The Duchess

Charlotte grimaced, holding her hat to her head in a death grip, as the wind threatened to blow it away. She could see the muscular figure of her fiance, slowly making his way across the rolling gardens of Branburn, where she and her family sat on a picnic blanket. Honestly, Charlotte had not understood why they had needed to come and stay with the duke so soon before the wedding. There was still nearly two and a half weeks left. She would have much preferred to stay at an inn- or better yet at home. Already, the duke ordered her around like she was his wife, making decisions for her as if her plainness prevented her from having an ounce of intelligence. Her patience was beginning to wear thin.

Already, he had promised Countess Margot Landon, that she would have tea with her as soon as she was married and pronounced a duchess. Although Charlotte had only had the pleasure of meeting the Countess once, she had already grown to strongly dislike the old widow. The woman’s favorite pastime was gossiping with the other widows in the social circles she floated among. Silly as it sounded, she had the power to make or break your reputation, Charlotte was not so stupid as to risk crossing the woman.

Once the duke finally reached them, he swept into a short bow. “I must apologize for my lateness, I had business that kept me.”

“Oh no need to apologize your grace!” Her mother cried, smiling and fanning herself. “We’ve only just arrived ourselves.”

That was a lie. They had been sitting on the hard ground with only a quilt for comfort for nearly an hour. Not for the first time, Charlotte reflected on how silly society’s rules really were. If they had informed the duke that they had been waiting for nearly an hour, it would have been considered rude, never mind that the duke had been the one to keep them waiting. He was probably visiting that little opera singer of his, she thought spitefully.

Sighing softly, she leaned back, for once not caring an ounce that her posture was very slouched. She smoothed her blue gingham skirts, arranging them so that they fell prettily around her. She could use all the help she could get, she thought grimly. Seeing her distorted reflection in that of a crystal pitcher, she pondered on her plain looks. When she had been a debutante, the only thing that had kept men chasing her skirts had been her immense dowry that had been the stuff of legend. Of course, that had been before her father had died and left them with mountains of debt.

Then, it had not occurred to her that it was her dowry that had men chasing after her, not her looks or personality. For a few sweet short years, she had believed that it had been her that the men were enchanted with, not her fortune. The truth had been bittersweet, once the secret had been leaked and she was no longer the belle of the ball. It had been a miracle that her engagement with the duke had been kept, she thought, sneaking at look at him. He sat across from her, the picture of ease. She was lucky, at least he was not an ugly old man. But was that really a good enough consolation prize in place for his horrid personality? He was terribly cold and Charlotte knew that he would always hold a grudge against her for getting in the way of his relationship with that prima donna, who was much prettier than her.

“Charlotte darling,”

She looked up to see all eyes on her and her mother staring at her with slightly concerned eyes. Despite all the attention making a light blush on her face, she was used to a similar situation happening often. Her mother called her the most pensive person she had ever met, and her thoughts often distracted her from what was currently going on.

“Yes mother?”

Her mother, realizing that Charlotte had had her head in the clouds once again, cast her a sharp glance. “Are you not hungry?”

Charlotte looked down at the elaborate feast before her. I couldn’t eat if I tried, she realized. She did feel slightly sick to her stomach after thinking over everything with her fiance. She shook her head softly.

“No mother,” She replied softly. “I am feeling slightly under the weather.”

Her mother laid a gloved hand on her arm. “Perhaps you should go and lie down,”

Her eyes met the duke’s ice blue ones and for a moment she was enchanted by their intense stare. He would be much easier to hate if he was not so handsome. Rising slightly, she shook her head. “No, I had rather not. I think I shall take a turn around the gardens. If it is all right with you of course,” Charlotte said, directing the last statement at the duke.

“Yes, of course,” The duke replied, rising from his own seat. “I believe I shall join you, a walk around the gardens does sound refreshing.”

Mentally groaning, Charlotte accepted his outstretched arm, resting her small gloved hand in the crook of his strong arm. For a moment, Charlotte fantasized that they were a very much in love couple, going out for a romantic stroll around the gardens. She quickly dismissed the thought. It was purely ridiculous.

After they had walked someways, and were deep in the gardens and out of her family’s sight, the duke finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

“I must confess to you Ms. Brandon,” He began, stopping his walking and turning to her with his hands crossed behind his back. “I rarely feel remorse when I have committed a crime against someone.”

