Page 65 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

“Indeed.” He moved closer, though still maintaining that distance which seemed to grow wider with each passing day. “Mr Harrison brought interesting news this morning.” Charlotte’s heart thundered against her ribs. She forced herself to meet his gaze steadily, though every instinct screamed at her to look away from the carefully banked hurt in his grey eyes. “His clerk, young Simmons, has disappeared.” William’s voice held devastating quietness. “Along with certain documents relating to Alverton’s affairs.”

“Missing documents?” Charlotte heard her own voice as though from a great distance. “How dreadful. Was anything of particular importance taken?”

“That remains to be seen.” He turned slightly, studying the dormant rose bushes with focussed attention. “Though more interesting, perhaps, is the timing of this disappearance. Mere days after a certain visit to his office by...” He paused, swallowing hard. “By someone who should have trusted me enough to speak plainly of their concerns.”

The pain in his voice, controlled though it was, struck Charlotte like a physical blow.

“William...”

“No.” He held up one hand, and she saw how it trembled slightly before he forced it still. “Allow me to finish. I have spent the past week watching you, you see. Watching you struggle with some secret burden, some weight that you chose not to share despite all of our recent talk of partnerships and trust.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Charlotte whispered. “Every day, every moment, I wanted...”

“Then why didn’t you?” The question emerged rough with suppressed emotion. “Did you think me so unreasonable? So unworthy of basic honesty?”

“No! Never that.” Charlotte took an involuntary step towards him, though she forced herself to stop when he stiffened. “I only wished to protect you. To find proof that would end Caldwell’s threats, once and for all.”

“Protect me?” William’s laugh held no humour. “By going behind my back? By conspiring with my own man of business to investigate matters I specifically asked you to leave alone?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Charlotte protested, though the words sounded hollow even to her own ears. “After the assembly, after seeing how his accusations affected you...”

“You thought me too weak to handle my own affairs?” The sharp precision of William’s voice cut deeper than anger would have done. “Too fragile to face whatever secrets you imagined you might discover?”

A gust of bitter wind stirred the fallen leaves around their feet, setting the bare rose canes rattling like bones. Charlotte wrapped her arms around herself, though the chill she felt came from within rather than without.

“I saw how it ate at you,” she said quietly. “Each new threat, each careful insinuation about your father’s dealings. You wouldn’t speak of it, wouldn’t share the burden, but I could see how it wore at you. The nights you spent alone in your study, the meals left untouched...”

“My father’s memory is my burden to bear.” William’s voice caught slightly on the words. “Not yours.”

“But it shouldn’t be! We’re meant to be partners, to share such weights between us. That morning beneath the oak tree, you spoke of trust, of working together...”

“Partners?” His voice cracked on the word. “Is that what you call this? This... this sneaking about, this violation of my private affairs?”

Charlotte flinched as though he’d struck her.

“I have proof,” she whispered. “Proof that Caldwell forged those documents, that your father never...”

“Enough!” William’s control cracked at last, real anger bleeding through his careful mask. “Don’t you see? This was never about proof or documents or even Caldwell’s threats. This was about trust, Charlotte. About believing that finally, after everything, I had found someone I could rely on completely. Someone who wouldn’t...”

He stopped abruptly, turning away to stare blindly at the frost-rimed rose bushes. Charlotte watched the rigid line of his shoulders, her heart breaking anew at the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

“Wouldn’t what?” she asked softly, though part of her dreaded the answer.

“Wouldn’t betray me.” The words emerged barely above a whisper, yet Charlotte felt them like physical blows. “Like everyone else has, who claimed to care.”

In that moment, she saw not the controlled Duke of Alverton, but the nineteen-year-old boy who had watched his world crumble - who had seen his father’s reputation destroyed, his betrothed flee with another man, his sister’s future threatened by scandal. No wonder he guarded his trust so carefully. No wonder each perceived betrayal cut so deep.

“William, please.” She took another step towards him, desperate to bridge the growing chasm between them. “I acted from love, can’t you see that?”

He stiffened further, if such a thing were possible.

“Love?” The word emerged rough, almost angry. “Is that what you call it? This... this interference in matters that you had no right to pursue?”

“Yes!” The force of her own response surprised them both. “Yes, that is precisely what I call it. Because I cannot bear to watch you suffer alone, to see you withdraw further each day behind those careful walls you’ve built. Because your pain is my pain, whether you wish it to be or not!”

The admission hung in the frost-touched air between them. William turned slowly to face her, and the complexity of emotion shown on his face stole her breath entirely.

“Charlotte...” He stopped, seeming to struggle for words. “I never asked for such... involvement.”