Page 3 of An Icy Christmas Engagement
No one knew of Caroline’s secret life writing romance novels under the name Robert Winters. No one except Louisa who was her biggest supporter.
Caroline nodded. “He tells me I have to provide the finished manuscript of the novel I am working on by the Twelfth Night.”
“That is less than three weeks away from now,” Louisa hummed in thought.
“So you see my predicament. I had intended to visit my mother but now I will have to tell her that I won’t be able to make it.” Caroline sighed, pouring herself another glass. “She will be quite upset with me. You know how overbearing Mother can get. I shan’t hear the end of it.”
“I’m sure if you give her a good reason for your absence—or perhaps your delay—this Christmas, she won’t have much to say.”
“And what excuse could that be? That I have decided to pursue my love for writing rather than come to see her?”
“Oh, so dramatic,” Louisa laughed. “Simply tell her that you will be delayed due to charity work you’d already agreed to.”
Caroline straightened. Why hadn’t she thought of that? It wouldn’t be a complete lie since she had planned to volunteer at an orphanage. Her mother didn’t need to know when that volunteer work was expected to come to an end before she was meant to leave for the countryside and not after.
“Louisa, you brilliant lady,” Caroline said with a grin.
Louisa shrugged nonchalantly, a smile playing around her lips. “I’m not sure what you would do without me.”
“Neither am I. Granted, I will feel a little guilty but it may keep Mother from pestering me about why I have not gone to see her. Perhaps I will be able to meet Mr. Holloway’s deadline after all. I should start right now, actually, if I want to get a head start!”
Caroline shot out of the chair but Louisa’s hand shot out to grab her wrist. “Oh, sit down, you. It’s already late at night and you haven’t even had dinner yet. Have a few more drinks with me.”
Laughter curled up Caroline’s throat. “Am I to drink and not eat then?”
“You do not seem to care about the latter so why not?” With a cheeky smile, Louisa poured them both a glass. “We ought to express our gratitude for the liberty we possess to act according to our own desires. To partake of our repast as we please. To arrive and depart at our convenience. To indulge in refreshment whenever we so desire. This evening, we may choose to overindulge, and there is not a single soul who would dare to reproach us for it.”
“Perhaps I should be the one holding the bottle,” Caroline said, carefully putting the bottle of sherry on her side of her table as she eyed her friend cautiously. “I have witnessed you after a night of drinking and I think it would be best for us both if it never happens again.”
Louisa laughed heartily, the sound like music echoing through the empty townhouse. “You do not grasp the essence of it, Caroline! As a widow and an unwed lady, we are bestowed certain privileges that those who are wed or fully engaged in society in London could scarcely envision. You would find it impossible to pursue your aspirations as a writer, were it not for our unique circumstances. Even should you choose to write under the guise of a pseudonym.”
Caroline couldn’t help but nod in agreement. Her late husband, Harold, was a traditional man who would have shuddered at the thought of a lady writing for any purpose other than letters. He didn’t even like the fact that she was fond of reading.
The thought brought a mixture of pride and guilt, but it was easy to ignore the latter. “And you would not have been free to continue your study in botany,” Caroline said. “All that’s left is for you to open your own apothecary.”
“Once my inheritance runs dry, I just might. For now, I shall simply enjoy my days with my plants and my best friend.”
Louisa raised her glass in a toast and Caroline was all too happy to join in.
“I don’t know what I would do without you, Louisa,” Caroline sighed.
Louisa reached out to take her hand. “Be grateful you never have to find out.”
They both laughed at that. And drank until the bottle went empty and they went to get another. By the time they made it to the bottom of that bottle, Caroline completely forgot that she hadn’t eaten any dinner. Not that it mattered when drunken sleep blissfully claimed her.
Chapter Two
This wasn’t making any sense. None of this was making any sense. The more Cedric stared at the numbers, the more it felt as if they were taunting him with the incessant confusion they instilled in him. Nothing was adding up despite the fact that he was so meticulous with his finances. So why did his ledgers look this way?
He pulled his spectacles off his face and tossed them onto his mahogany desk in frustration. A megrim was already forming behind his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping it would be enough to soothe the ache. It only made it worse. Though perhaps that had more to do with the fact that he had been at this for hours and seemed no closer to figuring it out.
This never would have happened to his father. The late Earl of Colenhurst was a meticulous man. Such difficulties were not ones he faced during his life because he’d never allow it. Cedric had spent most of his life trying to emulate his father in so many ways. How could he have let this happen?
It wasn’t his mistake, he knew. He could handle his ledgers in his sleep. But during the few months he’d been away at the country estate handling the tenant affairs, he’d left it in the care of the steward. The very same steward who disappeared right before Cedric returned to London. And now it felt as if there was no undoing the errors.
Only it didn't feel like simple mistakes. The more Cedric looked at the numbers, the more he felt like it had to be sabotage. No sane man could have ever caused such irreversible loss without noticing that something was off.
The door of his study opened and a tall, brown-haired man sauntered in, eyes falling immediately on Cedric. The broad grin he had been wearing fell the moment he spotted the scowl Cedric was giving him.
