Stolen by the Cursed Duke (Stolen by the Duke #3)

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

“ D o try to smile, Charlotte. You’ll look quite the grumpy fiancée if you persist with that dour expression,” Lady Shelton muttered.

The grand ballroom at the house they were visiting shimmered with the light of a thousand candles, their glow reflected in the polished marble floors and gilded mirrors.

The air was heavy with the mingling scents of perfume, champagne, and anticipation.

Charlotte had attended countless such gatherings in her life, but tonight, the weight of her circumstances made her feel like an intruder in her own world.

Her mother looked resplendent in a deep crimson gown as she fussed over her daughter’s appearance with whispered instructions as they entered.

Charlotte forced her lips into a semblance of a smile though her heart was anything but light.

It had been two days since she learned of her fiancé and had been locked in her room. She wasn’t as pleased to be out as she thought she might be.

As they stepped farther into the room, the string quartet’s lively music seemed to fade into the background, overtaken by the hum of conversation and laughter.

And then, she saw him.

Across the room, dressed in impeccably tailored black and leaning casually against a marble pillar, was the Duke of Thornvale.

His dark eyes locked onto hers the moment she stepped into view, his expression unreadable but unrelenting. The intensity of his gaze hit her like a physical blow, and Charlotte froze, her breath catching in her throat.

Why is he here?

She couldn’t look away. Her pulse quickened, and the room seemed to narrow until it was just the two of them, locked in this silent, electrifying stare.

The memory of his rough hands, his commanding voice, and the way he had made her feel—infuriated, exhilarated, and alive—flooded back with startling clarity.

The noise of the ballroom rushed back all at once when Charlotte forced herself to break their gaze, her heart pounding as she turned to face the crowd. She wasn’t sure if it was shame, anger, or something far more dangerous that twisted in her chest.

“Ah, my darling fiancée,” came a voice far too close for comfort.

Charlotte turned to see Lord Kinfield approaching, his polished smile a mockery of warmth.

He took her hand and kissed it, his lips cold and dry against her skin. “You are a vision, as always.”

She suppressed a shudder, masking her distaste with polite neutrality. “Lord Kinfield,” she said, her tone measured.

“Lord Kinfield!” Lady Shelton exclaimed, her face lighting up as though they were dear old friends. “How wonderful to see you this evening.”

“The pleasure is entirely mine, Lady Shelton,” Lord Kinfield replied smoothly, bowing low. “And Lord Shelton, as always, a delight to be in your company.”

Charlotte’s father gave a curt nod, his tone clipped but polite. “Kinfield. Good to see you.”

“And of course,” Kinfield continued, turning his gaze to Charlotte with a polished smile, “your daughter looks radiant tonight. A true credit to your fine lineage.”

“Doesn’t she?” Lady Shelton said, her tone dripping with pride. “I must say, we are quite lucky to have such a devoted gentleman courting her. It’s been so long since I have seen her truly admired.”

Charlotte kept her expression neutral though her stomach churned.

“Ah, Lady Shelton,” Kinfield said, laughing softly, “it is I who am the fortunate one. Lady Charlotte has captivated me utterly as I’m sure you understand.”

Lord Shelton cleared his throat. “Well, it’s a fine match all around. Good family, stable future. What more could a father ask for?”

“Indeed,” Kinfield agreed, his chest puffing slightly. “A union between our families will be most beneficial. I dare say, Lady Shelton, your taste is impeccable.”

Lady Shelton inclined her head graciously. “Why, thank you, Lord Kinfield. Though I must say, my husband has had a hand in all this. His practicality and foresight have been invaluable.”

“Of course,” Kinfield said with a deferential nod. “The dowries and estates, I trust, will be handled with the utmost efficiency. I do hope we can finalize everything smoothly.”

“Everything is well in hand,” Lord Shelton assured him. “We’ve taken all the necessary steps to ensure a seamless transition. These matters are, after all, a reflection of a family’s reputation.”

Charlotte’s grip on her fan tightened as the conversation swirled around her. She felt like a painting hanging on the wall—admired for its surface beauty but ignored for anything deeper.

