by Leah Conolly
“That was wonderful, Lady Suzanne,” he said, giving her his best apologetic smile. “I do hate to leave in such a hurry, but I have a pressing matter to attend to.”
Helena’s face fell instantly into a suspicious sneer.
“Oh, but darling,” she said. “The tea has only just arrived, and I am sure that the two of you have much more to discuss.”
Duncan choked back a laugh. He knew his mother well enough to assume that she had expected him to propose to Suzanne that very evening. He had no intention of ever doing any such thing, but especially not that night. Nevertheless, to pacify his mother and Lady Suzanne, whose face was also slowly falling, he walked over to Suzanne and took her hand, kissing it gently.
“It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, Lady Suzanne,” he said, injecting as much honied sweetness into his voice as he could. “You play and sing magnificently. I do regret rushing off, but I have some paperwork that I must finish before one of my cargo ships arrives early tomorrow morning.” It was mostly a true statement. He was expecting a shipment the following day, and he did need to check the invoice before it arrived. However, he had already found it that afternoon, and all it needed was his signature.
This satisfied Lady Suzanne at once. The compliment seemed to boost her already swollen ego, and she smiled brightly once more.
“You are too kind, my lord,” she said, curtseying deeply. “I had a wonderful time this evening.”
“As did I,” he said, bowing. He turned to his mother, who also seemed at least temporarily appeased by his explanation.
“Well, we certainly mustn’t keep you from your work,” she said. “Thank you so much for coming, darling. Would you like me to call the butler to show you out?”
Duncan walked over to his mother and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek.
“No, thank you, Mother,” he said. “I will show myself out.”
Chapter 27
As the day of Charlotte’s departure for France drew nearer, life returned to normal. Normal for everyone, that was, except for herself. Her initial panic gave way to defeat, and defeat begat resignation. She had hoped that she would find a permanent way out of her marriage to the Comte, especially once it became clear that he was even more vile than the rumors had told.
However, despite all the terrible things he had done since his arrival, her parents seemed utterly oblivious. She was unsure whether it was because they simply did not see it, or if they were turning a blind eye to his behavior, but she was certain that if she went to France with him, her life would be even worse than she had ever imagined.
In a final, desperate attempt to avoid going with the Comte, Charlotte locked herself in her room. She pulled out a piece of stationary and an inkwell she had hidden in her bedside table and sat at her desk. Her mother had gone out for tea, and her father was in town at a gentlemen’s club with Francois, so she felt certain she would not be disturbed.
Before she could give herself a chance to change her mind or overthink her words, she began to write:
Dear Duncan,
I do not know if you wish to hear from me. I do not even know if this letter will reach you. But I cannot leave England without at least trying to speak to you one last time.
I do not have the words to express how sorry I am for deceiving you. I did not do so out of any desire to hurt you, although I do not know if that offers any consolation. It was born from the need to keep the world from knowing who I am, so that I could avoid a fate that, in my mind, is comparable to death. I was trying to escape an arranged marriage to a repulsive man whom I do not love, and find a life that I chose for myself. As soon as I realized that I was falling in love with you, I knew that I must tell you who I really am and everything about me. Had I acted sooner, I would have told you and you would not have heard it from your mother and the constables. Please, know that I truly did intend to tell you the truth. That is why I agreed to dinner that night. I am sorry that I waited so long, and that things happened as they did.
I do not know if my words bring any consolation, or if they change anything. I certainly do not know if I deserve your forgiveness, but I felt that you at least deserve an explanation and my sincerest apology. I really do love you, Duncan, though I do not blame you if you have trouble believing me. But, as I said, I could not depart for France without telling you everything.
I hope this letter reaches you, even if I do not get the chance to see you before our ship sails. I love you, Duncan, and I am certain that I always will.
All my love,
Charlotte Hackney
Charlotte pulled out an envelope from her desk and quickly sealed the letter inside. She hastily scribbled Duncan’s address on the envelope, then slipped out of her bedroom door. She hesitated, listening for any sign that her parents or the Comte had returned home, but she was greeted by total silence. She tiptoed down the stairs, looking for the butler. He had worked with their family since she was a child, and she had always liked him. If anyone would help get her letter to Duncan, it would be him.
She turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, preparing to head down the hallway to see if the butler was tending to other duties elsewhere in the house. As she stepped into the hallway, she nearly ran straight into her father. She gasped, quickly putting her hands behind her back.
