Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Three hours earlier

Alexander had been somewhat nervous approaching Elliot Fairchild, though he couldn't for the life of him think why. Any of the lower lords would be thrilled to have their charge marry a duke, even if he wasn't as wealthy as he liked to present himself. And what little Alexander knew of Fairchild, he was a pleasant and appeasing man.

But marrying Charlotte meant so much to him, and anything that might prevent that was nerve wracking.

"Come in," Elliot called from the study.

Alexander opened the door and peered in to find the man looking up at him in surprise.

"Oh, Your Grace," he said, rising from his seat. "I'm sorry, I assumed it was one of the servants come to pester me about something. I wasn't expecting you."

"No. It was rather an unplanned call, but I do hope you won't mind seeing me," Alexander replied.

"Not at all, not at all. Come in, make yourself at home." Elliot beckoned for Alexander to join him, offering up one of the comfortable high-backed wing chairs in front of the fire. Elliot himself took the other. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Is it business?"

"Actually no. At least not in the strictest sense." Alexander paused, finding the words he wanted before continuing. "In actual fact, it's about young Lady Charlotte."

Elliot's beaming smile told Alexander everything he needed to know: this man loved his niece and wanted the best for her. Alexander breathed a little easier.

"Is it indeed? Did I detect a little flush of attraction that night in the theater?"

Alexander looked away, embarrassed that it had been so plain, but he smiled all the same. "You could say that, yes. In fact, since the wedding of Lord and Lady Lemming, Lady Charlotte and I have become something of friends. She is an excellent conversationalist as well as a beauty, and I must admit I find her rather captivating."

"Does she know you are here today?"

Alexander nodded, looking down at his hands sheepishly. "Yes, we had discussed it. In fact, it was her idea."

Elliot chuckled. "She always insisted she would never marry, but I knew she only needed to find the right gentleman. And it seems now she has."

Alexander looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "You know why I am here then?"

"Your Grace, I have enough experience of the world to recognize a man in love. You are here to ask for my blessing?"

"I am," Alexander clarified. "Do you think you could find it in your heart to give it to us? I will take good care of your niece, Lord Fairchild. She will want for nothing, and her life will be filled with love."

"I have no doubt. Of course you have my blessing. I am overjoyed at the prospect. Shall we take a little brandy to celebrate?"

Alexander left the study two glasses of brandy later, thrilled at how easily the conversation had gone. He found he rather liked Elliot Fairchild. The man was light of heart and full of good cheer. He left the house and went immediately to see Stewart. If ever there was a time to celebrate, this was it.

***

Lydia was sitting in the drawing room with her embroidery when she heard the front door close, followed by the quiet call of her husband. She glanced over at Lucille, whose nose was buried in a book. She couldn't wait to get rid of the young woman, but they had some time yet before their plan could be fully enacted.

"Lydia? Where are you?"

"Where I always am, you old fool," she muttered under her breath, causing Lucille to giggle, and then louder, she said, "the drawing room, Elliot."

When he came bounding in, Lydia narrowed her eyes. He was always quite a happy-go-lucky man, but on that particular afternoon, he seemed overly cheerful. It always worried her when he was overly cheerful. It usually meant there was something afoot.

"I have just had the most wonderful news," he said, plonking himself down on the chair opposite her and motioning to the maid for a drink. Lucille remained silent in the corner, as if she hoped they would forget she was there.

"And would you care to share it with us?" Lydia asked, her lips pursed.

"That was the Duke of Ashbourne who just left. Did you know he and our Charlotte have become something of friends since Lady Chelsea's wedding?"

Hearing that he had been here, in this house, talking to her husband, sent a bolt of panic to Lydia's heart. If there was anyone she did not want embroiled in this plan, it was Elliot and his hopelessly romantic, hopelessly optimistic ways.

She glanced at Lucille who pretended to continue reading, though Lydia could see the tension in her shoulders and the discomfort across her features. Lydia pushed her needle through the cotton, her lips tighter than ever.

"I had heard something, yes, but we must discourage it at all costs. I have tried, Elliot, really I have, but to no avail. That girl will not listen to reason."

Elliot took a sip of his brandy and smacked his lips together. "Discourage it? But why? He is a decent chap, and a duke to boot! I think they make a wonderful match."

Lydia's head shot up, and she glared at him. "Match? What on earth are you talking about, Elliot? They are friends, nothing more."

"Ah, but there you are mistaken my dear."

He shifted forward on his seat and rested his elbows on his knees. Lucille had given up all pretense of reading and was now openly listening to them, and Lydia herself clutched her embroidery so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. Her husband had best not have ruined things for her. She had the entire plan laid out, and it was going to benefit everyone. Well, except maybe Charlotte and the duke, but that was of no importance.

"Mistaken how?" she asked in a dark tone.

"Oh!" He chuckled. "Sorry, I haven't told you, have I? The Duke of Ashbourne has asked for Charlotte's hand in marriage. She has said yes, of course, and I have given my full blessing. Tomorrow, we shall begin organizing the wedding in earnest! Isn't it terribly exciting? We haven't had a wedding in the family since… well, since we were married, I'd say."

"Exciting? Exciting!" Lydia cried out with exasperation, throwing her embroidery onto the couch and getting up to pace the room. "You don't know what you've done, Elliot Fairchild. You are an old fool sometimes."

