What the Duke Wants by Kristin Vayden Read Free Book Online Page B

to himself. Though he knew the answer. English weather was unpredictable at best. It could have easily been beautiful an hour ago. With the many buildings and being so near the park, the trees also inhibited a view of the skyline, causing one to easily misjudge the conditions. Often a rain-filled cloud was just beyond the line of sight. But surely she could have made her way home after the first few raindrops!
    “Here, your grace.” Murray came in the library with Charles’ greatcoat, gloves, and hat. After quickly donning them, he rushed out into the hall and out the front door to his awaiting carriage. The springs rocked under his weight as he entered into the cab and waited for the driver to urge the horses forward.
    The clip clop of the matched bays’ shoes sounded on the cobbled streets of Mayfair, and soon the large park was in sight. Rotten Row was deserted, puddles of mud making it not only dangerous but also filthy for the next few days. The rain veritably pounded on the roof of the carriage and made visibility short sighted. The heavy cloying fragrance of rain and humidity hung in the air, making it thick.
    After taking several paths, he tapped on the roof, causing the driver to halt the horses. There just under a weeping beech, or upside down tree, stood four women clustered together.
    “Damn females,” Charles swore and opened the carriage door. Immediately he was in the deluge of rainwater and quickly became soaked to the skin.
    He half jogged, half walked across the ground, his boots sinking in the soggy grass. As he reached the tree, he held out his hand to the soaked girls and sodden governess.
    “Don’t just stand there! Let’s get going before we all catch our death!” Charles shouted.
    Not needing any more encouragement, all four ladies ran to the closed carriage and tumbled in. Charles followed suit. Once all were seated, the carriage moved forward towards his home.
    “Would anyone care to tell me whose brilliant idea it was to have a picnic in the park?” Charles asked as a rivulet of water trickled down his nose and dripped off, landing on his folded hands.
    The girls all glanced to the floor, their little bodies shivering from cold and wet. Charles had an unfamiliar pang of sympathy.
    “It was mine, your grace,” Carlotta replied, her head held high and jaw clenched in defiance. Or perhaps it was clenched in cold.
    “I see. That wasn’t your most brilliant of plans, Miss Lottie.” Charles’ words were light, but his tone was menacing.
    “I would think that quite apparent, your grace,” Carlotta replied curtly.
    Good. Thought Charles. Let her be upset, let her feel the frustration she’d caused him earlier! He glared at Carlotta.
    “Thank you, your grace.” Berty’s unusually quiet voice broke through his vindictive musings.
    “Oh, well. Of course…” Charles responded, his brow creasing.
    “Yes, thank you, your grace,” Bethanny and Beatrix murmured together, they glanced up then dropped their gazes once more.
    At once, the anger burning in Charles’ chest was doused like a fire caught in the rain. Unable to resist baiting his pretty governess, he allowed a mischievous grin to twist his lips. Raising his eyebrows expectantly, he tilted his head as he held her steady gaze, waiting for her gratitude as well.
    “Yes. Thank you,” Carlotta obliged him, her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and he fancied that it was more from his expectant behavior and arrogant nature than true gratitude.
    “It’s of no matter. We’ll be back shortly and I’ll have Mrs. Pott bring you some hot tea.”
    “Thank you, your grace.” Carlotta spoke again, this time her tone was softer, full of gratitude.
    Charles turned his gaze back towards her. She offered him a repentant smile then lowered her gaze to her lap, studying her soiled and sodden gloves as she fidgeted.
    Her lashes were spiked from the rain, making them darker and fuller against the pale glow of her skin. She worried her lower