“A man can hope.”
She held out her hand to him, and they sat before the fire, watching the flames, building one another’s strength as the afternoon closed in around them.
***
Colin sat at his desk, now littered not just with ledgers but with newspapers. The London press was brutal and had left no stone unturned with their investigations about his father.
No conclusions had yet been drawn, but there was so much speculation Colin could not imagine he could escape unscathed. He had come up with nothing new, and despite many more hours of reading and analysis, he had the same vague leads that led nowhere or created more questions than answers.
What he was sure of now was that his father’s dealings had not been as they should. Much in his research had raised questions, and the papers, if nothing else, had confirmed that he was correct in his suspicions. He was determined to continue to look into the facts and to clear his name if he had to, and exonerate those he cared about.
He stared at the documents laid out before him. Somewhere in the mess of papers lay a clue to the whole scandal, and he was more determined than ever to seek it out.
His thoughts moved to Lady Wentworth and the tangled web that seemed to tie them together. He wanted to ensure that her father was not involved, not only for himself but for Lady Wentworth too. She had been through enough with the death of her mother—she did not need to be embroiled in a scandal.
On opposite sides of the busy city of London, Lady Charlotte Wentworth and Lord Colin Ludlow examined the text before them with mounting hopes. Both longed for the same outcome, neither sure if it would come about.
But the one thing they shared above everything else was a determination to succeed in the face of society’s expectations and the pursuit of those they loved.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The next morning, Charlotte woke with the journal beside her bed on the pillow.
Light streamed through the curtains. She had slept deeply for the first time in a few days and felt well-rested. Sitting up, her hands moved to open it automatically, her thoughts moving to the duke and how she might be able to persuade her father of their position.
What if I tell him the duke has designs upon me and then discover he has nothing of the kind?
She brushed her hair out of her face and read through a few of the pages, flicking through carefully, reading each line, noting a nuance here, a new tear-stain there.
Eventually, she came upon a passage between the affair being discovered and the night of her wedding.
"August 8, 1790 – Despite knowing that my life as I had pictured it is over, I believe that good can come from change. I love Auric with all my heart, but there is nothing to be done. Father believes that the Wentworth’s are a better match for our family. He has been clear on the matter, and tonight we spoke as equals for the first time. He will never agree to the Ludlow’s joining our bloodline, and that is the way things will stay. I can do nothing but my duty and defer my dreams for the sake of my family. Who is to say that things will not turn out for the better? No one knows the future after all.
Despite the sincerity of the passage, all the entries following spoke of her broken heart, of the wrenching pain she felt at not being able to be with Auric. Charlotte’s eyes remained on a single word in her mother’s hand.
Duty.
She swallowed, closing the book as tears filled her eyes. All her hopes and beliefs were futile when they could never meet with her father’s approval. To the marquess, Lord Kilby was the only choice.
Her fingers moved over the top of the journal and down the spine, knowing in her heart that what her mother had written was true. There was nothing she could do.
It was all over.
***
Colin’s hand shook. It seemed that every paper in London had got wind of the story now, and his father’s name was splashed across every sordid rag sheet the city had to offer.
He threw them into the fire, running his fingers through his hair as he paced back and forth, trying to make sense of it all.
He felt as though the walls were shrinking around him, whispering to him of impropriety and underhanded dealings in parliament. None of it was new information but to see it in the neat black and white print of the papers was a different feeling.
Why had the rumours spread, and where had they spread from? Father has been dead for three years!
The door to the study opened as a footman announced the arrival of Lord Hayesworth. Colin bid him enter, and Edward strode into the room, waiting for the footman to withdraw before walking to the desk.
Colin scrubbed a hand over his stubbled cheek, gazing at his friend with new fear running through him.
“There is more?”
