Hugh's expression could have been set in stone. "That was long ago."

"Only a few years, I believe." The duke's smile was filled with malice. "Regardless, I was on my way to join the rest of the party, and I don't wish to hold up the proceedings. Congratulations, Montrose. Charlotte. I'll await your missive detailing where I should direct Charlotte's pension. Also, since you won't require the manse anymore, I'll make arrangements to sell it." Glenmoore walked away, leaving destruction in his wake.


Hugh was so furious for a moment, he could hardly think. When Gwen collided with him on the stairs and blurted that her father had cornered Charlotte, the rage he'd felt had almost overwhelmed him. If he had any doubts earlier about his feelings for his paramour, he didn't any longer.

"You should never have told Glenmoore we were affianced!" Charlotte groaned. "He will mention our engagement to someone just to embarrass you. This is a disaster."

Hugh stepped closer to offer comfort. She was frighteningly pale, her mouth and eyes rimmed with lines of tension.

Trying for levity, he placed a hand over his heart and gave an exaggerated sigh. "You know, a man could be irreparably damaged by such a response to his proposal."

She flinched. "We must go down and correct this mistake. Whatever will your family say when they hear of this?"

Hugh tapped a finger to his chin. "Congratulations?" he suggested.

"You are impossible. Lady Julienne warned me that you were known for being irresponsible and jumping into situations headfirst. I had no notion what she was talking about until now." She attempted to pass him, and he sidestepped into her path. "Hugh, the guests will gossip if we hold up the meal."

"Perhaps, but it won't be too untoward in this company." At her raised brow, he explained. "Julienne and Remington have been relegated to the fringes of Society for years. Only the most daring and licentious of guests will deign to associate with them. Glenmoore attended only because he wishes to enter into a partnership with Remington, who has the devil's own luck when it comes to making money."

She tilted her head back to look at him, her entire body tense and expectant, like a bird prepared to take flight. Hugh's heart sank to his stomach. She didn't look even remotely like a woman pleased with an offer of marriage.

A sick feeling of dread pooled and then hardened in his gut. "Don't you think we should discuss my proposal?"

Charlotte stumbled backward, her eyes wide and stricken. "Good heavens, you weren't serious!"

Hugh moved toward her, his heart racing in near-panic. "You were afraid my affections would be temporary. You worried I would cast you aside and leave you and your menagerie destitute. I've resolved that. As my wife, your comfort will be assured."

She shook her head. "We hardly know one another."

"I think we know each other very well." He stepped closer and reached for her hand, which she didn't raise to meet his. "Don't you care for me, Charlotte?" he asked softly. "Even a little?"

Her fingers tightened on his. "Of course I care for you, Hugh, very much. But…"

"I searched for you all afternoon."

"You did?" She began to tremble.

"I did." Lifting her hand, he held it to his cheek, despising the glove that separated his skin from her touch. "I needed to find you, to warn you about Glenmoore, but you kept moving, and I could never catch you. I was quite desperate for you, actually."

"Hugh…"

He nuzzled into her palm. "I waited in your room for nearly an hour. Where did you go after you left the stables?"

"I-I was in Julienne's room."

"Ahh… I was sick with worry. I couldn't bear to think of you facing Glenmoore alone."

"Oh, Hugh…" Her fingers curled, cupping his cheek. "I am accustomed to caring for myself."

He leaned into her touch, the warmth of which burned through her glove and heated his blood. No other woman had ever affected him as Charlotte did. "There is no weakness in relying on someone to assist you and care for you. The only weakness is in allowing yourself to suffer when support is at hand."

Beloved green eyes swam with tears. "But I cannot rely on you, Hugh. I do not know you well enough. Just in the last half hour, I've learned things about you that have shocked and disturbed me, not just from Glenmoore, but from your sister as well."

Raw pain, piercing and wounding, cut him to the quick. His eyes slid closed. "Please don't say that," he murmured hoarsely, pulling her against him, needing the physical closeness, because he felt her withdrawing. "Don't judge me by my past."

