Charlotte knew she was already considered beyond her prime, having missed her true debut at seventeen and nowalmost twenty. It was a dreadful thought. She could practically see the condescending expressions on the faces of those about the ball as she walked through the room—judged by so many who did not know her.
The fact that she had tirelessly chosen to care for her mother for three long years, giving up her chances at marriage and happiness, would not matter to the gossip-mongers. She would be judged for who she was now, not who she could have been.
Charlotte closed her eyes rising from her prone position and walking to her desk. In times of strife, she always turned to her journal. The act of writing by hand and allowing her mind to spill her innermost thoughts and feelings onto the page had always calmed her busy head. At least she could truly be herself, allowing her honest thoughts to manifest without fear of judgment and derision.
CHAPTER TWO
Colin Ludlow, the Duke of Lindenbrook, looked over his desk, trying to make sense of the papers laid out before him.
It seemed that all he had done lately was search through reams of paper and sheets of crumpled bills and missives from his father. The ledgers and financial documents he had searched through seemed never-ending and he could make head nor tail of them.
He rubbed his temples, fighting off the throb of a severe headache as he tried to calculate the correct total from an endless stream of figures. The numbers were beginning to swirl before him now and he was none the wiser about where any of it might lead.
What he was sure of was that something about his father’s business dealings did not add up. What had begun as a gnawing uncertainty at the back of his mind had manifested into a rumbling undercurrent every time he read through his father’s effects. It seemed exceedingly strange to Colin that the late duke’s investments had been so successful throughout his life but then should take a steep dive toward the end of it.
A knock at the door pulled him out of his musings as his mother swept into the room without waiting for an answer. She looked effortlessly elegant as usual, her tall figure accentuated by the deep green gown that perfectly complimented her silver hair.
Colin hurriedly shuffled the papers on his desk out of sight. He did not need the duchess to see him pouring over old accounts held by the late duke. She would not understand his interest in such matters, and he was as yet unprepared to answer any probing questions on the subject.
She approached his desk, wafting a piece of paper under his nose, an expression of vague irritation on her face.
“Constance has finally managed to get her invitations out,” she muttered, rereading the lines within. “I do not understand why it takes her such an age to send these things, I have had the date held for weeks now, and it arrives only a week prior. No one will be able to attend, I mark you.”
Colin said nothing, knowing full well that Lady Constance threw the type of soiree that would have people dropping their engagements far and wide. Colin, for his part, could not think of anything he would rather avoid.
His shoulders tensed as his mother’s eyes met his over the top of the letter, her gaze somewhat hopeful as she read it aloud.
“There will be many there with whom we are acquainted. Lady Sterling and Mortimer will be in attendance. Lady Brentwhistle too, which is mildly vexing given her propensity to flirt with every man in a room, but I have faith that you shall enjoy yourself, nonetheless.”
“Mama, I am most busy here at present,” Colin protested. “Aunt Constance cannot possibly want for eligible gentlemen to attend.”
“You will always have business to see to, dearest; that is who you are. But it has been several weeks since you attended a ball with your family.”
“It has beenthreeweeks, Mama, and may I remind you that I stayed interminably late at that event for your own pleasure.”
His mother’s cheeks pinked slightly at the reminder of that particular ball. She had, quite by accident, drunk a great deal of punch she had believed to be fruit cordial, and Colin had spent a long evening in the study of the house waiting for her to wake up. In truth, it had been a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the ballroom, and he had spent a happy hour readingThe Mysteries of Udolphobefore he was summoned to take her home.
“I was most grateful to you, as I said at the time,” his mother said briskly. “But youdoneed to meet and dance with some ladies this season, no matter how disagreeable you find it.”
Colin’s fingers tightened on the arm of his chair. His mother’s constant needling about the line of succession was becoming more tiresome by the day. He knew she was right, but with everything else he had to contend with, he needed to get to the bottom of his father’s estate before he could even think of matrimony.
“Will you at least consider it dearest?” she said pleadingly.
Colin sighed. “Of course, mother.”
“Would it alter your decision if I were to tell you thatIvery much want you to be there? You know how proud I am to see you uphold the honour of the title as the Duke of Lindenbrook.”
Her praise warmed Colin’s heart, but it was not without its history. He had inherited the title prematurely on his father’s death, and although his mother supported him now, that had not been the case in the early days. She had struggled with his father’s absence, and he knew if she discovered his investigation, she would be very displeased indeed.
“Thank you, Mama.” he said evenly, keeping his expression carefully blank with practised ease. He had learned at a young age not to wear his emotions on his sleeve.
The duchess hesitated; her gaze fixed on him for another few minutes. After a quick nod of approval, she placed the invitation on the edge of his desk and left the room. As soon as the door closed behind her, Colin slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.
His eyes moved without conscious thought to the picture above the wide fireplace. His father’s stern countenance looked all the more disapproving today, bushy eyebrows furrowed, his mouth firm and angry, as it had always been in life.
“Take heart, young man. Maintain a proper posture. Your duty is to this estate, not yourself. When you are duke, your feelings and wishes no longer matter; is that clear?”
His father’s voice echoed in his head at least a dozen times a day. The late duke had been a strict and unforgiving role model to his young son. Colin was an only child, though his parents had wished for more. His mother had lost several children, and Colin was the only one who survived.
