Page 76 of To Seduce a Stranger

He led her through the unfamiliar house that was to have been hers. In a small study, which must adjoin the duke’s private chambers, Robert sat in his dressing gown perusing a freshly pressed newspaper. “Have I not made myself clear, Aimes?” he said without looking up. “I do not wish to be disturbed in this room.”

The answering sound that issued from Aimes—an attempt, Charlotte thought, to clear his throat, though it sounded as if the man had tied his cravat too tightly—at last caused Robert to lift his eyes.

She had succeeded in catching him off guard, at least, though he recovered quickly. He flicked a dismissive hand in Aimes’s direction, causing the butler to scuttle from the room. He did not rise.

“Well, well. So you’ve decided to come out of hiding.”

“I was not hiding,” Charlotte said, thinking of Tessie. “I was surviving. How dare you set men to watch me, to follow me, to hunt me.”

Robert pressed four fingers to his chest. “I? I did no such thing. I was quite worried for your safety. I offered a suitable recompense if anyone could supply any . . . reassuring information.”

“Information useful to your suit, you mean.”

When he lowered his hand and smoothed his palm over the newspaper, his father’s signet ring winked. She was not deceived by the calmness of his movements. “Why have you come, Charlotte?”

“To ask you to drop your suit. For your father’s sake,” she added, though it seemed futile to try to prick his conscience. She had seen few signs of mourning in the house. “I am not so naïve as to imagine you would do it for mine.”

At last he stood and moved two steps closer. “And I suppose in exchange you’ll give up your claim on my father’s estate,” he sneered.

“Yes.”

She watched as he absorbed the word. His lips parted, his eyes widened, and some of his sneer melted away. “Yes?”

Refusing to repeat what she knew he had heard, she simply met his still-contemptuous gaze with a steady one of her own.

It was confirmation enough.

In a series of quick movements, he brought pen, ink, and paper from his desk and rang the bell for his valet, who was instructed to fetch Aimes. When Robert handed her the quill, she scratched out a few words and began to sign her name.

“Wait.”

Once the servants had been assembled as witnesses to her signature, she gave it, then handed the paper to Robert. Once the butler and the valet had been dismissed, he held the document up to the window for more light by which to study her words. “Yes,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “Yes, I think this will serve.”

How could dear, sweet George’s child be so greedy? But fathers and sons were not always cut from the same cloth.

Edward was proof of that.

“I did not marry your father for his money, Robert.”

“Mm?” He did not lift his eyes from the all-important paper. She doubted he was even listening. But after a moment, he asked, “Why, then?”

“Because he cared. About me. Had he been a ditch-digger instead of a duke, I could not have refused his offer. But that was not the most important gift he gave me.”

Those words caught Robert’s attention. “Something not in the will?”

She almost laughed. “No. Something quite intangible. He believed I deserved happiness.” Beneath her glove, she twisted her wedding band. Amore digna. Worthy of love. “I realize now, he was trying to teach me to believe it, too. And I do. Now, you have what you wanted, so call off your dogs. Leave me in peace.”

Then she turned and marched from the room, wondering as the door latched behind her if he would accede to that simple wish.

In the entryway, Aimes held the door, then followed her to her waiting cab. “I was honored to serve the late duke, Your Grace. May I make so bold as to offer my condolences?”

“Thank you, Mr. Aimes.” She dropped her black veil back into place.

“I understood Blakemore House was to be your home.”

“No.”

“Ah.” Aimes bowed and opened the carriage door. “Then I am sorry for that, too, ma’am.”