Charlotte was silent for a moment, thinking of what to say. “Surely not,”

Even she could sense the utter sarcasm in her voice. She blushed, she had not meant for it to sound that obvious. Instead of reacting in anger like she had thought he would, he simply smirked, letting out a short chuckle.

“Forgive me, Ms. Brandon,” He said. “I had not taken you for the sardonic sort.”

“Forgive me, I had not meant to sound like so.” Charlotte replied, demurely keeping her eyes away from his face.

Letting out another short chortle, he turned to around so that his back was facing her before speaking again. “I choose to not think of myself as an ignorant person Ms. Brandon. I am well aware of the fact that you trailed behind me in opera house.”

He turned back around to face her, the want for a reply evident in his face, but Charlotte was at a loss for words. She had believed that he had not been aware of her following him. Anger was evident on his face, but it was the calm, controlled sort of anger. It scared her worse than if he had lashed out and hit her.

“And what exactly do you think you saw?”

She hid her clenched fists in the folds of her gown. “I know what I saw, your grace. I do not have any doubts about what I saw.”

He looked at her, an amused look mixing with angry look on his face. It infuriated her that he treated her as if she was a child. “And what exactly was it that you know you saw, Ms. Brandon?”

“Enough to make clear that your relationship with Ms. Haydens is not purely that of an admirer or a friend.” She stared up at him, channeling her best defiant look.

“I’ve not come here to make excuses or apologies,”

“I do not expect you to,” She replied icily.

He smiled bitterly. “Good, then we understand each other. I have come to make you a deal, Ms. Brandon.”

He gestured toward one of the nearest of the many stone benches that littered the garden, she sunk gracefully onto it. He stayed standing, resuming his pacing with his hands behind his back.

“I do not expect anything out of this marriage other than your loyalty and a male heir to inherit my title. That is all I ask of you, Ms. Brandon. I do not expect you to wait anxiously for my return from a trip or even to attempt to mimic the actions of that of a good wife. I do not believe that is to much to ask of you.” She let out an involuntary snort. “Forgive me Ms. Brandon, but what have I said that amuses you so greatly?”

Gathering her courage, she replied without meeting his eyes. “Who are you to ask that I maintain loyalty to you, while I am perfectly aware that you will continue to see Ms. Haydens?”

He stared at her for a long moment, obviously decidedly shocked by her sudden outburst of courage. He had clearly not expected the docile child-like Charlotte to even cry out against his unjust demands.

“You accuse me of being a hypocrite then?”

She paused for a moment, swallowing. “I suppose I am. How can you expect me to maintain loyalty to you while you run around with that-that loose woman?”

Suddenly, he came towards her, grabbing both of her arms tightly. “If I were you I would watch what I say Ms. Brandon. There is a side of me you have not yet had the pleasure of meeting and I, as well as you, do not wish for you to meet him.”

She squirmed in his iron grip, but found her tries useless. And really, his nearness was making her very uncomfortable. It caused a fluttering in her stomach, and a flush to come upon her face. She really needed to get away from his closeness.

“You find offense when I speak ill of Ms. Haydens, but you found none when she spoke ill of me!” Charlotte cried. When he did not reply, she went on. “I won’t fancy that you love me, your grace, however I am your fiance and you should find offense if somebody insults me.”

He smirked. “So you are saying that I should challenge a duel for your honor at the slightest insult to it?”

Flustered, she replied. “Of course not! I only mean that-”

He interrupted her. “Of course you mean what you said.”

“I didn’t!” She protested. “And you know good and well that I could break our engagement at any time. I-”

He intervened again. “But you won’t. As I told you before Ms. Brandon, I am not an ignorant man. I familiar with your family’s predicament.”

She glared at him. So he was going to hold that over her head. Why, he was just a cold, calculating and manipulating man. How could she ever bear to be married to such a horrible man.
“Let’s face it, Ms. Brandon, without our marriage your family will be sent to the poorhouse.”

“What do you know of it?” She replied sharply. She tossed her hair. “There are other men in the world.”

He looked at her with an amused smirk on his face. “With your prospects and features? I hardly think that anyone would chase after your skirts.”

“Do you think because I am so plain that I have no feelings?!” She cried, outraged. “That you can domineer over me because of it? That you have the authority to speak to me in such a manner as you have?”

Finally, she ripped herself from his arms, gathering her skirts. Turning to walk away, she opened her mouth to speak, before closing it firmly. She would not give him the satisfaction.