Page 36 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

He studied her for a moment longer, then nodded briefly. Yet as he turned to leave, his hand brushed against hers in a touch too deliberate to be accidental.

“We shall speak more of this partnership you propose,” he said quietly. “Later.”

Charlotte watched him go, her hand tingling where his fingers had touched it. Only when his footsteps had faded did she realise that Mrs Walden was watching her with knowing eyes.

“The rain has quite ruined His Grace’s cravat,” the housekeeper observed blandly. “Most unlike him to appear so... informal.”

The slight emphasis she placed on the last word made Charlotte’s cheeks warm.

“The weather is quite inclement,” she managed.

“Indeed, it is, Your Grace.” Mrs Walden’s tone held volumes of meaning as she began organising the linens. “Indeed it is.”

The rain continued throughout the afternoon, drumming against the windows as Charlotte completed her inventory under Mrs Walden’s watchful eye. Though her hands remained steady at their task, her mind kept returning to that moment with William – the unexpected gentleness in his touch, the warmth in his grey eyes, the way that his customary reserve had softened into something far more dangerous to her peace of mind.

“Your Grace should take supper in her sitting room this evening,” Mrs Walden suggested as the daylight began to fade. “After such an exhausting day...”

“No,” Charlotte said quickly – perhaps too quickly, for the Housekeeper’s knowing look returned. “That is, I am quite recovered. There is no need to disrupt the usual arrangements.”

In truth, the thought of missing their evening meal together made her heart sink. These quiet dinners had become precious to her, offering glimpses of the man that William might become if he would only let down his careful walls.

When she entered the dining room that evening, however, she found the Duke’s place empty. Disappointment warred with concern until Phillips appeared at her elbow.

“His Grace sends his apologies, Your Grace,” the butler informed her. “He was called to the home farm on urgent business. But he left this for you.”

‘This’ proved to be a note, written in William’s bold hand on his personal stationery. Charlotte’s fingers trembled slightly as she opened it.

My dear Charlotte,

Duty calls me away this evening, much against my inclination. Pray do not wait supper – you must maintain your strength, as we discussed. I trust you will keep your word about resting.

There is a matter of some importance I wish to discuss with you. Perhaps you might join me in the library after breakfast tomorrow? I find myself increasingly convinced of the wisdom of your words regarding partnership.

Until then, I remain, Yours, William

Charlotte read the note twice, her heart beating faster at his choice of closing. Not the formal ‘Your humble servant’ that propriety dictated, but that simple, intimate ‘Yours’. And that reference to partnership...

“Shall I serve supper, Your Grace?”

Peters’ carefully neutral tone reminded her of her surroundings.

“Yes, thank you.”

Charlotte tucked the note into her dress pocket, though its words seemed to burn through the fabric against her skin.

Later, in her sitting room, she found herself unable to concentrate on her correspondence. The day’s events kept replaying in her mind – William’s unexpected assistance in the stillroom, his strong hands steadying her, the look in his eyes when she’d spoken of partnership.

Something was changing between them, something that both thrilled and terrified her. The cold, pragmatic marriage she’d resigned herself to was becoming something else entirely. But what that something might be, she hardly dared contemplate.

A tap at her door revealed Sarah with the evening’s hot water. As her lady’s maid helped her prepare for bed, Charlotte caught sight of herself in the pier glass. Her cheeks held more colour than they had in days, and her eyes seemed brighter somehow.

“Will there be anything else, Your Grace?” Sarah asked as she turned down the bed linens.

Charlotte’s fingers strayed to the side table where William’s note lay.

“No, Sarah. That will be all.”

Alone in her chamber, she read the note one final time before carefully placing it in her writing desk. Outside, the rain had finally ceased, leaving behind a freshly washed world full of possibility.