CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The next morning, Charlotte woke with the journal beside her bed on the pillow.

Light streamed through the curtains. She had slept deeply for the first time in a few days and felt well-rested. Sitting up, her hands moved to open it automatically, her thoughts moving to the duke and how she might be able to persuade her father of their position.

What if I tell him the duke has designs upon me and then discover he has nothing of the kind?

She brushed her hair out of her face and read through a few of the pages, flicking through carefully, reading each line, noting a nuance here, a new tear-stain there.

Eventually, she came upon a passage between the affair being discovered and the night of her wedding.

"August 8, 1790 – Despite knowing that my life as I had pictured it is over, I believe that good can come from change. I love Auric with all my heart, but there is nothing to be done. Father believes that the Wentworth’s are a better match for our family. He has been clear on the matter, and tonight we spoke as equals for the first time. He will never agree to the Ludlow’s joining our bloodline, and that is the way things will stay. I can do nothing but my duty and defer my dreams for the sake of my family. Who is to say that things will not turn out for the better? No one knows the future after all.

Despite the sincerity of the passage, all the entries following spoke of her broken heart, of the wrenching pain she felt at not being able to be with Auric. Charlotte’s eyes remained on a single word in her mother’s hand.

Duty.

She swallowed, closing the book as tears filled her eyes. All her hopes and beliefs were futile when they could never meet with her father’s approval. To the marquess, Lord Kilby was the only choice.

Her fingers moved over the top of the journal and down the spine, knowing in her heart that what her mother had written was true. There was nothing she could do.

It was all over.

***

Colin’s hand shook. It seemed that every paper in London had got wind of the story now, and his father’s name was splashed across every sordid rag sheet the city had to offer.

He threw them into the fire, running his fingers through his hair as he paced back and forth, trying to make sense of it all.

He felt as though the walls were shrinking around him, whispering to him of impropriety and underhanded dealings in parliament. None of it was new information but to see it in the neat black and white print of the papers was a different feeling.

Why had the rumours spread, and where had they spread from? Father has been dead for three years!

The door to the study opened as a footman announced the arrival of Lord Hayesworth. Colin bid him enter, and Edward strode into the room, waiting for the footman to withdraw before walking to the desk.

Colin scrubbed a hand over his stubbled cheek, gazing at his friend with new fear running through him.

“There is more?”

Edward’s eyes moved to the fire. “I hope you have burned all of the papers for what they have said. Some of it is pure slander!”

“I know. Not all of it is true, but you and I both know that a little of it is, and therefore, I am in a position of having to defend a man who was imperfect and not absolved from wrongdoing.”

Edward took a seat, and Colin lowered himself into his chair opposite him. “Tell me then, as simply as you can, what has happened.”

Edward leaned forward, his eyes earnest and gentle as Colin waited for him to speak.

“I was at the club this morning, and several of your business associates were meeting together discussing whether they would need to distance themselves from you. They fear, as you do, that they are tainted by your father’s name.”

Despite the gravity of Edward’s words, Colin’s mind moved to Lady Wentworth. Strangely, the thought of her beautiful face and sensible disposition brought a moment of calm amidst the storm inside his mind.

He thought of what she might think of the scandal, wondering if she had seen the papers this morning—or if her father had. He swallowed nervously, knowing that this scandal could have ramifications he could not predict. These rumours, if they were not explained or beaten down, could overshadow every chance of happiness he might have known.

“Ludlow? Did you hear me?”

Colin glanced up at Edward, realizing he had been silent for many minutes. “I did. I am sorry. I was considering my options. Are you able to stay today?”

Edward nodded vigorously. “You know I would take this all upon my shoulders if I could. I hate to see you so downcast.”

“Here,” Colin said, handing him the latest folder he had been working through that morning. “Check through these, and I shall start on my own.”

He rose and rang the bell for tea, and the two men got to work.

Several hours later, while Edward and Colin took a break before the fire the late post arrived. Colin set down his cup as he looked through his letters, his stomach turning over as he saw the neat scrawl of his solicitor. Whitby rarely wrote to him at home unless it was an emergency.

His hands clammy, he opened the letter under Edward’s watchful eye.

Dear Duke of Lindenbrook,

I am writing to inform you of some worrisome correspondence I have received today.

Several investors are threatening to withdraw their support from some of the land development projects that we had been discussing. I have also had a number of letters from tenants concerned about the renewal of their lease in the wake of your father’s scandal.

I wish to reassure you that I have responded to all of the letters in kind, explaining that an investigation is underway, and they will be informed as soon as our position is made clear.

However, I would advise you to visit the investors listed in the enclosed document to ensure their support is not withdrawn.

This would have a substantial impact on your position at present.

Yours faithfully,

Mr. Magnus C. Whitby

Colin lowered the letter, putting a hand over his eyes as his head fell back against the top of the chair. He could feel Edward watching him and simply thrust the letter in his direction for him to read.

“My God, it is all falling around my ears,” Colin said desperately. “This is not simply my father’s reputation that we are talking about. Now that the investors are threatening to withdraw their funds—on projects that have been in play for two years or more—my estates will bear the brunt.”

He stood, tugging at his waistcoat as he went to stand before the fire. The leaping flames seemed to taunt him in their merry dance as he picked up the poker and jabbed viciously at them, his mind spiraling into several possibilities at once, all of them worse than the last.

His mind moved to his loyal tenants, many of them who had lived and raised families on his land for decades. How would he ever look them in the eye and tell them that his own father, who they trusted with their livelihoods, had let them down so appallingly?

“What am I to do?” he muttered.

The urge to flee, to escape the suffocating pressure of London society, was overwhelming. He would give anything to be a different man, not tied to his damnable father, and free to live as he chose somewhere far away, where no one knew of him.

