Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Alexander spun around and glared at Lucille. He'd known she was up to something. He should have trusted his gut feeling, but he'd been too foolish. Too eager to see Charlotte again.

"This is your doing," he said in a growl.

Lucille giggled again, that noise making him shudder, and she shrugged. She knew no mercy; he knew what cruelty she was capable of and yet, he had not trusted himself. For now, he swallowed back his anger. There would be time to make her pay for what she had done, but now he needed to see Charlotte. He needed to make her see, make her understand. He turned back to Lady Fairchild.

"I demand to see her and explain. That was not what it looked like, I can assure you of that. I'm afraid to tell you, my lady, that you have been hosting a harpy of the worst order. Lady Lucille is lady in name alone."

"Is she indeed?" Lady Fairchild raised her eyebrows. "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to see my niece, Your Grace. As you saw for yourself, she was very upset by your actions. A man truly in love would never do such a thing. Indeed, a man with morals never would either."

Alexander forced his breath out, his nostrils flaring as he did so. "I have proof of her cruel ways, my lady, and if only you will allow me a moment to—"

"That will not be possible, Your Grace. Duke or otherwise, I am in charge for this household while my husband is away, and I care greatly for the young lady whose heart you have broken."

Lucille giggled again, and Lady Fairchild met her gaze over Alexander's shoulder. The look on her face gave him pause, for there was no anger nor confusion. Instead, there was a smile. It was small and subtle, perhaps, but it was undoubtedly there.

"Please," he said, resorting to begging. "Allow me to see her. I'd like the chance to explain, and if she then wants me to leave, I shall never darken your doorstep again."

"That's quite impossible," she said, her expression returned to the sour one she offered him.

Alexander narrowed his eyes. It was all becoming clear in his mind. Lucille he had long suspected, but Lady Fairchild? Alexander had been a fool not to see that the pair were working together. To what end, he had no idea, but there was no doubt left in his mind. Lady Fairchild had a hand in his downfall.

"If you'll follow me, Your Grace," she said, ushering him out of the room. Dumbfounded and devastated, he followed her out of the room.

He spent that night at the club, drowning his sorrows in a vat of brandy, turning his memory of the day's events hazy. But the following morning, he returned to the house. She wouldn't see him, but Alexander wouldn't give up so easily. She needed time, he decided. She needed to see that he was serious.

Over the following three days, Alexander didn't rest. He sent note after note to Charlotte, though each one was entirely ignored. He had spent hours outside the Fairchild home and not once had he been admitted. He'd tormented himself for days, and now he didn't know where to turn. He was on the brink of giving up, of accepting defeat, for what else could he do?

He paced the floor of his study, his mind racing, when the butler entered with a letter.

"A note had arrived for you, Your Grace," he said, but Alexander had snatched it out of the man's hand and ripped it open before he could finish his sentence.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted the scrawled signature at the bottom, Lady Charlotte Fairchild. He would have preferred a little more familiarity than that, but at least she had written to him. At least she was thinking of him.

But when he read it, what little was left of his world fell apart.

The Duke of Ashbourne,

As you are aware, it has come to my attention that our friendship was built on a lie. I have since discovered a number of unhappy truths about you, thanks to family and good friends who care only for my safety and happiness.

I have tried ignoring you, I have tried staying away from you. But your insistence leaves me no choice: I politely request that you stay away from me. Do not call at the house, do not send any letters. I do not wish to see you—not now; not ever again.

Lady Charlotte Fairchild.

***

"Come now," Aunt Lydia said after Charlotte had watched the note being taken away for posting. "Let's get going. A little country air will do you the world of good."

She held her arm out affectionately, her expression one of pity. Charlotte nodded and allowed herself to be led into the carriage. She had barely slept for days, and her eyes were dry and sore from too much crying.

There had been occasions when she had almost given in to Alexander's request, but each time, her aunt reminded her of what he had done or discussed some other matter from his past. Charlotte was only grateful to have her and Uncle Elliot in her life. They knew what love truly was, and Charlotte was nothing but a fool. She should have known better.

The carriage pulled away from the house, the coach swaying in the wind as the wheels clattered over the cobbles.

"Sometimes I think it would have been better never to have loved," she muttered as she stared out of the window. "Love only leads to hurt, after all."

"Hush now," Aunt Lydia said, patting Charlotte on the knee. "Thinking of it will only make it worse. Try and put it out of your mind."

"But I have been made such a fool!"

"A girl so young as you and with such little experience isn't to know," Aunt Lydia continued.

Charlotte wanted to make herself as small as possible then disappear entirely. She'd always considered herself a woman of the world. Young, yes, but bright and never anyone's fool. She thought herself intelligent and not likely to fall for trickery. And she certainly never thought she would be tricked into loving a man at all, let alone one who didn't love her in return.

Since that terrible day, she had learned the truth about Alexander. He had never loved her. He only used her for her wealth. He had hoped to marry her, claim her money, then leave with Lucille. He was penniless and broken, and he had mounting debt. Charlotte couldn't even truly blame Lucille, for she had been good enough to tell them all the truth in the end. She had a kind enough heart to stop Alexander from ruining Charlotte entirely.

In reply to her aunt, she merely sighed.

"When we get to Cornwall," Aunt Lydia went on, "you will feel a lot better. Fresh air and new faces will do you the world of good. I believe Lord and Lady Leming are planning on visiting in the next few weeks. Won't that be nice?"

Charlotte muttered her agreement, but she didn't particularly want to see Chelsea either. She had been so excited to tell her friend of her great romance. Chelsea was surely laughing at her.

"And of course dear Arthur will be visiting in only a few weeks."

Charlotte's head shot around to face her. "Arthur's going to be there?"

"Why yes of course, dear. It is the family's country seat. He has every right to be there. And he is such a lovely man, isn't he? I thought it might nice if you and he met up again. I noticed how well the pair of you got on."

"He is very kind, yes," Charlotte replied, though it wasn't with much feeling. She didn't have much feeling about anything left, except an overwhelming numbness.

"Perhaps you can marry him if you wish. It's sure to make you feel better, and Arthur is such a darling."

Charlotte turned and smiled at her aunt. She could not imagine ever being so devastated that she would agree to marry Arthur Mulligan, but her aunt was being so kind. She meant only to cheer her up, and that warmed her heart.

There had been a moment, admittedly, when she had suspected Aunt Lydia of somehow ruining her chances of marrying Alexander, but the woman had been so kind and caring ever since—she had even made a show of kicking Lucille out of the house—that she had come to trust her again.

"Perhaps," she said. "Perhaps."