"Come now, Liddy, that's a little harsh, don't you think?"

"No I do not think," she snapped. She was so furious that her head wobbled as she spoke. "That man is not suitable for Charlotte!"

"But why not? He will raise her status significantly, and he seems to genuinely love her. I believe he will care for her greatly. Besides, you must consider her age, Lydia. She is not so young any longer, and time is running out."

"But the Duke of Ashbourne!" she cried. She turned on her heels as she reached the far end of the room, then returned to him in her pacing. "What exactly do you know of him?"

"Not a lot, admittedly, but—"

"Exactly! Honestly, Elliot. The man may be a duke, but it is a title alone. He is weighed down by debt. He is penniless! He is marrying Charlotte for her money and no mistake."

Elliot tutted as Lydia marched back up the room. "I don't know how you could know such a—"

"It is common knowledge, Elliot!" she cried. "Isn't it, Lucille? Tell him!"

"I… er, yes," Lucille sputtered from the corner of the room. "It is quite well known throughout the ton that the Duke of Ashbourne inherited the title at the worst time. He has nothing."

Elliot chewed on his lip for a moment but soon shrugged and returned to his usual, happy expression. "I understand your concerns, my dear, I really do. But he is very clearly a good and honest man. I know true love when I see it, and he loves Charlotte truly. While I am certain her inheritance is something of an attraction for him, I promise you it is not the only one. I don't mind that he is penniless, as long as he is a man of good character. And that I believe him to be. Now, shall we celebrate with dinner this evening?"

Lydia sat back down and shot him a dark look. She had to change his mind, or she would lose everything—and she wasn't willing to lose a single thing. "You never have been good at reading people, Elliot.

His Grace has a way of convincing people he is of good character, as most paupers can, but that does not mean it is true. He is playing a game with Charlotte. He will marry her, use her for whatever he wants, take all her money, then leave her with nothing but humiliation, sadness, and a broken reputation. Is that what you want for your niece? Is it?"

Elliot let out an awkward chuckle. "I think you are being a little dramatic. Where on earth did you get all those ideas?"

"Because he did it to me." Lucille's voice in the corner was small, weak, but Lydia breathed a sigh of relief at her interruption. Perhaps with two of them arguing her case, Elliot might actually listen.

He shifted on his seat and looked over at Lucille. "Whatever do you mean, young lady?"

"I am sorry for being so bold," Lucille said, putting on her very best simpering voice. "But I can't bear to see Charlotte subjected to the same things I was. We have become such good friends in the past weeks."

"Your boldness is forgiven," Elliot said harshly, "but you must explain yourself this instant."

Lucille cleared her throat, and Lydia marveled at the girl's acting abilities. She would be able to convince any man of anything.

"I thought he loved me," she said. "He promised me the world, but he left me with nothing. I helped him pay off some debts with money handed down to me after my father's death. I did it because I believed he loved me and that we would be married.

But soon after that, the duke became distant and unfriendly until finally, he called off our engagement. He stole my money and my honor, Lord Fairchild, and ruined my reputation. I can see the very same thing playing out with Charlotte. Please, I beg of you, don't let this happen if you love your niece at all."

"Well, that is bad news indeed," Elliot muttered. He fell back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and suppressed the victory smile.

***

By the time Alexander returned home a few hours later, he was feeling rather happy indeed, and seeing Stewart that afternoon had only made it better. They had celebrated Alexander's good fortune, and he realized how much of a good friend he had in Stewart. He knew they'd be close until the day they died.

To think only a few weeks ago, he was lost in a world he didn't fully understand, and he had been entirely alone but for an uncle who had long ago lost his mind. Now, he had reunited with good friends, fallen in love with the most wonderful woman, and had a bright future ahead of him. He could not wait for it to start.

"Your Grace," the butler said as Alexander shrugged his tailcoat off. The butler took it from him and placed it on the coat hook. "A letter came for you while you were out."

"Anything important?" Alexander asked as he made his way across the entrance hall. He looked around at the dilapidated building and thought of all the improvements he would make once he was married. He would begin with the roof, that was for sure. As winter approached, he dreaded the downpours that found their way through the holes.

"It was hand delivered, Your Grace, so I would suggest so, yes." The butler trotted to keep up with him. "It's on your desk, Sir."

"Excellent, thank you." Alexander spun around just as he reached the study door. "Oh, prepare a few bottles of our finest wines this evening, will you? We have some celebrating to do!"

The butler nodded before scuttling away, and Alexander locked himself into the quiet of his study. The peace enveloped him, and he finally felt secure in the knowledge that everything was going to be all right.

Hitching up his trouser legs, he sat down and let out a contented sigh. Then he spotted the letter on the desk. The handwriting was neat and small, the ink dark against the fine cream parchment. Alexander frowned. Something about it made him feel patently uneasy, though that was nonsense. How could a letter do such a thing, especially when one was yet to discover its contents?

He leaned in slowly, turned it over, and snapped the wax seal. It didn't take him long to read. There were only two lines, but they were two lines that would change his life forever.

I retract my blessing of your marriage to my niece, Lady Charlotte Fairchild. Please do not contact her or me ever again.

Elliot Fairchild.