Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

Charlotte caught herself smiling again as she sifted through the papers. If only she could find what she needed in Lily’s office, which was a disaster, then she could be on her way and return home.

To Ian.

Which is something she never thought would be true.

Celeste was curled up in the armchair. The black cat popped one eye open before yawning, then promptly returned to her nap, clearly perturbed by Charlotte’s quest. Or maybe it was the echoes of students reciting Latin and the pianoforte. It was never quiet at this school, but it was always joyful. And for that, Charlotte was very happy and proud.

Charlotte tripped, knocking off a pile of papers that fluttered across the floor.

“ Lily, Lily, Lily ,” she muttered under her breath. “I must come in and help organize this office.”

She gathered the papers, accidentally knocking her head on the underside of the desk. Ouch . She rubbed the back of her head, then stood up, clutching the edge of the desk to find her balance.

Then she looked once toward the doorway, then again, her heart giving an answering squeeze .

“I was only just thinking of you,” she said.

“Beg your pardon?”

The papers dropped to her feet once more as the room spun.

The man who returned her astonished gaze at first appeared to be Ian, but upon closer examination, his nose was crooked, and his eyes were far more amber than black. His clothes were serviceable, not from Savile Row. His hands rested on the shoulders of a little girl with curly blonde hair who stood to his waist.

“I’m sorry. I was told to speak with the headmistress,” the man said again, and his vowels were not those of Mayfair, but something rougher.

Charlotte’s heart picked up in her chest, her palms beginning to sweat because what she saw couldn’t be.

“The headmistress is not here today, but I can help. Please come in,” Charlotte said, clearing her throat and trying to gather herself. She cleared away the piles of books, then gestured toward the two chairs in front of the desk. “Please, have a seat. I apologize, I missed your name.”

“William Nicholls,” he said, “and this is Ellen Nicholls.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.” She came around and settled into her seat so as not to fall down onto the floor. “Well, how can I help today?”

Why did this man look exactly like her husband? She couldn’t puzzle it together.

“I would like to enroll my sister into this school. I have reached out and haven’t received a response.”

That was indeed strange.

“How old are you?”

The girl glanced toward the man, then back to Charlotte, nervously fidgeting in her seat. “Eleven, ma’am.”

Charlotte didn’t bother to correct her.

She held up her hand, unable to stop studying the man but terrified to allow her mind to wander. “I apologize, and you might think I’m mad… It’s only I swear you look like someone I know. My husband, in fact. ”

“Your husband?” Mr. Nicholls repeated. His fists turned white in his lap.

“Yes, the Duke of Dandridge.”

The man heaved a sigh, rushing out a slow exhale before he returned Charlotte’s gaze. “Is there someone who could show my sister around while we go over business?”

It was clear from his tone that what he had to share was not for his sister to overhear.

Charlotte’s curiosity was piqued. “Yes, of course.”

She rang for Mrs. Pratt, who arrived a few minutes later and escorted the girl out.

Once the door clicked shut, Charlotte leaned forward over the desk, clasping her hands together, waiting for the man to continue.

“Your husband is the Duke of Dandridge. We share a father. Ellen and I are the illegitimate children fathered by the seventh Duke of Dandridge.”

Charlotte blinked hard, then laughed, nerves getting the best of her. “I’m sorry. Are you saying you are my husband’s brother? He has never mentioned anything of his father’s by-blows.”

“We have lived outside of London our entire lives, and though he was older, the duke lived out the end of his life with us and our mother who recently passed. I had promised my mother to remain out of London so there wouldn’t be a scandal, but I think it’s best and only fair that my sister receives a quality education.”

Charlotte didn’t know what to say. As furious as she was with her husband, she was also curious about the true story. Why hadn’t he never mentioned it? Did he even know the truth?

“That is surprising news to hear and quite a shock if I am to be honest.”

“You don’t believe me?” he shot back.

“No, no,” she said, “it’s not that I don’t believe you. It is honestly unexpected.”

The man narrowed his eyes on her, the same hawkish look her husband flashed from time to time. How incredibly odd and unsettling. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself .

“Certainly. We can enroll her in the fall term.”

“Very good.”

She pushed over a piece of paper and her quill so that he might write down the necessary information. Her hand shook the entire time.

Had Ian lied to her? Had he always known the truth about his father’s second family?

When he finished, Mr. Nicholls pushed back in his chair and stood. “Good day, ma’am. I mean, Your Grace.”

Somehow, she swallowed past the knot in her throat. “Have a good afternoon.” Then she sank back into her chair the moment the door closed behind him.

Charlotte was stuck once more, teetering on the edge of fury and something else, something more ambiguous. Maybe that creeping, all-consuming fear that she was about to be left again.

