CHAPTER TWENTY

Charlotte wondered among the rose beds, feeling a sense of melancholy she could not shake.

She had slept fitfully, the faces of Kilby and the duke swirling through her mind for hours until she could not tell the difference between either man. She had woken several times, climbing from her bed and searching beneath the floorboards for her mother’s journal. Reading it was becoming an obsession; she suspected she would be able to recite some of the passages by heart.

She clutched it to her chest even now, as she walked through the dewy grass. The streets of London were loud and jarring in her ears as she tried to find the peace she had taken for granted in the hills of their country estate.

The high walls at the garden's edge were covered in creeping ivy, and as she wandered slowly between the bushes, she found her gaze drawn to a stone bench partially obscured behind a statue.

She made for it, her fingers tightening around the journal, glancing back at the house guiltily. It would not be long before Sarah came to seek her out. Charlotte was aware that her companion seemed constantly concerned for her these days.

She sat down on the bench and opened the well-worn pages. She could even pick out where her mother’s tears mixed with her own across the ink-stained pages. She brushed her fingers over the words, imagining that they might be of some comfort to her.

Is she watching me? She wondered. Perhaps she is guiding me to the right path in life.

That was a comforting thought.

She had never known her mother was such a romantic. Earlier passages in the journal had been dedicated just to Auric’s eyes or the curve of his mouth when he laughed. Charlotte felt her shoulders tense at the hours she had spent in similar pursuits when thinking of the duke.

The burgeoning feelings she held for the duke were a bright ball of light in her chest that only grew day by day. The introduction of Lord Kilby felt like a shadow set to engulf that light and extinguish it forever.

She sighed, reading a particular passage again: It's over. Father found out about Auric and me. His rage was terrible to behold. He's forbidden me from ever seeing Auric again, threatening to ruin the Ludlows if I disobey.

Charlotte looked up at the scudding clouds above her and the bright blue sky. The garden seemed impossibly beautiful, as though the world were taunting her with all these perfect things just as her own life was falling apart.

She hoped that the duke was well this morning and that the rumours that had seemed to multiply about the ballroom were untrue. Charlotte knew that many would be speaking of him today, thus was the nature of gossip and scandal. She had seen the papers already this morning, glancing at them before they were taken to her father—she wished that the press could be muzzled and never allowed to print anything unless there was some truth behind it.

She looked down at her mother’s beautiful hand and traced the letters for the hundredth time.

“What would you do, Mama? Would you change your life if you could?”

I would rather live one life in poverty with the duke than a thousand lifetimes of luxury with Kilby.

“Charlotte?” She looked up at the sound of Sarah’s voice. “Lord Kilby is here, and your father has sent me to fetch you.” Sarah’s lips pursed with disapproval. “He has been with your father for some time.”

Charlotte stopped, staring at the house as though she were walking to the gallows. The sun came out from behind a cloud, casting everything in a golden light as though to taunt her further.

“I suppose if I scale the wall and run away, you would follow me,” she said, attempting to lighten the heavy mood that had lowered over them.

Sarah’s smile was sad. “I should be impressed if you could scale a ten-foot wall at all, but you know I would follow you everywhere—undo everything—if I could.”

Charlotte reached out a hand, and Sarah clasped it tightly before they made their way back toward the house, every step a reminder of everything she was about to lose.

***

Lord Kilby stood beside her father when she entered the drawing room. Their identical smiles sent a chill through her, making her teeth grind.

“Ah, Charlotte,” her father said with a far more jovial tone than he ever used in private. “Lord Kilby has come to call on you. I must away for a few minutes to reply to a letter.” He indicated the table between the settees. “Tea!”

As her father left the room, Sarah hovered at the edges, watching Kilby intently. Sarah took a seat on the other side of the room and picked up her embroidery, giving Charlotte a pointed look.

Do not leave me, she thought desperately.

As they sat down, Charlotte made certain not to smile at him, pouring the tea with an expression of neutral interest. Lord Kilby took a piece of cake from the plate and crunched it happily, looking at the fire for a few minutes as Charlotte tried to think of a way to steer the conversation in the opposite direction to marriage.

“This is a most pleasant room, is it not?” he asked suddenly, and Charlotte glanced about her, feigning interest.

“It is a lovely room in the summer, yes, my Lord.”

“Yes, quite. Of course! The summer.”

