Page 26 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

Mrs Walden considered while pouring her own tea, her movements precise and thoughtful.

“His Grace ensures that Physician Morton is available when needed, and that basic care is provided. But...”

She hesitated, and Charlotte was conscious of the careful way that she chose her next words.

“But?”

“The late Duke’s extravagance left deep scars, Your Grace. His Grace is... cautious about any expenditure that might be seen as unnecessary.” The Housekeeper’s tone held years of observation and carefully guarded opinions. “Even when his heart might wish to do more.”

That last quiet addition caught Charlotte’s attention.

“You believe that he struggles with such decisions?”

“I have served at Alverton since before His Grace’s birth,” Mrs Walden said slowly. “I remember when he was a boy, before his father’s... difficulties became apparent. He had such a generous nature then. The current strictness – it comes from duty, not inclination.”

Charlotte stirred her tea thoughtfully, this new insight adding layers to her understanding of her husband.

“And what constitutes ‘necessary’ expenditure, in His Grace’s view?”

“Anything that directly affects the estate’s productivity.” Mrs Walden’s tone held no judgment, only years of careful observation. “His Grace has worked tirelessly to restore Alverton’s fortunes. Perhaps sometimes he forgets that true prosperity requires more than just fiscal prudence.”

“Yet surely preventing an influenza outbreak from spreading would protect productivity?”

“Yes.”

Charlotte set her cup down with careful precision, her mind full of possibilities.

“We must consider not just the immediate cost of care, but the potential loss if illness keeps workers from the harvest.”

“A logical argument, Your Grace.” Mrs Walden’s approval was evident. “His Grace responds well to such practical considerations.”

Charlotte rose to pace the room, her mind yet again racing with plans even as her heart ached with the memory of Mary Fletcher’s feverish infant. The soft swish of her skirts against the carpet provided a rhythm for her thoughts as she moved from window to writing desk and back again.

“We need more information before approaching His Grace,” she said finally, turning back to Mrs Walden. “Can you discover exactly how many families are affected? And Physician Morton should be consulted about likely progression and necessary precautions.”

“And the expense of such measures?” Mrs Walden asked carefully.

“I will need precise figures.” Charlotte’s chin lifted with determination, though her hands clasped tightly together betrayed her inner tension. “His Grace cannot dismiss this as mere sentiment if we present him with clear evidence of both need and cost.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” Mrs Walden rose, and Charlotte did not miss the approval in her eyes. “Shall I begin making enquiries?”

“Please do.” Charlotte moved to her writing desk, drawing out fresh paper. “I shall make notes of our observations today while they’re fresh in my mind. We must be thorough in our preparation.”

As Mrs Walden departed, Charlotte went to the small escritoire near the room’s large window, to take advantage of the light, and began writing with steady purpose, trying to capture every detail that might prove relevant to their case. She would approach William with carefully reasoned arguments, not emotional appeals.

Yet even as she recorded practical details about numbers of sick children and affected households, her mind returned to Mary Fletcher’s infant, to the dairymaid’s trembling hands, to all the signs of suffering she could not ignore.

A sudden movement in the courtyard below caught Charlotte’s attention, drawing her to turn to the window. William was returning from his morning ride, his tall figure straight and commanding in the saddle. Despite her preoccupation with estate matters, her heart quickened at the sight of him. Even after their recent discord, she could not deny the effect that his presence had on her.

His greatcoat was fitted to his broad shoulders perfectly, and she could not help but notice the way that the morning sun caught the auburn highlights in his dark hair, and the strong lines of his handsome profile. More telling was the way that the stable boys rushed to attend him – not from fear, she had learned, but from genuine respect. Whatever his faults, William inspired loyalty in those who served him.

As he dismounted with practiced grace, he paused to speak with his head groom. Charlotte couldn’t hear their words, but she recognised the careful attention he gave to the man’s report. This was the side of William that fascinated her most – the devoted master of Alverton who truly cared for his responsibilities, even if his methods sometimes differed from her own expectations.

“Your Grace?”

Charlotte turned to find Sarah at the door, another stack of household records in her arms.

“Yes?”