A sharp knock on the door threw him out of his reverie, and he bid them enter with a sharp tone that was most unlike his own.
Edward entered the room, his usual jovial and kind expression replaced with one of deep concern. Just as there had been in his dream, Edward held a stack of papers in his hand. True to his word, Colin had sent them to him to analyse, knowing Edward’s skill with things of this nature and valuing his opinion.
Colin’s stomach clenched with apprehension at his old friend’s expression, and Edward came forward as they both sat down.
“You were right to send them to me,” Edward said without preamble, brandishing the papers. “You were right about everything, including the investigation.” Edward leaned in, lowering his voice. “I've uncovered irregularities—funds slipping through gaps, hidden beneath a veil of lawful dealings.” He tapped the papers before him. “Old accounts simply don’t align; transactions masked as investments, but the sums vanish without a trace.”
It was as though the ground were opening beneath his feet. Colin had known that things were amiss, but somehow, hearing it from his friend’s lips was all the more difficult to bear. He had always hoped that perhaps he was misreading things, that his own anger at his father had tainted his investigation—but it was not to be.
Over the next hour, Edward took him through several documents that showed the underlying issues. Just as before, these strange investments kept rearing their heads. Alongside the business dealings that were stable and sure, his father seemed to have plucked other payments out of thin air—asthough picking them on the roll of a dice. It simply made nosense!
“I am afraid there is something else I have discovered,” Edward said, his voice lowering further as though he were worried about them being overhead. Colin frowned at him, dreading what was to come next. “I have seen the name of The Marquess of Wensingdale in some of the documents.”
Colin sank into his chair, his fingers flexing against the arms, stopping him from crumpling to the floor in despair. The implications of this were even worse than he could have imagined.
What if the marquess is the third party? What if this is all somehow tangled together?
His thoughts turned instantly to Charlotte. That image from his dream now became something else entirely. Her face was no longer concerned; instead, tears ran down her cheeks as she recognized what he had done to her by associating with her. Their connection could destroy her reputation if the marquess was implicated—the one person he would wish to protect ruined forever.
How can I ever pursue a relationship with Lady Wentworth when her own father might be involved in my father’s past?
The divide between them seemed insurmountable, and Colin could see no path through the darkness that he had conjured in his mind.
CHAPTER TEN
As evening fell, many of London’s social class arrived at the Pembrooke’s Summer ball.
The streets outside their magnificent town-house were a sea of silks, pearls, and jewels as far as the eye could see. The coachmen were hollering to one another as horses got stuck in the middle of the square and more and more people began arriving.
Charlotte entered the ballroom on her father’s arm, looking about her at the sheer volume of people who had arrived. She couldn’t believe that the Pembrooke’s even knew this many people, let alone had invited them to their home. The stairs behind her outside of the ballroom were heaving with people, and laughter and smoke were heavy in the air.
The room itself was glittering in crystal, bejewelled candlelight, but as she looked about her, only one face caught her eye amidst the throng. Charlotte felt a thrill shoot through her as, across the room, she saw the Duke of Lindenbrook standing beside Malcolm and Lord Edward Hayesworth.
He looked even more dashing today, his darker skin tone complimented by a high cream cravat that kissed the edge of his hair at the back of his neck. He was much taller than many of the men in the room, and as he looked about him, his gaze settled on Charlotte, and there it caught and held.
For the longest, breathtaking moment, their eyes were locked together, the bright green of the duke’s mixing with the blue-green of her own. She had an absurd thought that the colours would complement one another when seen side by side.
As soon as it had arrived, however, the moment was shattered as her father began to complain rather too loudlyabout the crush. He had already drunk two glasses of port before he left the house and had been in a very bad humour all day.
On the other side of the room, where she stood at the refreshment table, Elizabeth noted the brief moment of connection between Lady Wentworth and her cousin. Hiding her smile behind her glass of orgeat, she could only feel happy for him.
Colin had never been one to show his emotions; indeed, for much of her childhood, she had believed he had none. Whenever she had spent any time with the Ludlows, the shadow of his father had always seemed to loom large in Colin’s vision. He was a quiet, uniquely intelligent child, but his father had never been happy about anything he did. Elizabeth’s own parents were doting by comparison, and she had often observed how awkward Colin seemed whenever her mother showed heightened emotion around him.
But she knew that beneath the rather guarded exterior was a man who was deeply loyal, sharply witty, and one of the kindest men she had ever known. And—knowing him as she did—she was determined to help this young love blossom. Elizabeth had only needed to observe them for a few hours at the markets, to see Lady Wentworth’s regard for her cousin. Whenever they spoke together, there was an irrepressible spark between them that could not be missed.
To that end, Elizabeth began to walk through the crowd toward her target. Lady Wentworth was standing awkwardly beside her father—the Marquess of Wensingdale looking positively furious at the number of people jostling him.
Elizabeth was about to interrupt them and pull Lady Wentworth away when two figures materialized in the crowd, thwarting her attempt and making her fingers tighten unpleasantly around her glass.
Charlotte was most hopeful that her father would go to find the card room and leave her to herself for much of the evening, but when Lady Norwell and Lady Lavinia snaked through the crowd toward her, she was most glad of his company.
“Good evening, Lady Wentworth,” Lady Norwell simpered. “Why I can barely spend two days together without us bumping into one another.”
To her dismay, as soon as he felt she was suitably occupied, her father bowed to Lady Norwell and told Charlotte he would join her a little later. She was then left in the middle of the two women, and the world about her seemed to shrink so that there was nowhere else for her to turn.
With a tight smile, she drew out her fan and fluttered it before her face. “Quite. Did you enjoy the rest of your time in Gunter’s?”
“Oh yes,” Lady Norwell said. It seemed now that Charlotte’s father had gone, her eyes had hardened slightly. “I always enjoy Gunter’s. It must be pleasant for you, to experience London through the eyes of your friends. When you have spent such a long time in the country, any simple confectionery must be positivelyexotic.”
