CHAPTER THREE

Colin stood before the fire in his study, uncertain what course to take next.

In his hand, he held an import agreement that bore his father’s signature. The details of it had confused him to such a degree that he was now paralyzed by indecision. His father had made a series of transactions relating to exotic imports—luxuries like silks, rare spices, and even delicate porcelain items from the Orient. Many of the goods had a high yield but were also incredibly unpredictable, subject to demand and the risks of long journeys across the sea.

The duke had agreed to import the items on consignment, taking on liability without guaranteed returns. It was a substantial risk and entirely at odds with the man he knew. His father had once told him that speculation was for fools. He had always made tangible investments in stable commodities such as grain or timber. The document in his hand contradicted everything he thought he knew of his father’s nature.

When he was eighteen the late duke had sat him down and proudly explained the family business to him. Little by little, he had given his son more responsibility over the years, but now that Colin was in control, he realized just how much his father had concealed. Whether the duke felt it was not Colin’s place to know or simply did not think to tell him, Colin wasn’t sure.

Or he was in such a terrible position he could not explain it to me because he was too ashamed to do so.

That thought had been running around his head all day. The idea that his father had left the estate in rack and ruin made his stomach clench unpleasantly. But Colin was determined to discover the truth. If nothing else, he had to understand if things were salvageable. So far, he had plenty of evidence of hasty or foolish decisions, but they alone would not destroy a fortune overnight.

He started violently as the door to his study opened, his mother striding into the room without knocking.

“Why are you still working?” she asked, her tone making Colin’s teeth clench tightly together. “You have not got long. You promised you would attend Lady Constance’s event this evening. Please do not let me down; she is relying on you.”

Colin hastily folded up the agreement and placed it in the drawer of his desk before turning to face his mother and trying to keep his temper in check.

“Emotion has no place in business, boy.”

If his father were standing before him now, he would simply command Colin to find a wife for himself and would expect a result before the night’s end. The late duke had been authoritarian and uncompromising in all areas of his life. Colin did not need his mother to remind him of his duty; he knew it very well.

“There are a few hours until the ball, Mama,” he said, forcing civility into his tone. “I will go and change directly.”

“Good, and I do not wish to see you wearing any of that casual nonsense your friend Lord Hayesworth employs. I want you there as the Duke of Lindenbrook.”

“I am the Duke of Lindenbrook.”

“Indeed, yet whenever you enter a room, you try to fade into the shadows. Your father would never have allowed that.”

Colin bit his tongue to prevent himself from shouting. That is simply not true. He wanted to scream at her, and make her realize how much effort he always made at every event he attended.

At the last ball, he had danced no less than five of the seven sets and had a blister on the sole of his foot for a week. It was beyond bearing that she would accuse him of hiding when all he had ever done was try to be like his father.

His mother was oblivious to his fury. She merrily counted on her fingers who would be there that evening.

“Lady Penrose will likely appear with her odious son. Her daughter has married very well indeed, however. I saw them promenading last weekend, and they are quite the most elegant couple. Lady Winterbourne has cancelled due to sickness. I do not believe I have ever seen her healthy...”

Colin remained where he was, nodding at intervals as he listened to his mother prattle on about the eligible women he would meet tonight.

In truth, the thought of marriage was something that filled him with dread. He had met plenty of very pleasant ladies in his time, but all of them had left him cold.

Colin was not good at expressing his feelings. He had never learned affection from those around him, after all. It often perplexed him that his parents had so longed for children yet when Colin eventually arrived, they had rarely shown him any warmth at all.

Perhaps I am simply impossible to care for. What kind of woman would choose a man like me?

“Colin, are you listening to me?”

“You have been listing women's names for the past five minutes together, Mama. As far as I am aware I can only choose one wife, or do you wish for me to propose to them all?”

Colin snapped his mouth shut, but the damage had been done. He had allowed his temper to get the better of him, and his mother’s eyes widened comically for a moment before her cheeks heated in a violent blush.

“I see,” her voice was small and quiet now. “I was merely endeavouring to prepare you for the company you might need to entertain this evening. Clearly, you have matters well in hand.”

Colin came out from behind the desk and approached her. The guilt in his chest only grew as he saw the hint of tears at the back of her eyes as he took her hand.

“I am sorry. It has been a trying day. I am grateful to you for what you have told me, truly. I did not mean to lose my temper.”

