Page 50 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

“Without merit?” Edmund set down his untouched tea with more force than strictly necessary. “Charlotte, half the ton whispers that Caldwell stands on the brink of complete ruin. Men in such situations rarely make idle threats.”

“What would you have me say?” Charlotte turned to face him, drawing on every lesson in dignity she had ever learned. “These are matters between His Grace and Sir Geoffrey. I cannot...”

“Cannot? Or will not?” Edmund rose to join her by the fireplace, his expression uncommonly serious. “Lottie, I’ve known you since the day you were born. I saw your face just now when I mentioned Caldwell’s name. Whatever affects your husband clearly affects you as well.”

The simple observation struck deeper than any argument could have done. Charlotte felt tears prick at her eyes, though she blinked them back with determined composure.

“Things between William and me...” She paused, choosing her words with infinite care. “We have begun to reach an understanding, Edmund. A true partnership, perhaps, if we’re brave enough to grasp it. I cannot risk that by sharing his private concerns, even with you.”

“Can’t you see that’s precisely why I’m here?” Edmund’s voice held a gentleness that reminded her painfully of their father. “You’re not just the Duchess of Alverton now – you’re my sister, and if something threatens your happiness...”

“My happiness?” Charlotte gave a watery laugh. “Oh, Edmund. When did you become so perceptive?”

“About the time I realised that you were falling in love with that stern Duke of yours.” He touched her shoulder gently. “Don’t look so shocked, dearest. It’s been obvious in your letters for weeks now – at least to those who know how to read between your carefully proper lines.”

Heat rose in Charlotte’s cheeks at her brother’s frank observation.

“Edmund, you cannot say such things. My marriage to His Grace is exactly what it was intended to be – a suitable alliance between our families.”

“Is it?” Edmund’s knowing smile held echoes of their childhood confidences. “Then why did you blush just now? Why does your voice soften whenever you speak his name? Come now, Lottie. You never could deceive me, even when we were children.”

Charlotte turned back to the fireplace, watching the flames dance as she gathered her composure. The warmth of the fire could not match the heat that flooded her chest whenever she thought of William – of his quiet strength, his careful tenderness, the way his grey eyes softened when he looked at her across the dinner table.

“Whether I feel more than duty requires is immaterial,” she said finally. “William has enough concerns without adding the weight of... of inappropriate expectations to his burden.”

“Inappropriate?” Edmund’s tone held gentle mockery. “To love one’s husband? What a shocking notion indeed. I marvel that society survives such scandal.”

“You don’t understand.” Charlotte’s fingers twisted in her skirts before she forced them to still. “William has worked so hard to restore Alverton’s stability, to protect everything his father nearly destroyed. He needs a partner he can trust, not some lovesick girl who lets her heart rule her head.”

“And are the two mutually exclusive?” Edmund moved to stand beside her, his usual levity replaced by unexpected wisdom. “Can you not be both the capable Duchess he needs and the woman who loves him?”

The question struck deeper than Charlotte cared to admit. She remembered William’s face that morning beneath the oak tree, the vulnerability in his expression as he spoke of partnerships and trust. How his hand had felt covering hers, that small liberty containing such infinite promise.

“Sir Geoffrey threatens everything William has built,” she said quietly. “I’ve seen how it weighs on him, though he tries to hide it. If I were to speak of... of feelings, of anything beyond our careful accord... Edmund, I cannot risk destroying the trust growing between us.”

“And if that trust requires complete honesty? Complete sharing of hearts as well as burdens?” Her brother’s voice held none of its usual teasing note. “Lottie, I’ve watched you these past months through your letters. You’ve grown into your role as Duchess with grace and dignity that would have made Mama proud. But more than that – you’ve grown into yourself.”

Charlotte felt tears prick at her eyes at the mention of their mother.

“What would she say, do you think? About all of this?”

“She would say,” Edmund replied with gentle certainty, “that love is never inappropriate when it leads us to be our best selves. And from what I’ve observed, your love for William has only strengthened your determination to be the Duchess Alverton needs.”

“But Sir Geoffrey...” Charlotte began.

“Is precisely why I’m here.” Edmund’s expression turned serious again. “Whatever threat he poses, you need not face it alone. Nor should William, though his pride might protest otherwise.”

Edmund’s words hung in the air between them, weighted with implications Charlotte scarcely dared examine. Yet surely, she must examine them, must face these difficulties. Was it possible that Edmund could help her in her wish to help William?

Through the sitting room window, she could see the autumn sunshine gilding Alverton’s formal gardens – the carefully tended roses that William’s mother had planted, the geometric paths that spoke of generations of careful stewardship.

“What exactly are you proposing?” she asked finally, turning back to her brother. “You cannot simply march up to Sir Geoffrey and demand explanations.”

“Can’t I?” Edmund’s smile held a hint of their father’s authority. “I am Viscount Parrington, heir to the Earl of Westbridge. My interest in my sister’s welfare is entirely natural.”

“And entirely unwelcome, if it damages William’s position.” Charlotte’s voice caught on her husband’s name. “Edmund, you cannot understand what it means to him – the constant weight of responsibility, the fear that one misstep might undo all he’s accomplished.”

“Perhaps not,” Edmund admitted, moving to join her at the window. “But I understand what it means to watch someone you love suffer, and be unable to help. As you do now.”