But then, everyone would assume what the papers had printed was true, and he would have no way of defending himself.

Besides, if I ran away, I would no longer see Lady Wentworth. She has given me such joy of late; I could not imagine being without her now.

***

Despite the proposal not yet having taken place, Charlotte’s father was insistent that they would hold a small dinner party in honour of the impending event.

Despite her misgivings and intense feelings of dislike at having to attend such an event, she had little choice but to support and help him organize it.

Her father was not a natural host, and that sort of thing had always fallen to her mother in the years of Charlotte’s youth. She had often sat in her bed listening to the raucous goings-on downstairs, wondering what they all could be speaking of.

If only I could hide in my room tonight and never come out again.

Increasingly, she felt that she was watching herself from a distance, going through the motions of a life that no longer felt like her own. The more she planned and discussed the arrangements with her father, the further it seemed from reality.

He had been in high spirits ever since Lord Kilby had called upon her. Despite their engagement being far from agreed, he seemed to think that the actual proposal was merely a formality.

Charlotte did not point out that the very idea of holding a lavish dinner when her father had told her how little money, they had left was the height of hypocrisy. The marquess would hear nothing against the plan and even arranged several courses of food for the occasion.

That evening, the guests arrived.

There was no one there who was not linked to her father in some way, and Charlotte was not close to any of them. The mere thought of the dinner seemed increasingly farcical, and the closer it came to sitting at the table, the more Charlotte’s mind moved to the duke. His absence was a physical ache that she could not dispel.

As she took her seat beside Lord Kilby, he offered her a warm smile and she returned it, noting the excitement in his face at her more friendly manner toward him. The words of her mother’s journal were constantly scrawled at the back of her mind as though written in bold above her head for all the world to see. She could do her duty; that, after all, was all she had left.

“You look very well this evening, Lady Wentworth.”

Charlotte thought that the man had to be blind; she had caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror before heading down to the room, and she looked drawn and pale.

“Thank you, Lord Kilby, that is most kind.”

But her attention was quickly caught by another conversation on the other side of the table that made her sit up straighter in her chair. Lord Guthrie, a close friend of her father was spitting food over the table as he spoke.

“Well, I heard that the Duke of Lindenbrook hasn’t left his house in days. Since the ball, there has been no movement at all. If that doesn’t speak of his guilt, I do not know what does.”

Charlotte closed her eyes briefly as she looked down at her food.

“Is it the duke himself who is implicated?” someone asked.

Guthrie waved a hand. “No, no, it is all on his father, but I would wager the current duke will benefit from his father’s ill-advised decisions.”

“Not if he loses his fortune, he won’t,” her father piped up, and he and Lord Kilby exchanged a meaningful look.

Charlotte wanted to run from the room or scream just to see what the company would do. But instead, she sat silently, poking at her food, feeling sick to her stomach.

Lord Kilby was unexpectedly quiet that evening, barely speaking to her but appearing interested in the conversation about the Ludlow fortunes. Charlotte had never seen him so enraptured by anything, his eyes rarely leaving the group unless it was to focus on his plate.

As the supper drew to a close and the guests rose from the table to retire to the drawing room, she felt a gentle hand on her elbow and turned, her heart sinking at Lord Kilby’s expression.

“I wonder if I might request a private moment with you, Lady Wentworth.”

Her spirits lowered ever further as she noticed the footmen had opened the rear doors that led into the gardens.

This is all agreed then. All I must do is arrive at the appointed time.

“Of course, my Lord,” she said slowly, her fingers plucking at the edge of her gown.

His smile seemed rather gleeful as they slowly made their way through the doors and into the quiet of the garden. It was a sultry evening, with the humidity clinging in the air, while the stars twinkled above their heads.

In any other world, with any other man, this might have been the pinnacle of her life. But Charlotte could not muster any joy at what was to come.

As Lord Kilby led her to a stone bench amidst the flowers, she sat down, smoothing her gown as he sat beside her.

“Lady Wentworth, you must know that I have been desirous to speak with you upon this topic for some time. We were interrupted before, but now I feel confident that I will be able to express myself as I wish.”

Charlotte did not know where to look and focused her attention on a place just to the right of his left ear.

“I am quite overcome. I have never known a lady like you, and I have enjoyed our time getting to know one another in these past few weeks,” his eyes glinted in the moonlight. “I believe we could build a life together, a good life, and make each other happy.”

His words are everything society says I should want, but all I feel is fear.

“Lady Wentworth, our families are destined to be joined by our union. You and I will be the talk of the town, the envy of everyone around us.” His teeth glinted as he looked up at the night sky for a moment before fixing his eyes on her once more. “I do not wish to delay any longer. I have approached your father, and he is agreeable to this match. I would ask you most fondly for your hand in marriage and do everything I can to deserve you for as long as life grants us.”

As long as life grants us, how long that sounds.

Charlotte’s shoulders hurt from how tightly they were held upright. She pasted a smile on her lips, knowing that any other reaction would show her displeasure more clearly than anything.

Though eloquently put, Lord Kilby’s words did not speak of love or happiness but only of what their union could lead to in their social circles. She knew he did not love her. And now, by some cruel twist of fate, as she sat with another man asking for her hand in the darkness, her true feelings for the duke were finally revealed to her.

I know I do not love Lord Kilby because I love the Duke of Lindenbrook with all my heart.

An owl hooted somewhere in the trees above them. If the duke were here, he would have remarked upon it, and the comment would almost certainly have made her laugh. She looked at Lord Kilby as her heart seemed to slow, watching herself from a distance as she followed the path of duty and threw her heart to the winds.

“Yes, my Lord,” she said solemnly. “I would be happy to accept.”