His mother swallowed, pulling her hand from his and stepping away, her throat working as she fought with her emotions. Even a simple brush of a hand was rare between them.

I touch my valet more than I do my own mother.

“I am going to go and get ready for the ball. I shall instruct Carter that I must be dressed to impress,” he said.

That won him a faint smile, and he swiftly left the room before her unhappiness faded and she began speaking of eligible ladies all over again.

***

Charlotte stared at her reflection in astonishment.

While caring for her mother for the last three years, how she looked had become secondary. She needed practical clothing that would not matter if it became soiled and she had barely looked in a mirror once per day, always at her mother’s bedside or reading to her late into the night.

It was only when Sarah entered the room and audibly gasped at her appearance that Charlotte hurried to the full-length mirror to ensure she wasn’t wearing something entirely inappropriate. Quite the contrary. She looked like a lady.

When her father had told her he had ‘selected a gown’ for her, Charlotte’s heart sank to the floor. Although her father was well-versed in gentlemen’s fashion, a lady’s dress was very different from the right sort of waistcoat or fob watch.

The dress, however, was perfect—dark green in color and embroidered with gold stitching in a floral design. The sweeping silk of the skirt fit her perfectly, widening out from her narrow waist where a band of gold settled just below the corset. Delicate lace lined the bodice, and the capped sleeves were beautifully complimented by elegant white gloves that reached over her elbow.

“Oh, my Lady,” Sarah said, coming further into the room and smiling widely. “You look absolutely glorious.”

Charlotte tweaked the skirt, unsure what to do with such a compliment. She was not used to such attention, and Sarah’s eyes were full of something that looked like awe. It was unnerving.

“Sarah, I look the same as I always do, only in a finer dress.”

“No. None of that. You look beautiful. You look as you should for your debut. Your mother would be proud.”

Charlotte managed a strained smile, trying to hide how much those words cut to her soul. Her mother would have loved this dress. She had always been Charlotte’s biggest supporter and confidante. Not having her beside her today was a fresh pain she had not anticipated.

“You look very lovely, too,” Charlotte said, looking Sarah over. “Is that a new dress?”

“Your father told me I was to accompany you and not disgrace you. He purchased this at the same time as yours, I believe.”

Sarah’s dress was much more understated than Charlotte’s, made from muslin and pale in color, but it complimented her dark hair. Charlotte’s strawberry blonde hair was tied up nearly at the back of her head and secured with a green ribbon to match her dress. She did feel pretty when she looked at her reflection, and she was glad that her father would find her suitable.

Her fingers were trembling, and she had to keep them busy to hide her nerves.

She did not feel ready to walk back into society so soon. Charlotte had chosen to miss her debut—and everything that came after it—in order to care for her mother. If given the choice again, she would do exactly the same. Still, it did not help her feel any less worried for the night ahead.

Images stormed her mind of saying something utterly foolish to the wrong person or tripping over her feet during a dance and sending the entire ballroom into disarray. The worries ebbed and flowed through her mind, and no matter how she tried to dispel them, new scenarios kept coming.

She walked to her dressing table to retrieve her fan, only to hear hushed voices near the door. Charlotte recognized two of the maids speaking together just outside.

“But it’s so late in the season!”

“I know. She’s never been to a ball before. Lord knows what she must be feeling. I thought her father would never let her out in society. Not after all this time.”

“And with only her mother for company, too, she has become quite peculiar. She rarely speaks, spending all her time in the gardens these days—when she does address all of us, she always seems so pale and sad. His Lordship is terribly private, too. Nothing can have prepared her for that world. Nothing. I wouldn’t wish to be in her shoes; I’ll tell you that for nothing.”

Charlotte felt her ears grow hot at the rude commentary on her life and she was about to storm outside and confront them. With an effort, she stayed put, angry that such gossip was even present in her own home. She knew each maid by name, having run the household for much of her mother’s confinement, and didn’t appreciate them criticizing a decision they knew had been taken out of her hands.

Charlotte straightened as she turned to Sarah with a brave smile.

I am going to prove them wrong and show the world just how capable Charlotte Wentworth can be.

***

Colin kept a firm grip on his mother’s hand as they entered the ballroom. Lady Constance had an impressive home and a beautiful space for her dances.

The room was long and wide, with viewing balconies along the left-hand wall. On the right, large windows looked out on the torch-lit grounds with huge grey curtains sweeping to the floor. Two enormous chandeliers hung from the ceilings, adorned with candles and glittering beautifully.

