Page 49 of The Duke's Hidden Scandal
She had read back through the pages for the past few days, and it was a jumble of thoughts about the duke and her mother. She felt the intricate threads of old lives mixing with the new and old pain, too. It seemed she was destined to repeat the life her mother had lived, and she was just as powerless to prevent it.
As she finished the final line, there was a knock on the door, and a servant announced that she needed to go to see her father.
Sighing heavily, she closed her journal, placed it inside the drawer of her desk and locked it. As she headed toward the study, she considered whether it would be possible to tell her father everything. Perhaps if she told him what she believed had blossomed between the duke and her, he might relent and allow things to take their course.
She opened the door of the study to the strong smell of cigar smoke. The marquess was sitting at his desk, a decanter of whiskey at his side and several documents strewn across the surface. His eyes were red and glassy, and Charlotte‘s worry increased the minute she stepped into the room.
He indicated the seat in front of him, his expression tired and drawn. For a few minutes, they sat in silence together. The marquess poured himself another whiskey and stared into space as his eyes glazed over.
Then, finally, he began to speak.
“Charlotte, I wish there were a gentler way to say this… but we can no longer afford the luxury of time or idealism. Since your mother’s passing, I have done all I can to keep us from the brink, but... our estate is in a precarious position."
Charlotte frowned. “I thought... I thought we were managing, Father. I knew times were difficult, but not so desperate.”
“For too long, I've kept the worst of it from you. In truth, we are close to ruin. The debts accumulated over the years—your mother’s care, the estates, the expenses to keep up appearances, they have drained us. I am ashamed to say that I have exhausted nearly every avenue available to me.”
Charlotte’s stomach turned over. Her father was looking at her imploringly now. There was none of the bluster, anger, and pompous vanity any longer; this was the face of a desperate man.
I cannot believe it had come to this.
“You believe marriage to Lord Kilby is our only answer?” she asked quietly.
“He is a good man, Charlotte. A dependable man. He has expressed interest and possesses the means to secure our future. I know he may not be the man you dreamed of, but I cannot see another way forward. Not without risking everything.”
“But Father, surely we have time...”
“I would never have chosen this path for you if it were not for the sake of our family’s survival. After everything you gave to your mother in her final years, the months of sacrifice— ”
His voice broke a little. Charlotte stared at him dumbfounded. He had never spoken of this before.
“I wanted to give you time to enjoy the season as every other woman may on her debut. But we have run out of time. This arrangement with Lord Kilby would restore our fortunes. It would protect your future. Please try to understand."
He sighed. “Before your mother passed, I was unable to see to my business affairs for months. Many things fell by the wayside. We have been scraping by for the last few years, but with the return to London and the season, the cost has spiraled. If we do not act, we will feel the pinch in less than a month.”
Charlotte felt numb. She could smell the acrid cigar smoke that filled her lungs making it difficult to breathe.
“Please, Charlotte,” her father begged. “I know that none of this is of your making, but I am asking—finally—for your help.”
Charlotte thought of the duke’s bright green eyes, the way they softened when he was amused. She thought of how kind he had been to her from the beginning, how understanding he was of her situation, even when she did not tell him everything. They shared a kindred spirit, a connection that she could feel even now.
The fragile webs we weave.
Charlotte stared at her father, picturing that thread in her mind, and with an effort greater than she had ever known, she severed it forever.
“Yes, Papa. If Kilby makes an offer, I shall accept.”
***
Elizabeth alighted from her carriage and knocked on the door. The butler answered and informed her that Colin was in his study. She made her way there as quickly as she could, fearful of what she might find.
She opened the door to a sea of paper. Colin sat in the centre, a reading glass in his hand as he squinted at some tiny handwriting on the pages before him. He had not heard her or was too preoccupied to pay her any mind, and Elizabeth knocked loudly on the door.
Colin looked up, his eyes taking a few seconds to focus before he rose to his feet abruptly.
“Lizzie,” he came forward, kicking documents out of the way as he did so. “What are you doing here? Please. Sit.”
He walked to the chair in front of his desk and moved all of the papers onto the floor that were sat upon it. She had never seen such a number of documents as these, and it looked as though Colin had read every single one.
