Page 55 of The Duke's Hidden Scandal
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 alittleof 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 sawthe 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 merrydance 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.