And that she truly didn’t know her husband—after the strides they had made, spending time together recently. She couldn’t pretend this hadn’t happened. She couldn’t leave it alone. She knew she must ask him, and she was afraid of his answer. And more afraid of getting her heart broken again.

Charlotte grasped her water glass in her hand and swallowed a sip, working up the courage to ask Ian.

“You haven’t touched your soup. Are you feeling well?”

“Oh, fine.”

He paused, the spoon halfway up to his mouth before he nodded, then had another spoonful of artichoke soup.

“I ran into Gabriel at my club earlier. He was there with Rafe and Mr. Hawkins. I’ve agreed to invest in the whiskey distillery if Rafe can offer profitable shipping routes.”

She shut her eyes. “I had an interesting visit as well,” she rushed out. She dropped her spoon, no longer interested in appearing as if she would eat dinner. She couldn’t possibly. She was certain her stomach had been a tangle of knots since this afternoon.

“Oh?”

“Yes, your half brother visited the school to enroll his sister. I’m assuming, also your half sister.”

All the warmness that had worked its way into Ian over the past few months faded instantly. He was all stone again, a gargoyle on the side of the Notre Dame still, glaring at her across the long dining table.

“Have you always known, Ian?”

He set down his spoon, blinking suddenly, then turning away. “No.”

“No? When did you find out?” When he didn’t answer, she pushed her luck and pressed further. “Were you ever planning on telling me?”

“When my father passed, I became aware of some hidden payments, and since the solicitor would not tell me more, I tracked down who those payments were being sent to. Her name was Judith, and he fathered three children with her. All the time he spent away from me and my brother was because he preferred to live his life as someone else, not a duke.”

“And your mother never knew?”

He raised his brows, then shook his head with a sigh. “For the longest time, she refused to say. But when she died, she confessed everything to me. She told me my father had loved Judith, but his parents never approved because she was a shopkeeper’s daughter. Eventually, he took her as a mistress after I was born. And then, slowly at first, he built a life with Judith, only ever returning to Cumbria to be with my mother when we were home from school. When Nathaniel was nine, she returned to Italy, and I only saw our father a week before he passed.”

“And you never thought I should know? What about Nathaniel? Does he know?”

Ian rubbed his temple and sighed. “I thought I could keep it quiet. I wanted to protect the legacy of the Dandridge title.”

“You hated your father. Is this why? ”

“I have always hated my father, Lottie. He never cared for my mother and despised me.”

“And Nathaniel?”

“They were much closer, but the title can’t go to Nathaniel. Not if he continues to parade around London as he does now. I am lost at how I can help him. I think he hates me as much as I hated my father. And now I must tell him something else I learned before I returned—about his father.”

“His father?”

“He’s not my father’s child.”

The silence roared between them until Charlotte dropped her spoon. “You haven’t told him yet? What if someone discovers the truth?”

“I’m not sure how best to tell him.”

That, she understood. “I don’t know if there was a right way or a wrong way, only that he deserves to know the truth.”

“I agree. I’ve tried to tell him since I’ve returned from Italy, but one of us always seems to be bristling.”

“You, bristling, Duke?”

Ian rubbed his hand against his mouth, attempting to hide his grin. “Point taken.”

“It should be you who tells him. He shouldn’t find out from someone else. Have him over for dinner one night, and I will be here if I must, to be the voice of reason.”

“Anyway, I have made sure everyone involved is well taken care of. Please, see that the girl is enrolled in the seminary so there isn’t any gossip. I am sorry they involved you.”

The hair stood on the back of Charlotte’s neck, and a metallic taste burned in her mouth. “ Sorry ? I am the duchess, Ian. Do you not think I deserve and need to know any of this? You are not burdening me with the truth.”

He didn’t move, hardly blinked, just remained still. So cold and far away.

“Will you let me in?” she pleaded at last.

At the sound of the crack of her voice, he stood and closed the distance between them, raking his hand back into her hair and kissing her forehead.

“Don’t be sweet, Ian. You can’t kiss your way out of this.”

“I can try. Get on the dining table…”

She shoved against his chest and then balled her fists, her brows drawn down. “No.”

He held up his hands, then studied her. “I apologize.”

However, that wasn’t what she needed to hear either. The faint trace of humor that had lit up his eyes faded to black—those dark, bottomless eyes of his that both warmed her and pushed her away. Barring him up, keeping her away.

Untouchable.

“I am sorry about your mother, Ian. I am sorry that your father made you feel as if you were a tether in a life he didn’t want. But I want you. And I want Nathaniel. And I want whatever happens to the damn Dandridge title because all that comes with loving you. You can’t run away or keep things hidden because you don’t want to deal with them.”

“Charlotte,” his voice choked, and she knew it was a tell. The first crack in his perfectly curated calm. Never an emotion out of place.

She shook her head, refusing once more to be pushed aside. “If you wish to stay, then love me and allow me in. We must be honest with one another.”