice of partner. It would be enough that she’d had this love, albeit for a short period of time. She could concentrate
on raising Gertrude, and finding some measure of comfort in doing the right thing for her daughter. The right thing for her,
as well, even though it felt like absolutely the wrong thing right now.

“We are ready, yes, Miss Clark.” Carolyn had found a position for Gertrude’s governess, as well, and Miss Clark would be leaving
for her new post the day after Edwina and Gertrude had gone. Edwina hadn’t even thought of what their leaving would do to
Miss Clark, and she was grateful for Carolyn’s forethought.

“I will miss you,” Miss Clark said, a glint of moisture in her eyes. Edwina gathered the younger woman into her arms for a
hug, swallowing against the lump in her throat. Miss Clark was too young to have to deal with Edwina’s emotions—it wouldn’t
be fair to collapse in her arms just because she’d done the stupidest thing of falling in love with her employer.