The conversation was so stilted that Charlotte almost laughed. But when Lord Kilby began to rub his hands against his thighs in a most nervous manner, she felt dread rush through her.

“How did you find the ball yesterday evening?” he asked, sipping his tea and gazing at her over the top of his cup as though it were something he had practiced in the mirror.

“It was most diverting,” she said softly. “I did not see you toward the end. Did you leave early?”

“Missing me already!” he said with a tone likely meant to sound teasing. Charlotte heard Sarah make a noise at the back of her throat, which she masked with a cough.

“I merely noticed that you had departed early,” Charlotte said evenly. “Were you called away?”

Lord Kilby’s easy smile faltered. “Mm, yes, business in town. I always intended to be at the ball for a shorter time than usual. I had an early start the following day.”

Charlotte watched the sweat drip down his neck. “Today, my Lord?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you had an early start the following day. That is today, is it not?”

Lord Kilby huffed a laugh, his fingers flexing against the handle of his teacup. “Yes. Of course. I had an early start this morning.”

“And what were you doing?”

Lord Kilby gave a tight smile. “I did not come here to speak of myself, Lady Wentworth. You will forgive me, but I have something else that I would very much like to discuss with you.”

To her horror, Lord Kilby placed his cup on the table between them as though he might get down on one knee there and then. Charlotte glanced at Sarah but was further horrified to see her leaving the room, as might be proper at the time of a proposal.

Charlotte wanted to scream at her to come back again, but Sarah could only give her an apologetic glance as she pulled the door closed behind her.

Charlotte turned to Lord Kilby, whose simpering smile was firmly in place.

“Lady Wentworth, I must speak plainly. These past weeks, I have greatly enjoyed your company. I find myself compelled to make my wishes known to you.” His thumb rubbed incessantly against the two fingers of his right hand.

“Lord Kilby, you are very generous with your compliments.”

“It is no mere compliment, Lady Wentworth. You are quite exquisite. I believe, that is, I have come to know that my future and yours must be forever entwined.”

Charlotte couldn’t breathe. Was the ground opening up beneath her? It seemed so. She kept her teacup held before her as though it might shield her from the words that would leave his mouth next.

Just at that moment, however, to Charlotte’s profound relief, the door to the drawing room opened again. She thought it might be Sarah coming to rescue her, but instead, it was Waltham, his eyes flicking between them briefly before bowing to Charlotte.

“Lord Preston has arrived to call on you, Lady Wentworth. Should I show him in?”

Thank God for Malcolm.

Charlotte turned to Lord Kilby, whose smile had been replaced by an expression of barely veiled annoyance.

More grateful than she could express at the chance to escape, Charlotte held herself back from fleeing the room and gave him a gentle smile.

“Perhaps we should continue our conversation another time, Lord Kilby.”

Lord Kilby glanced at Waltham, who for some reason had not withdrawn, and gave a curt nod. Charlotte turned to the butler and motioned for him to show Lord Preston in. Lord Kilby was stiff and visibly displeased, but Charlotte knew he could not blame her for receiving another caller.

He bowed low, managing a smile when he straightened and stalked from the room, leaving Charlotte with a profound sense of relief.

After a few minutes, she followed him out, knowing that with Lord Kilby in the drawing room, Waltham would have shown Malcolm into the library. As she exited the room, Sarah darted out from a nearby parlor and raised her eyebrows in concern.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Lord Preston interrupted us, but I am sure Kilby was here to make me an offer. I am not going to be able to put him off forever, Sarah.”

“Today you have; tomorrow is another opportunity. Do not despair. I am so pleased to hear you are not engaged.”

Charlotte gave a startled laugh as she continued to the library and opened the door to see the welcoming figure of Malcolm perusing the shelves.

“Good morning, cousin,” she said, genuinely happy to see him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Malcolm turned, grinning from ear to ear, and came toward her as they took their seats beside the fire.

“I wondered whether you might be indisposed; there is an enormous carriage outside.”

“That was Lord Kilby, he was just leaving.”

Malcolm cocked his head to one side, observing her carefully. Charlotte felt no desire to hide her feelings about the man; she had known Malcolm all her life, and he could read her like a book.

“Lord Kilby?”

“Yes.”

“And… what did he want?”

“I believe, before you arrived, he was in the throes of proposing to me.”

Malcolm stared at Charlotte in utter amazement, trying to discover from her expression how she might feel about what she had just said. To his mind, she looked miserable, but he was uncertain whether to point that out to her.

