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

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A week later, they attended another society ball, but this one felt entirely different to Charlotte. There was hope there and perhaps a touch of pride.

It felt, at last, like they were attending a ball together as man and wife rather than merely arriving together.

This time, as she admired the glittering light of the countless chandeliers, Charlotte could see a bright future for them. Things were getting better, and she had absolutely no doubt that they would continue to do so. She only hoped that he would continue to touch her in the same intense way.

The hum of conversation and the lilting strains of a string quartet filled the air, creating a symphony of opulence and gaiety. Charlotte moved through the crowd with an ease she had only recently begun to master, her chin held high and her gown—cerulean blue this time—a striking statement among the pastel hues around her.

Magnus, ever the stoic observer, walked at her side, his presence both a source of comfort and an unyielding shield against the curious eyes that followed them. Despite the whispers that trailed in their wake, Charlotte refused to falter. She was learning to navigate these waters with grace though the current of scrutiny remained relentless. And at least, she had her duke at her side.

It wasn’t long before a familiar, saccharine voice interrupted their progress.

“Your Grace,” Miss Evans drawled, her smile as polished as the jewels at her throat, “how lovely to see you here.”

Charlotte turned, her gaze cool and composed. “Miss Evans,” she replied, her tone measured and devoid of the warmth Miss Evans clearly feigned. “I’d like to say the same…” she trailed off, allowing the woman to make of that comment what she would. “What a surprise to see you here.”

“Oh, not such a surprise,” Miss Evans said, a glint of smugness in her eyes. “After all, this is one of the season’s most anticipated event. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Her gaze jumped to Magnus briefly before returning to Charlotte. “I do hope you have been well since… everything.”

Charlotte didn’t blink. “I have been very well, thank you. Thornvale is simply magnificent. I cannot begin to count my luck. And yourself?”

Miss Evans’s smile widened though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Quite well as it happens. In fact, I have some wonderful news to share.” She tilted her head, her expression full of faux sincerity. “Lord Kinfield and I are engaged.”

Magnus tensed beside her, but Charlotte merely raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “Congratulations,” she said lightly, the single word delivered with such poise that it left Miss Evans blinking in surprise. “I am sure you’ll both be very happy.”

The hint of dismissal in her tone was clear, and Miss Evans faltered, her carefully constructed facade cracking. “Yes, well, thank you,” she said, her voice tight. “Do enjoy the evening.” With that, she swept away, her skirts swishing with barely concealed irritation.

Charlotte could feel her husband’s hungry eyes on her, and she stood a little straighter, pushing her chest out to display her wares. She was certain that made him smirk though she didn’t see it.

“Well handled,” he murmured into her ear as they moved on.

She shivered at the sensation of his breath on her neck and glanced at him, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Was there ever any doubt?”

“Never, not with you,” he whispered in return.

He placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her around the room, nodding greetings at various dignitaries and members of the ton . She felt almost as if she were being paraded, shown off to the crowd, and she found she rather liked it. She held herself taller, prouder, proving herself worthy of his attention.

As they wove through the throng, Lavinia intercepted them with a bright smile. “Charlotte! There’s someone you must meet.” She turned, gesturing to a petite woman with dark curls and a kind smile. “This is Lady Dunhaven and her husband, the Marquess of Dunhaven.”

Charlotte extended her hand, her smile genuine as she greeted the couple. The Marquess, a tall man with a gentle demeanor, inclined his head politely before stepping aside to allow the two women to converse.

“Your Grace,” Lady Dunhaven said warmly, her voice soft but filled with sincerity. “I have heard so much about you from Lavinia. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Charlotte replied, feeling an instant connection to the woman’s kindness. “But please, call me Charlotte. I am still not used to being Your Grace at all!”

“Then you must call me Lily,” Lady Dunhaven said. “And I quite understand. It can be a little… overwhelming at times, can’t it?”

Charlotte sucked in her breath. “More than a little,” she muttered.

“But you are settling in well, aren’t you?” Lavinia asked. “Christian says he hasn’t seen Magnus for over a week now, and we both took that to mean… well…”

Lavinia’s cheeks flushed as she realized what she had suggested, but Charlotte merely giggled. “He has been staying at home a lot, yes,” she said diplomatically, offering her old friend a reassuring—and confirming—nod. “It does make events such as these a little easier though I still hear the whispers.”

As if to prove her point, a gaggle of older ladies pointed quite openly at her from across the room, their words hidden by their fans and the hum of the room. Charlotte sighed and pulled her eyes away, refocusing on the conversation at hand.

Lily leaned closer, her expression empathetic, her hands wrapped around her wine glass. “I understand how overwhelming this all can be,” she said quietly, her gaze moving to the whispering clusters of attendees. “The stares, the whispers—they can be relentless.”

Charlotte nodded, her composure faltering slightly. “It does wear on one after a while.”

Lily reached out, squeezing her hand gently. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said firmly. “I know what it’s like to be the subject of their gossip, but their opinions hold no power unless you let them. Surround yourself with those who truly matter. That’s all you need. And believe me, they will move onto someone else as soon as they can. Scandal and rumor are currency, but it is quickly spent.”

Charlotte’s smile grew, gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you, Lily. That means more than I can say.”

Lily returned the smile, her warmth unwavering. “I can already tell you are a good person, Charlotte. Remember that, always.”

“What ought she remember?” Magnus asked, appearing once more at her side, along with Lily’s husband.

“That as duchess, I should always get what I want,” Charlotte teased.

Magnus raised an eyebrow in her direction. “I believe you already have plenty.” He turned to the Marquess. “I believe the wives are conspiring against us, Dunhaven.”

