Page 60 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

Chapter Sixteen

The rain hammered against the carriage windows as they hurried back towards Alverton, the horses’ hooves striking a desperate rhythm against the muddy road. Charlotte clutched her reticule close, feeling the weight of the documents within - proof that could save or destroy everything she held dear. Edmund’s sharp intake of breath drew her attention.

“Charlotte...”

She leaned forward, peering through the rain-streaked glass. A familiar figure on horseback approached from a side road - Sir Geoffrey Caldwell, his greatcoat streaming water, his face set in lines of grim determination.

“Stop the carriage,” Charlotte said quietly.

“Are you mad?” Edmund grabbed her arm. “We can outrun him and reach William before…”

“No.” Charlotte’s voice held steel beneath its quiet surface. “I will not skulk away like a thief. Not with such precious cargo.”

Before Edmund could protest further, she rapped sharply on the carriage roof. Their conveyance slowed, though the driver had the sense to stop where the main road held firm rather than risk the muddy verge.

Caldwell reined in his mount alongside them, water dripping from his hat brim as he offered a mock salute.

“Your Grace. What an... unexpected pleasure, meeting you so far from home. I had thought you still safely at Alverton, not visiting certain solicitors in Millhampton.”

“Sir Geoffrey.” Charlotte’s voice emerged steady despite her racing heart. “I was unaware that my movements were of such interest to you.”

“Oh, come now.” His smile held no warmth. “Let us not play such games. My clerk was most specific about your visit to Harrison’s office. About certain documents that you examined.”

Edmund’s hand moved towards his sword hilt, or at least to where it would have been, had he worn a sword. Of course, he wore no blade - this was not an age where gentlemen routinely armed themselves for morning calls, but his training in arms made it an instinctive response. Still, something in his bearing made Caldwell’s mount shift nervously.

“Your clerk?” Charlotte arched one brow. “How fascinating that you should have such detailed knowledge of a solicitor’s private business. I had thought the clerk to be employed by Mr Harrison?”

Caldwell’s expression shifted, something ugly flickering beneath his carefully maintained facade of gentility. The rain continued to pour around them, turning the world grey and indistinct, as though they existed in some strange bubble of time where normal social constraints had ceased to matter. Charlotte’s heart thundered, yet her mind remained curiously clear. She could feel the weight of the documents in her reticule, their presence lending her strength even as fear tried to close her throat. Not fear for herself - she had faced worse than Caldwell’s threats in London ballrooms - but fear for what this confrontation might mean for William.

“Your Grace seems to have developed quite an interest in estate matters,” Caldwell said, his voice pitched to carry through the rain. “How... touching... to see such wifely devotion. Though one wonders what His Grace might think of such investigations carried out behind his back.”

The words struck precisely where he intended, finding the doubt that lurked in Charlotte’s heart. Would William see her actions as further betrayal? Would this destroy the fragile trust growing between them? She remembered his face that morning beneath the oak tree, the vulnerability in his grey eyes as he had spoken of partnerships and shared burdens.

“I wonder,” she replied, forcing her voice to remain steady, “what the local magistrates might think of certain... creative approaches to documentation. Forgery carries quite severe penalties, I believe.”

Caldwell’s mount shifted beneath him, responding to its master’s sudden tension.

“Accusations of forgery are serious matters, Your Grace. One might even call them slanderous. Particularly when made by a lady who seems determined to interfere in business that doesn’t concern her.”

“Doesn’t concern her?” Edmund’s voice cracked like a whip. “You dare suggest that attacks on her husband’s reputation don’t concern my sister?”

“Ah yes, the protective brother.” Caldwell’s smile widened unpleasantly. “How convenient that Lord Parrington should accompany his sister on such an... innocent shopping expedition. Tell me, my Lord, does your father know that you involve yourself in such matters? That you risk the Earl of Westbridge’s reputation in this... unfortunate situation?”

Charlotte felt Edmund stiffen beside her, saw his hands clench into fists. Before he could respond, however, she laid one gloved hand on his arm.

“My brother’s presence is entirely proper,” she said coldly. “Unlike certain other matters I might name. Tell me, Sir Geoffrey - does your bank know that you visit their competitor in York? That you seek refinancing even as you spread malicious rumours about your neighbours?”

For a moment, she was concerned that this piece of Mrs Walden’s intelligence gathering might have been inaccurate, but then, it became obvious that her words had struck home - she saw it in the sudden whitening of his knuckles on his reins, the slight widening of his eyes.

Yet his recovery came swiftly, too swiftly for comfort.

“You play a dangerous game, madam,” he said softly. “One that could have... unfortunate consequences for those you no doubt aim to protect.”

The implicit threat in his words made Charlotte’s blood run cold. Yet beneath her fear, anger began to burn - a slow, steady flame that warmed her despite the October chill. How dare he stand there, rain streaming from his hat brim, and threaten everything that she held dear?

“Consequences?” She leaned forward slightly, pitching her voice to carry clearly through the downpour. “Like the consequences that your father faced when his false dealings came to light? Is that why you left Yorkshire so precipitously fifteen years ago?”

It was a chance shot, based on fragments of gossip she’d heard in London last year, which had only come to have meaning for her now, but something in Caldwell’s expression told her it had struck to the heart of the matter. His face worked for a moment, his composure cracking to reveal something darker beneath.