The air was thick with perfume and chatter as the guests mingled and wandered about in sparse groups. Colin kept his face in a suitable mask of polite indifference as he escorted the dowager duchess through the crowds. He kept his head held high and exuded the authority that came with his station and title, but in his heart, he counted the minutes until he could leave.

Ahead of them, Colin recognized the twin blonde heads of his aunt and cousin. Lady Constance turned to them, smiling broadly, in a glittering white dress of sparkling satin. Elizabeth, Colin’s favorite cousin, and longtime friend, also looked very pleased to see them both.

“Oh, my dear, I am so glad you are here,” Lady Constance said hurriedly as the two ladies leaned in close. “I have been anticipating your arrival,” Constance whispered. “You know that Lady Templeton has come fresh from her sojourn at Loch Lomond, and I simply must find out the details.”

Colin caught Elizabeth’s meaningful look as their mothers exulted in the excitement of anyone going as far as Scotland for a portion of the season.

He edged his way around to Elizabeth’s side and found his nerves settled a little at her presence. Elizabeth was small, like her mother, petite with very pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She had a wicked sense of humor, and Colin had told her more than once that she was too clever for her own good.

“You look quite the thing this evening,” Elizabeth said, surprising him. “I have never seen you look so handsome, in fact. Are you trying to impress a mysterious lady?”

“Yes,” he answered sardonically. “However, there is no mystery to it. She is called ‘ Mama’ and has been hounding me to look my best, so I do not send your mother into a fit of the vapors.”

Elizabeth snorted rather inelegantly and raised her fan to hide it. “Well, whatever she had convinced you of, you have excelled yourself.”

“Your earrings are very pretty,” Colin managed, never certain how to compliment a woman, and rolled his eyes when Elizabeth gave a gentle laugh at his expense. She seemed pleased, however.

“Thank you. They were my grandmother’s. She always told me they would bring me good fortune.”

“And have they?” he asked, interested despite himself.

“Do you know, I found a shilling on the ground on the way back from the modiste this morning.”

“Were you wearing them at the time?”

“No, but then, I imagine their influence spreads across half of London.”

Colin found himself smiling at that. Elizabeth had a dry wit that always improved his mood, but just as he was enjoying their discussion, she was called away to see to something her mother required, and Colin was left alone.

Mindful of his mother’s rather unpleasant comments earlier that day, he chose not to walk about the very edge of the room and began to make his way slowly through the crowds, mingling about the company and nodding to several acquaintances who he passed.

He noticed Edward on the other side of the room, engaged in an animated discussion with a group of gentlemen, but as soon as Edward noticed him, he bid farewell to the group and made his way over.

“Your Grace,” he said, bowing in a most ridiculous manner and making Colin sigh in exasperation. “An honour as ever.”

“Do be serious, you fool,” Colin replied with feeling. “You are making people stare.”

“As well they might with so esteemed a personage. I was concerned you might not attend at all. The hour is so late, I felt you might have managed to escape your mother’s clutches for once.”

He kept his voice low, but Colin gave him a warning glare. It would not do for people to think he was ruled by the whims of the duchess.

“Believe me,” he answered dryly, “it was not for lack of trying.”

***

Charlotte entered the ballroom with nerves so acute she thought she might swoon.

Her father’s arm comforted her, but she knew better than to expect him to be her guardian all night. As soon as he could, he would escape to the card room, and she would not see him again for hours.

The ballroom all around her was an overwhelming riot of color and people. Charlotte was not only contending with the fact that this was her debut in society—but also that she had never attended a ball before.

She felt on display and horribly isolated as they walked through the crowd, attempting to draw on her inner reserves of strength.

I suppose there is one benefit to experiencing the trauma of losing my mother so young—I have already faced many trials in life, and I know I am stronger than I feel.

“Ah,” came a voice from nearby, “now that is Lady Charlotte Wentworth, daughter of The Marchioness of Wensingdale… her mother passed away…no, she never had a debut…a pale little thing, isn’t she…”

And so, it went on as Charlotte attempted to keep her composure. She was clearly the subject of as much gossip as she had expected, but it did not make it any easier to bear. Her fingers tightened on her reticule, where her journal was hidden from view. It had once brought her strength when she needed it most, and she had kept it close for the same reason tonight.