“Your engagement will be the talk of the season, my dear,” Lady Shelton said, her tone bright with satisfaction. “Lord Kinfield has been quite the devoted suitor, wouldn’t you agree, Charlotte?”

Charlotte’s smile felt brittle.

“Devoted, indeed,” she murmured though the words tasted like ash.

What had he truly done other than court her parents?

Kinfield’s expression turned smug as he straightened his already-perfect cravat.

“I am nothing if not attentive to those I value most, Lady Charlotte. And once we are married, I shall ensure you want for nothing.”

Charlotte forced another tight-lipped smile. He was handsome in an artificial way, his features too precise, too carefully curated.

There was no warmth in his eyes, no genuine kindness in his words—only vanity and self-importance.

The thought of a lifetime tethered to such a man made her throat tighten.

As they spoke, her gaze drifted across the room. She found the Duke of Thornvale again, still leaning against the pillar, watching her.

His expression was harder now, darker. Possessive, almost. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks burning.

Just as Lord Kinfield launched into another self-congratulatory anecdote, Charlotte caught sight of a familiar figure approaching—a figure she was profoundly relieved to see.

“Ah, there you are, my darling granddaughter,” came the commanding yet warm voice of Lady Clifton as she stepped gracefully into their small group.

Her silver hair was coiffed to perfection, and her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint that only Charlotte seemed to notice.

“And my, what a tiresome display this is,” she added.

“Mother,” Lady Shelton said, her voice tightening, “how lovely of you to join us.”

“Yes, lovely indeed,” Lady Clifton said dryly, her gaze sliding over Kinfield with barely concealed disdain. “And who is this?” she asked, feigning ignorance as her sharp eyes flicked over his immaculate attire and puffed chest.

“Lady Clifton, may I present Lord Kinfield,” Charlotte said dutifully though her voice broke as she said the words. “My… fiancé.”

“Ah,” Lady Clifton said, raising a thin brow. “So, this is the fellow.”

Kinfield bowed deeply, his perfect smile faltering just slightly under Lady Clifton’s piercing scrutiny.

“An honor to meet you, Lady Clifton. I have heard much of your travels and influence.”

“Have you?” Lady Clifton said, her tone flat. “I find that difficult to believe. My interests rarely align with those of society’s dandies.”

She gave him a slow, deliberate look up and down, her lips twitching as though she were suppressing a laugh.

Kinfield cleared his throat, his composure slipping further. “Well, I?—”

“Oh, I have no doubt you’re terribly busy, Lord Kinfield,” Lady Clifton interrupted, her attention already shifting to Charlotte. “Come along, my dear. The garden beckons, and I find myself in desperate need of fresh air. This ballroom is dreadfully stuffy.”

Charlotte’s heart lifted at the invitation, but before she could respond, her mother cut in.

“Charlotte must remain here, Mother. She has her duty to socialize, particularly as Lord Kinfield’s fiancée.”

Lady Clifton turned a cool gaze on her daughter, her smile both sweet and cutting. “I wasn’t aware ‘socializing’ required her standing mute while others prattle on about their own greatness.”

“Mother,” Lady Shelton said, her cheeks coloring, “that’s hardly what?—”

“Fairness is hardly the concern, is it, dear?” Lady Clifton said breezily, looping her arm through Charlotte’s. “Now, Charlotte, be a good girl and escort your old grandmother. I am certain the ballroom can survive a few moments without you.”

Kinfield opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but Lady Clifton silenced him with a look that could cut glass.

“Surely you don’t object to a lady’s health, Lord Kinfield?” she said sweetly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You wouldn’t want to deprive me of fresh air, would you?”

“Of course not,” Kinfield said weakly, stepping back. “Please, do take your time.”

Lady Clifton smiled, victorious, and began leading Charlotte away. “Good boy,” she murmured just loud enough for him to hear, earning a strangled cough from Kinfield.

As they walked toward the garden, Charlotte bit back a grin, her spirits lifting for the first time in days.

Her grandmother had always been a force to be reckoned with, and tonight was no exception.

“Thank you,” Charlotte whispered as they passed through the wide French doors and into the cool night air.

Lady Clifton patted her arm. “Never thank me for rescuing you from a bore, my dear. That’s a grandmother’s duty.”

