The Corinthians Series: Rules of Masquerade

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty One

William was cooped up in his room when the news of the arrival of the duke reached him. After straightening his brocaded waistcoat and shrugging on his jacket he set off to meet his grandfather, only to stop short in the hallway outside of the study frequented by the duke. William leaned closer to the door and heard whispers of muffled conversation beyond.

William cocked his head to the side to address his valet. “Is the duke entertaining someone George?”

His valet clasped his hand on the doorknob, ready to open the door for him. “Yes my lord.”

William focused his ear to the door again. This time he discerned a feminine voice entwining with the low murmurs of his grandfather. “Who?”

George’s brow crinkled. “I believe its Lady Alistair, my lord.”

William burst into the room without a second thought. With a mighty jerk he pulled the door opened and lurched into the wood paneled room. Standing on the amber Persian rug, his heart pounding with genuine dread, his eyes could barely see the jaunty bonnet resting on a raven black head, belonging to none other than Charlotte Alistair. Opposite from where she sat, separated by a table, was his grandfather the Duke of Hartington.

 Winded by his abrupt entrance, William nodded his greeting to the duke. “Grandfather, you’ve …”

“Arrived, yes.” The old man finished his sentence for him before fixing his eyes back to the fair skinned lady seated in front of him. William, along with his rude entrance, was forgotten.

Charlotte, today dressed in a blue assemble, rose from her seat. “I believe I should take my leave now, Your Grace.”

William watched his good natured grandfather smiled rather besottedly, sunken cheeks dimpling. He then bobbed his head up and down in approval. “Ah, of course of course.”  

Charlotte stepped away from the chair she had previously occupied and curtsied demurely. Her voice rung clear in the little room: steady and unwavering. To William, her voice was like a splash of ice water. “My lord I appreciate your time and your advice. I shall consider them. Thank you.”

 “Anytime my dear, anytime.” The fond smile worn by the duke did not waver until Charlotte exited the room. On her way out Charlotte did not even spared him so much as a glance, her eyes coldly fixed straight ahead. William felt goose bumps all over him as she passed.

The door closed with a dull thud and William sighed warily. The duke gestured his grandson to the chair in front him with an impish glint in his eyes. “I’ve have had many conversations before but I daresay that was the most fascinating one yet.”

Treading on the Persian rug, William hesitated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure you have. What did you told her?”

Sifting the ledgers resting on top of his desk, the duke peered away from his restless grandson. “Nothing she shouldn’t be aware of. Tell me, why did you deceive her of the nature of your engagement?”

William sighed wearily and reached for a decanter of brandy resting on a spindly legged table, pouring himself a drink. “She knows now.” After pouring himself a refill he finally sat. “I did not deceive her; at least I didn’t plan to for long. I was going to tell her during the ball.”

“The lady thought differently. I assume that you’ve convinced her family to play along as well?”

“Barely. Lord Alistair was concerned but Charlotte older brothers agreed to play along.”