“Forgive us, but this is soon to be Nellie’s home. I feel she should familiarize herself with it.” Charles escorted her from the room.
Stunned into silence, Nellie accompanied him upstairs. Surely it was bad manners to desert his guests, and it seemed most unlike him.
He threw open a pair of doors and led her inside. “The duchess’s apartment.”
Nellie’s gaze went straight to the wide bed draped in deep red brocade. Her face hot, she was very much aware of Charles’s proximity. Would he sleep with her there or just visit her? She found she didn’t want to spend her nights alone.
“If the furnishings are not to your liking, you must change them,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.
While certainly luxurious, the décor was too heavy for her taste, the walls papered in a magenta and gold silk, the windows draped with the dark red brocade. “It’s beautiful, but I would prefer something lighter, floral, perhaps.”
“Flowers?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking amused. “You expect me to sleep in a room filled with flowers?”
Pleased that he would sleep with her, she laughed. “I shall bear that in mind when choosing wallpaper.”
Charles took her elbow and led her across the soft carpet. He gestured to a gilt and white paneled door. “Your boudoir.”
He opened another door. The room beyond was both elegant and comfortable. A handsome mahogany desk and chair were placed near the window. “This is your sitting room.” He gestured. “That door leads to my bedchamber, and beyond is my valet’s room.”
“I shall enjoy writing at that desk.” She crossed the carpet to admire the fine piece of furniture. “Oh, there is a charming view of the garden.”
“Nellie.” He came to take her hands, clasping them in his big warm ones. “When you walked in earlier, I thought you seemed upset. Is it something to do with the wedding? I know it seems a little rushed. Becoming a duchess might be a little daunting, but you are the daughter of a marquess. You were brought up to make a marriage such as this.” His intense eyes searched hers. “If there’s something else, will you tell me about it?”
Drusilla seemed to stand between them, almost like a physical presence. Nellie had a moment of panic. “Eliza and Nathaniel have had a dreadful argument. She has left him and returned to the country with their daughter.” She could not bring herself to talk to him about Nat’s unfaithfulness. And nothing about her other concerns.
“Is it serious? Your expression suggests it is.”
“Nat has left London to follow her. They may not return for our wedding. I hope you won’t be offended should they fail to attend.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Of course not. Married couples have disagreements. We will, too, I am sure.”
Of course they would. But even so, his words disturbed her.
“It’s upsetting to hear about them, but why this?” He lightly traced the faint line between her brows with a finger. “It seems a little excessive for a family quarrel. They will work out their differences. I hope when we’re married, you will confide in me.”
“I want no secrets between us, Charles.” She gazed over his shoulder, unwilling to meet his eyes. She kept something from him, and he was astute enough to sense it. But didn’t he have one or two of his own? Or was it a woman’s role to turn a blind eye to them. Well, she would not. If she discovered Charles had a mistress, knowing herself, she would not run away as Eliza had done. She would confront him, despite her mother’s advice to never question a man’s fidelity. “Some men are unfaithful, Nellie,” she’d said this afternoon. “One must accept it. A lady never displays those concerns in public.”
“Nellie?”
“Yes, Charles?”
She turned away from examining a fine oil painting of some rustic scene on the paneled wall. She couldn’t have described what was in it had he asked her.
Tilting her chin up, Charles forced her to look at him. “Why did you ask me to kiss you at the soiree?”
Her heart hammered. “It was merely an impulse. Did you mind?”
He gave a short laugh and dropped his hand. “Well, perhaps it’s best not to examine the reason too closely, for that might spoil the mystery. It’s not something I’ve done, stealing such a kiss when the ton was on the other side of the door.”
“Never, Charles?” She was empowered by the thought that she might surprise him and get the better of Drusilla and other women like Amanda Forrester, who watched him like hawks watched their prey. Even the French mistress if she had to.
Charles moved closer. When his dark head bent toward her, she stilled, waiting for him to reach for her, wanting him to. The heated look in his eyes told her he desired her.
“Never,” he murmured and traced a thumb over her bottom lip. For a moment, the only noise in the room was a clock clicking somewhere, and her heartbeat in her ears.
Charles broke eye contact and stepped away. “Everyone will wonder what happened to us. Perhaps we should remove ourselves from further temptation and return downstairs.”
Absurdly disappointed, Nellie walked through the door he held open for her.
She took his arm to descend the stairs. Women didn’t live by the same rules as men, and if she ever had to fight for him, well then, she would.
At the end of the evening, Nellie joined her parents in their town carriage. “I did warm to Jason and Beverly,” she said.
Jason had been amusing company. He had imbued the occasion with gentle humor during dinner, and at one point, had them all laughing, including her father, who was not easily amused. She and Beverly were instantly at ease with each other, and she felt sure they would become good friends. Charles, on the other hand, had become rather thoughtful. He’d sat back and allowed Jason to entertain them.
Why hadn’t Charles kissed her? Surely the temptation was difficult for him