"There is more at stake here than just you and me, Hugh. You'll regret this rash proposal later. I am not a suitable wife for you. The burden of those I bring with me will begin to weigh on you. You will come to resent me and then hate me. I lack the breeding to be a proper countess. You would-"

Hugh covered her mouth with a kiss, cutting off her words. Her lips melted into his, and he groaned, pressing his advantage, his hands stroking her back until she opened with a whimper. She returned his ardor in equal measure, kissing him as if it were the last time, as if they never would again. Her arms lifted, her small hands cupping the nape of his neck, holding him close. The lush, ripe mouth that he loved so much moved feverishly under his, forcing his desire to rise up to match his anger and fear, then far surpassing both.

Pulling away, he rested his damp forehead against hers. "What are you afraid of?" he asked softly. "Being abandoned or discarded? I'm not Glenmoore. I won't take all that you are or all that you have, and leave you with nothing."

"M'm not afraid."

"You are. Afraid to trust. Afraid to hope. Afraid to love."

"Hugh-"

"Have I disappointed you, Charlotte? Have I promised you something and then not delivered?"

"Not yet, but-"

"Not ever. You either trust me to support you, trust me to be a good husband, to love you and care for you… You either trust me, or you don't."

She melted against him, her slight weight necessary and welcome. He hugged her close, squeezing her, until there was no space between them. He held his breath, waiting.

"Please understand," she begged. "I am responsible for the care of Gwen and the others. My decisions must be made with my head, not my heart."

He recoiled as the import of her words struck home. "You refuse me." His voice was a pained whisper, his heart aching as he stepped away. Her touch, which he had been longing for, was suddenly painful.

Hugh struggled to control his breathing, unsure of what he could do or say to erase the tormented look he saw in Charlotte's eyes. There was sadness there, a deep well of it. Her gaze said good-bye as surely as her kiss had.

It was then he realized there was nothing he could say. Her fear was too powerful. Even with an offer of marriage, she still couldn't trust him. Shaking his head, he turned away, his throat clenched tight. He strode down the hall, suddenly anxious to be away from her and the cloying agony that twisted inside him.

"Wait!" she cried after him. "Please don't go. Not like this."

He knew she would chase him down as she had before, so he lengthened his stride. Hugh left her and the wondrous dream of happiness far behind him. He didn't look back. He couldn't.

He loved her too much.

Chapter Nine

"I miss Lord Montrose." Gwen dropped her cards on the table.

"Pick those up," Charlotte scolded. "I can see your hand."

"I'm no longer in the mood to play. Where is he? I haven't seen him in two days. I inquired after him with Lady Julienne, and she said only that he was 'about.' What does that mean?" Releasing a deep sigh, Charlotte set down her cards and leaned back in her chair. Tired and abjectly miserable, she hadn't been interested in playing anyway. She'd suggested the game in an attempt to cheer Gwen, who was taking Hugh's absence almost as hard as she was. "It means he doesn't wish to be found, Gwen."

Blue eyes narrowed. "What did you do, Charlotte?"

"What did I do? Why is his behavior my fault?"

"I may be young and naive, but I'm not stupid. The duke is strolling about, puffed up like a rooster, and you glance away whenever Lord Montrose is mentioned."

Charlotte swallowed hard. Part of her hoped every moment that Hugh would walk into the room just so she could see him with her own eyes and assure herself that he was well. The other part of her dreaded such an event, knowing how badly she had wounded him. Her heart ached every moment. "Mrs. Riddleton."

Glancing up, Charlotte's eyes widened at the sight of Lord Merrick. Tall and radiating savagery barely restrained, he was intimidating, with his long, black hair and intense blue gaze. Standing in the parlor full of women, his presence was overwhelming.

"Lord Merrick." Her heart leapt into a faster rhythm, knowing the only reason the earl would seek her out would be related to Hugh.

Gesturing to one of the two empty chairs, he asked, "May I? I won't take up too much of your time."

"Certainly, my lord."

He settled his powerful frame into the seat and clasped his hands in his lap. "Lord Montrose has shared your map and other items with me, Mrs. Riddleton."

Charlotte's hand went to her throat. "He did?"

"Yes, he did. Lady Merrick and I travel to the West Indies at the end of every Season to visit with her father. Lord Montrose has asked that I take you with us on the journey next year, and he has provided enough funds to retain a large expedition for the search. He's also spoken with Lord Glenmoore and made arrangements for you to continue to have use of the residence here in Derbyshire."