“And how would you have answered?”

Charlotte’s face was highlighted by the glow of the fire, heavy shadows hung beneath her eyes, and her face, although still beautiful, was pale and drawn.

“I would have had little choice in the matter,” Charlotte whispered. “I have been told I must accept him.”

Malcolm’s heart broke for her. She looked devastated and he could well imagine why. Nothing could have prepared him for the interactions he had witnessed between the Duke of Lindenbrook and his cousin. The reserved and somewhat severe man he had known as a casual acquaintance was utterly transformed in her presence. In Malcolm’s romantic mind, they were meant for one another—just as he hoped to be with Lady Elizabeth.

“But why?” he blurted out. “Why so soon? You have just come back from caring for your mother for heaven’s sake.”

Charlotte slumped in her chair, glancing at her cousin and wondering how honest she should be with him. It was not necessarily her place to reveal her father’s position, and rumors of financial woes could get out quickly in the wrong hands—yet she trusted Malcolm with her life.

“Papa is concerned for the estate,” she said heavily. “When Mama deteriorated, it left him in the country for many months, unable to travel to town as regularly as he needed to. I knew nothing of this until we returned. He told me the cost of the season has taken its toll; it seems his one aim is to marry me off to someone who can help to get us into a safe position again. Lord Kilby represents that security.”

Malcolm’s face was calm, and kind, and it gave Charlotte a moment to pause and think of the world beyond her troubles for a moment.

“I am sorry to hear of this,” Malcolm said honestly. “Not because I wish to comment upon whom you should marry, but because you seem so downcast. What do you think you will do?”

“I am not sure,” Charlotte confessed. “Lord Kilby is not a bad choice. He seems to be a decent man…” she trailed off.

“But you had hopes for someone else?” Malcolm asked.

Charlotte glanced up at him and rubbed a hand over her face in despair. “Perhaps. In my foolish heart. I did.”

“There is nothing to say that you cannot still have that?”

“But think of what was being discussed yesterday. Papa is looking for security, yet the duke is now mired in his own scandal. If what is being said of his fortunes are true, then father would never allow it.”

“What is your objection to Lord Kilby?”

Charlotte leaned forward in her chair. “I am not sure. I just do not admire him in the same way. The duke is rather stoic when one first meets him, and then he opens up, and I have never found anyone so easy to talk to. Save for you.”

Malcolm smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgment. “Then I believe that is a legitimate objection.”

“Father will never hear of it.”

“Perhaps not, but he cannot force you to accept the man. All he can do is tell you what he wants to happen. That is not the same thing. It is difficult to delay such things, but there is nothing to say that you must accelerate them either. Keep an open mind. Sometimes things turn out well without us realizing they are on the route to change.”

Charlotte smiled. “And you?” she said carefully. “Have you spoken to Lady Elizabeth yet?”

“I see I am transparent as glass to you, cousin. No. I have not yet approached Lady Elizabeth.”

“But you will?”

“A man can hope.”

She held out her hand to him, and they sat before the fire, watching the flames, building one another’s strength as the afternoon closed in around them.

***

Colin sat at his desk, now littered not just with ledgers but with newspapers. The London press was brutal and had left no stone unturned with their investigations about his father.

No conclusions had yet been drawn, but there was so much speculation Colin could not imagine he could escape unscathed. He had come up with nothing new, and despite many more hours of reading and analysis, he had the same vague leads that led nowhere or created more questions than answers.

What he was sure of now was that his father’s dealings had not been as they should. Much in his research had raised questions, and the papers, if nothing else, had confirmed that he was correct in his suspicions. He was determined to continue to look into the facts and to clear his name if he had to, and exonerate those he cared about.

He stared at the documents laid out before him. Somewhere in the mess of papers lay a clue to the whole scandal, and he was more determined than ever to seek it out.

His thoughts moved to Lady Wentworth and the tangled web that seemed to tie them together. He wanted to ensure that her father was not involved, not only for himself but for Lady Wentworth too. She had been through enough with the death of her mother—she did not need to be embroiled in a scandal.

On opposite sides of the busy city of London, Lady Charlotte Wentworth and Lord Colin Ludlow examined the text before them with mounting hopes. Both longed for the same outcome, neither sure if it would come about.

But the one thing they shared above everything else was a determination to succeed in the face of society’s expectations and the pursuit of those they loved.