She pasted on a smile as her father introduced her to several eligible men, who eyed her in a way that made her skin crawl. She was only nineteen, but some of them looked at her as though she were thirty, confused by her very existence.

To her horror, her father seemed to think he had done his duty and muttered something about refreshments before he walked away. She was left in a mixed group of men and women, none of whom she knew. She kept smiling, praying they would not see through the fragile facade. The judgment on their faces was a stark reminder of the life she had left behind. She could no longer hide in the country, not if she expected to live a normal life for a lady of her station.

The thoughts whirling around her head were calmed slightly at the sight of a familiar figure approaching her. She smiled at her cousin, Lord Malcolm Preston, who sidled swiftly through the crowd, his sights set on her and his smile firmly in place.

“My dear Lady Wentworth,” he said with more force than usual. “I am so pleased to see you.”

His expression was all sincerity, and Charlotte was even more relieved when he subtly drew her away from the mingling crowd to a patch of floor that seemed less crowded.

Malcolm assessed his cousin critically for a few moments. She looked very beautiful indeed and was putting a brave face on it, but she was far too pale for his liking.

As a servant passed them by, he picked up two glasses of wine from the tray and handed her one encouragingly.

“How are you faring?” he kept his voice low. “I was not sure if you would come tonight. I am thrilled to see you looking so well.”

Charlotte huffed a laugh as she took a healthy swallow of her drink. “Thank you. I did not know you would be here, and it is good to see a friendly face.”

“How has it been so far? Have you received any proposals?”

Charlotte snorted into her glass and Malcolm grinned as she recovered herself, a tinkling laugh escaping her as she shook her head.

“You are such a fool, Lord Preston. I do not know why I put up with you.”

In truth, Charlotte was thrilled to have a few moments alone with Malcolm. He was one of the few people who had written to her throughout her mother’s illness. As an only child, she had no siblings, but Malcolm was the closest thing to a brother she had. He was handsome, with thick blond hair and dark brown eyes that looked almost black in the candlelight.

“Are you here with your mother?” Charlotte asked, hoping her aunt was not in attendance. She was a waspish unpleasant sort of woman who her father loathed.

“Alas, no, she is in Bath for her health.”

Charlotte frowned, any mention of ill health flooding her mind with images of her mother. “Her health? Has she been ill?”

Malcolm’s eyes were gently amused as he looked at her. “Well, let us say she thinks she has been ill. And that is all I will say on the matter. But the waters are doing her good. I have told her she should stay for as long as needed, and I shall keep our beautifully quiet and calm townhouse safe until she returns.”

Charlotte hid a smile behind her glass as Malcolm took a sip of his own. As he did so, however, his eye seemed caught on the other side of the room. Trying not to appear too obvious, Charlotte looked in the direction of his gaze.

She recognized the lady in question. It was a Lady Elizabeth Ludlow. She was quite captivating now that Charlotte looked at her in detail. She had an enormous amount of curly blonde hair that was tied about her head with several silver ribbons, and she wore a deep blue gown that was one of the few of such a rich color in the room. She certainly stood out.

Turning back to her cousin, she found Malcolm still looking at Lady Ludlow and felt warmth fill her chest that he might have made an attachment.

“I have been gone a long time, it would seem,” she said with amusement and Malcolm, realizing he had been caught staring, actually blushed .

“Oh, I was not… that is to say,” he cleared his throat several times and sighed heavily. “Is it that evident?”

“I am afraid so, yes, but then, I have known you a terribly long time, and I have never seen you blush before.”

Malcolm glowered at her in mock outrage and Charlotte felt her nerves reduce even further at their teasing friendship.

“Are you sure you are alright? I can imagine this must be quite an adjustment from your life in the country.”

Charlotte thought of her mother’s weak hand held in hers night after night. The stories she would read to her, the slowly ebbing candle that seemed to echo the inevitable decline of her mother’s health. She mustered a half-hearted smile, gripping her reticule all the tighter.

“I have something to occupy myself at least,” she replied.

Malcolm frowned. “Oh yes? And what is that?”

“I am eager to see how long it will take you to ask Lady Ludlow to dance. I might even place a wager it will be fewer than ten minutes together.”

Malcolm ran a hand awkwardly through his hair and frowned at her as she laughed at him, but Charlotte was only half joking. She had never seen that look of intensity in her cousin’s eyes before, and it made her wonder what else she had missed while she had been away.