The earl looked Charlotte over, his face a stern scowl.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Charlotte smiled nervously.
“I was just going to go out into the gardens,” she said quickly.
Her father peeked over her shoulder to her clasped hands, which were trying desperately to hide the letter.
“What is it you have there?” he asked.
Charlotte shook her head, her heart sinking.
“Nothing of importance,” she said, trying to hold her father’s gaze.
The earl smirked.
“Then surely you will not mind if I take a look,” he said.
He reached behind her and snatched the letter from her trembling hands before she could protest. He tore it open and read it, his face reddening as he did so.
When he was finished, he held the letter up to Charlotte’s face.
“What did I tell you?” he asked, his voice hard and cold.
“Father, please,” she began, but the earl held up his other hand.
“You will return to your room this instant,” he said. “I will ensure that you do not leave it. As for this,” he held up the letter and began shredding it to pieces in front of her. “It will never be seen or spoken of again.”
He finished tearing up the letter, then turned away from her and headed to the library, where a fire was burning. Charlotte did not need to watch him to know that he tossed the letter into the flames. With a sob, she ran up the stairs and into her room once more. A moment later, Charlotte heard the faint click of the lock. As promised, her father had locked her in. She buried her face in her hands and cried.
* * *
The morning before she was to leave for France, Ruth entered Charlotte’s room just as she was waking. She practically leapt from her bed and threw her arms around her maid.
“Oh, Ruth,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I have missed you.”
Her maid hugged her tightly for a moment, then released her.
“Have you tried speaking with your parents again about the Comte?” she asked.
Charlotte shook her head sadly.
“It is no use,” she said. “They are convinced that I am simply telling lies to get out of this marriage.”
Ruth nodded slowly and sat in the chair by the window.
“So, it is off with the Comte for us tomorrow, then,” she said.
Charlotte winced at the statement. Ruth sounded even more dejected than she felt, and she recalled how excited her maid had once been about traveling to France, and guilt flooded her once more.
“Perhaps it will not be all bad,” Charlotte said. “We will still be able to visit all k
inds of wonderful places in Paris, and I am sure that there are beautiful parks, just as you were hoping.”
Ruth nodded again but said nothing. Charlotte’s heart broke. It was bad enough when it was she alone that was hurting. Now her dearest friend had lost all her previous optimism, and she could offer no words of comfort. More than ever, she wished that she had Duncan to turn to. The very thought made her burst into tears, and she covered her face with her hands.
“I wish that we could have stayed in London with Duncan,” she said, sobbing quietly. “I miss him so much. I cannot believe all this has happened.”
A firm grip on her arms made her look up. Through her tear-blurred vision, she saw Ruth frowning at her. She blinked, trying to focus on her friend’s face.
“You should have been the one to tell him what happened,” Ruth said, her voice cracking with tears of her own. “Things should not have happened the way they did. It should have been you who told him.”
Her friend’s words, though raw and rough, were true. Charlotte’s inability to right her wrongs before the authorities became involved was the reason everything had ended so badly.
“I know,” Charlotte whispered. “I should have said something after the first time Lady Helena confronted me.”
Ruth nodded firmly.
“Yes, you should have,” she said.
Charlotte’s sobs grew louder.
“I am so sorry, Ruth,” she said. “I never wanted to hurt you too.”
Ruth stood back, looking at Charlotte with bewilderment.
“Hurt me?” she asked. “My lady, I am upset for you. Because the duchess brought the authorities to Lord Willeton’s home, you are now forced to wed what is certainly one of the worst men in the world. Had you spoken with Lord Willeton first, all of this might have been avoided.”
Charlotte nodded, tears streaming freely down her face.
“And because of my cowardice, you will be dragged into all of it with me,” she said.
Ruth shook her head.
“I go with you willingly my lady,” she said. “I could just as easily choose to remain here, or even quit my position with your family. I will not, because I will not allow you to suffer that terrible man alone.”
Charlotte looked at her maid in wonder.
“Why are you so good to me?” she asked.
Ruth smiled at her sadly.
“Why do you feel that you do not deserve goodness or happiness?” she countered.
Charlotte stared at her dumbly. It was true. If she had thought more of herself, even after the lies she had told Duncan, she would have told him everything. Then she would be with Duncan and avoided having to marry the Comte.
Instead, she had somehow convinced herself that she and Duncan could never be together because she had lied to him, and she had brought everything that had happened on herself. She could not even place all the blame on Helena. If she had just admitted her wrongs and tried to correct them at once, she would have stood a chance of being with Duncan. At least, she likely would not be forced into a life she dreaded.