Charlotte giggled, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders ease. “He does love to talk about himself.”

“Indeed. A walking advertisement for vanity, that one,” Lady Clifton said dryly. “But enough about him. Tell me, how was your trip to France? Did your aunt drive you mad with her incessant chatter about the proper way to butter toast?”

Charlotte burst into laughter. “She hasn’t changed a bit, Grandmother. She still insists the French are hopelessly inferior when it comes to their table manners.”

“Of course, she does,” Lady Clifton said with a knowing smile. “And did you manage to get up to anything naughty while you were there?”

Charlotte hesitated, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Yes,” she admitted, her cheeks warming.

“Good,” Lady Clifton replied with a chuckle. “I’d be terribly disappointed if you hadn’t. Life’s too short to spend it behaving all the time.”

The laughter faded as Lady Clifton’s gaze turned shrewd. “But that brings me to a more pressing question, my dear. How, pray tell, did you find yourself engaged to that insufferable dandy, Lord Kinfield?”

Charlotte sighed, the weight of her predicament settling over her once more.

“It’s not as though I had a choice,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “Mother and Father decided it would be a good match, and I wasn’t even consulted. I only found out two days ago, when Polly—my maid—showed me a gossip sheet announcing my engagement.”

Lady Clifton’s brows shot up. “You weren’t consulted? I’ll have words with your parents about this.”

“Thank you, Grandmother,” Charlotte said though her voice lacked conviction. “But I don’t think it will make a difference. They have made up their minds, and they seem to think Kinfield is perfect.”

“Well, I don’t,” Lady Clifton said firmly. “And neither do you, from the looks of it.”

Charlotte exhaled a shaky breath. “It’s not just that, Grandmother. It’s been the most eventful two weeks of my life. I feel as though everything is spinning out of control.”

Lady Clifton stopped walking and turned to face her. “What do you mean, eventful?” she asked, her sharp eyes narrowing with curiosity. “What has happened?”

Charlotte hesitated, then decided there was no point in hiding the truth. If anyone would understand—or at least not judge her—it was her grandmother.

“I… I tried to stop Lavinia’s wedding.”

Lady Clifton raised an elegant brow. “Did you now? And how did that go?”

Charlotte looked down, her cheeks coloring. “Not well. I didn’t make it in time, and… I ended up at the Duke of Thornvale’s house—or castle, I should say.”

Lady Clifton’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “The Duke of Thornvale?”

Charlotte nodded, wondering what the light in her grandmother’s eyes meant. “Yes. He—well, it’s a long story. He stopped me from ruining the wedding and practically kidnapped me to keep me from causing a scandal. I ended up staying at Thornvale during the storm. I was unable to leave—not safely, at least.”

Lady Clifton studied her granddaughter, her expression unreadable.

“Eventful indeed,” she murmured, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “And what do you make of the Duke, Charlotte?”

Charlotte hesitated, her thoughts an indecipherable jumble. What did she think of him?

Irritating, certainly. Handsome, most definitely. Powerfully alluring, undoubtedly.

“I… I don’t know,” she stuttered. “He’s infuriating. Commanding. And yet—” She stopped, unsure how to finish the sentence.

Lady Clifton reached out and squeezed her arm gently. “Well, my dear, you have certainly had an adventure. But fear not. I’ll have a word with your parents about this Kinfield nonsense. They’ll listen to me.”

“Thank you, Grandmother,” Charlotte said softly though deep down, she felt no hope left.

Her parents’ minds were made up, and no amount of reasoning seemed capable of swaying them.

As they turned to walk back toward the ballroom, Charlotte froze, her ears catching the faint sound of movement behind them—a rustle of fabric, perhaps, or the crunch of a footstep on gravel.

Her heart leaped. She had spoken so openly about Thornvale, so freely.

If anyone were to hear, it could mean her downfall.

“What is it?” Lady Clifton asked.

Charlotte turned, her eyes scanning the darkened path behind them. “I thought I heard something.”

Lady Clifton followed her gaze but saw nothing. “It’s likely just the wind, my dear. Come along. We shouldn’t keep the gossipmongers waiting too long.”

Charlotte nodded, but unease pricked at her as they made their way back inside.