Lily’s husband smiled, standing a little closer to her. “There is no need for my wife to conspire, Your Grace,” he replied, looking lovingly at Lily. “She can already have whatever she wants in the world. I shall fetch it for her.”

Magnus’ eyes darkened as he turned to Charlotte. “Do not ever expect the same. Remember our agreement?”

His sudden coldness made Charlotte shrink back, surprised by his words. She had thought they were getting on so well, that this was the start of something brighter, but his mention of their agreement that their marriage was one of name alone made her wonder if she had entirely misread the situation.

Before she could retort, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of another familiar pair—the Duke and Duchess of Stormcliff. Their entrance seemed to command the attention of the room effortlessly, the Duchess’ striking presence matched only by the easy confidence with which her husband carried himself. The crowd seemed to part instinctively for them, their reputation as a formidable duo preceding them.

“Ah, there they are,” Lavinia said with a smile, leaning toward Charlotte. “You’ll adore them both—though don’t let Ophelia’s sharp tongue catch you off guard.”

Before Charlotte could respond, Ophelia swept toward her with a smile that was both mischievous and genuine, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “Lady Charlotte,” she greeted, her voice warm but carrying a teasing lilt. “So, this is the woman who has managed to tame Magnus.” She cast a mock-serious glance at Magnus, her lips twitching. “Married life suits him, don’t you think? I hardly recognize this man.”

Charlotte blinked, momentarily taken aback by the familiarity and boldness of her tone. But then she caught the twinkle in Ophelia’s eyes and relaxed, her own smile forming. “Tame him?” she echoed with a hint of humor. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“No,” Magnus said, that note of coldness still lingering. “You must definitely will not.”

The Duke joined them with a hearty chuckle, clapping Magnus on the back with a familiarity that spoke of years of friendship. “She’s modest,” he said, grinning at Charlotte. “But I can see the difference. You have brought out a more tolerable side of him, Lady Charlotte. Truly a feat.”

Magnus arched a brow at his old friend. “Tolerable?” he drawled, his tone dry. “I wasn’t aware I needed improving.”

“Oh, you always need improving,” Ophelia quipped, her grin widening. “Thankfully, it seems your wife is up to the task.”

Charlotte felt her cheeks warm at the playful exchange, but she held her ground, her smile growing. “I don’t think His Grace is as difficult as everyone claims,” she said lightly, casting a sidelong glance at him.

Magnus’ lips twitched, a smirk that he was unable to control tugging at the corners of his mouth. He met her gaze briefly before he turned his attention back to Ophelia and Maxwell. “Haven’t you just had a baby? Surely you are too tired for all this nonsense now,” he remarked, his tone carrying an edge of amusement.

“Elizabeth. She’s three months, and I can only say I am incredibly grateful for the nursemaid. I don’t know how I’d do it otherwise,” Ophelia replied.

“Congratulations,” Charlotte said. “I cannot imagine how difficult it must be, trying to control your husband and child.”

Ophelia looked at her in shock for a moment but quickly laughed.

“Yes, Magnus,” she said, “this one definitely suits you.”

The group shared a moment of easy camaraderie, the tension that had clung to the evening melting away under the warmth of their banter. Maxwell shifted his focus to Charlotte, his expression turning earnest. “It’s good to finally meet you, Lady Charlotte. I can see why Magnus speaks so highly of you.”

Charlotte blinked, her gaze darting to Magnus, who appeared wholly uninterested in the comment. “He speaks highly of me?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and disbelief.

Maxwell grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “He does—though I doubt he’d admit it to your face. Magnus has always been a man of few words, but actions, Madam, speak volumes.”

“I would not admit it,” Magnus said firmly, “because it is simply not true.”

Charlotte’s heart fluttered at the implication, her eyes lingering on Magnus for a moment longer than she intended. He didn’t meet her gaze, but the slight shift in his posture told her that Maxwell was honest in everything he said. She looked away, pursing her lips to prevent the grin.

Magnus remained in broody silence beside her, his gaze fixed on the scene before him. Though he said little, Charlotte felt his presence keenly, a quiet strength that steadied—and excited her—in ways she hadn’t yet dared to admit.

As the evening wore on, Charlotte found herself growing weary of the relentless energy and the weight of unspoken judgments. Magnus, ever attuned to her, noticed her quiet withdrawal and leaned closer. “Shall we take a moment to ourselves?”

She nodded gratefully, and he led her to a secluded corner of the garden, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm light over the neatly manicured hedges. The air was cool and refreshing, a welcome reprieve from the crowded ballroom.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of relief. “For noticing.”

Magnus studied her, his expression thoughtful. “I always notice.”

Charlotte’s cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and she looked away, her fingers brushing the petals of a nearby flower. “It’s been a long evening,” she admitted.

“Indeed,” he said, his voice low. “But you handled it well.”

She met his eyes, her gratitude evident. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Magnus sucked in his breath as if her words had made her uncomfortable, and he looked into the distant skies. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

The sincerity in his words struck a chord within her though she wished he would open up completely. He was so close, so almost there, but whenever she got too close, he quickly shut down, as if not allowing himself this one thing. “We make a good team,” she said, her smile soft.

He looked at her for a long moment, his head tilted to one side. “Perhaps. But perhaps it’s time to go home. Come now. I don’t want you too tired when we get back to the estate.”

He got up and walked off. Charlotte stared after him, her mouth open in surprise, but she could not deny the impact his words had on her body. She squirmed as she thought of what he would do to her when they returned then she quickly rose and teetered after him.