“You are too good to me,” she said, hugging Ruth again.
“And you are not good enough to yourself,” Ruth said, gently patting Charlotte’s back.
Charlotte took a deep breath before releasing her maid. She put on her bravest face and looked at Ruth.
“Well,” she said. “There is nothing to be done about it now. I must learn to accept my fate and make the best of what’s to come, whatever that may be.”
Ruth looked at her, her face still sad, but also determined.
“I will be with you every step of the way,” she said.
Charlotte blinked away fresh tears.
“Thank you, Ruth,” she said. “What ever would I do without you?”
Ruth laughed through her own tears.
“Well, I know that what we must do is get everything ready for us to depart tomorrow,” she said.
“Yes,” Charlotte said, sounding more confident and decisive than she felt. “We must.”
Chapter 28
“Whoa, there,” Duncan said, holding up his hand to a dock worker. One of the boxes of cargo was swinging too wildly in the air, and Duncan feared that it would plummet onto the ship and shatter, spilling all the wine inside.
Watching the crate wobble made his stomach twist, and he forced himself to push away the memory that was surfacing in his mind. As painful as it was for him, he needed to push away all thoughts of Christine. It was his first real day of being involved in his business again, and he could not afford any distractions.
The dock hands ceased their progress at once and stabilized the crate. Once it was nearly still, Duncan motioned for them to continue lowering it.
“My lord,” one of the dock hands said. “It looks as though we may run out of room on the ship.”
Duncan stared at him, confused.
“What do you mean, run out of room?” he asked.
“Well,” the dock hand said, looking nervous. “There is twice the normal amount being shipped out, because the last shipment was pushed back, due to . . .” The dock hand trailed off.
Duncan winced. The man did not need to finish what he was about to say. Duncan knew well why the last shipment had been delayed. It was because he had shirked his business duties, including tending to the shipment orders that went out once or twice a month. And of course, it had not occurred to him that such a problem would ever arise, or to plan for such an event.
“How much room is left?” he asked the man, trying to stall for time.
The dock hand looked at the ship, then back to the unloaded cargo.
“If I had to guess,” he said. “I’d say we could load another seven or eight crates, at most.”
Duncan cursed silently. How could he have been so careless? And how could he fix the problem now?
“How quickly can we prepare a second ship?” he asked.
The dock hand looked relieved.
“There is one that was just unloaded, over there,” he said, pointing to a ship beside theirs. “It should be ready within an hour.”
Duncan, too, felt relief.
“Very good,” he said. “Set some workers about putting the extra cargo on that ship.”
The man smiled and trotted off to comply with Duncan’s request. Duncan turned his back to the dock hands and the freight, so that no one would see his shaken expression.
That had been a close call, and, when he returned home that evening, Duncan knew he would have to work doubly hard to ensure that no such incidents occurred in future. He was just beginning to regain the trust of his men and repair the recent botched business deals, and he could not afford a single mistake.
“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind Duncan.
He started and turned around quickly to find himself face-to-face with one of his business connections.
“Mr. Larson,” he said. “Good day. How are you?”
Paul Larson looked at Duncan, a confused smirk on his face.
“Did you forget about our meeting today?” he asked.
Duncan froze. He scrambled through his thoughts, trying to recall scheduling a meeting with anyone that day. He typically did not arrange any meetings or obligations on the days that cargo was being shipped or received. He thought hard, but he could not remember any letters exchanged or any conversations had during the week that would have led to such a meeting.
“I apologize, Mr. Larson,” he said. “I suppose I did. I normally do not meet with people when I am dealing with cargo. Did I write you a letter?”
Paul shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Though, perhaps I should have. I spoke with Lady Helena, and she said that you would be here at about this time, and that you would be glad to meet with me. She said that she would let you know about our appointment.”
Duncan’s jaw tightened. Mother, he thought bitterly.
Duncan looked at the gentleman and smiled.
“I am sure that she has just
been preoccupied and forgot to mention it to me,” he said, giving the man his best, carefree smile. “What was it that you wanted to discuss?”
Before Paul could respond, the two men heard shouts coming from the crew handling the cargo. Duncan gave Paul an apologetic smile.
“This is why I don’t usually take meetings when I am needed here,” he said. “Is there any way we can arrange to meet later this evening, or perhaps tomorrow?”
