He smirked to himself as he recalled the conversation with Lord Dunham. He would claim her as his bride, stating the fact that Reginald had given his blessing, and most of the ton would be there to back him up when they gave an account of the scene at the club.
More than that, London would awake to find the mansion in flames, thinking that he had perished in the fire. He’d gone over his plans on the carriage ride to the mansion. It was a shame that the home he had grown up in had to be sacrificed, but it was a small price to pay for his freedom.
Reaching the top of the ladder, he poked his head into the attic, using the candle in his hand to dispel the darkness before surveying all the boxes of papers that had been stored.
A large portrait of his brother and Charlotte’s mother stared back at him with accusing eyes. Their faces were stoic as they passed judgement on him from beyond the grave.
“At least I will finally be able to bury your memory along with the evidence,” he whispered to the portrait before lifting the candle above his head and tilting it towards a nearby crate of papers.
A single corner took flame, growing with alarming speed as it spread to all of the papers.
Backing away slowly, Reginald shut the hutch above his head, feeling a wave of relief in his chest.
Goodbye to all that was.
***
Charlotte entered her room, pausing in the doorway to look around at all the things that had been familiar to her. Everything seemed dampened now as if the marquess’ rejection had placed a curse on everything that had once provided her with comfort.
Jameson!
Her heart cried out in anguish as she threw herself onto the bed and began to sob, curling up into the foetal position.
Chapter 21
Jameson had barely entered his father’s cramped study when his mother came bursting into the room, her nostrils flaring with anger. It was bad enough that he’d had to feel the sharp sting of betrayal from the woman he loved, but now his mother was angry with him as well.
“Jameson Sinclair! How dare you walk away from your mother like that? I thought you were about to confess your feelings to Lady Charlotte. Why is it that I found her crying in our gardens before leaving? I demand an explanation at once!” the duchess said, storming into the room and placing her hands on her hips, pursing her lips as she stared at her son.
“It isn’t I who has committed the transgression here, Mama, it is Lady Charlotte whom your anger should be directed towards,” he said, raising his voice slightly while still trying to remain respectful towards his mother.
“Will everyone please stop yelling and tell me what has happened?” His father cut him short just as Jameson was about to speak.
“Your son has allowed Lady Charlotte to leave this house where she was a guest, in tears. I have a right to know what happened.” The Duchess reiterated her point, keeping her eyes fixed on Jameson.
“I am sure that Jameson has a very reasonable explanation for what happened, Helena, now kindly take a seat and let the man speak.” The duke’s voice was stern as he spoke with authority and gestured for them all to sit.
Taking a deep breath, Jameson pulled out one of the leather chairs and waited for his irate mother to be seated before following suit.
“Now, you told us this morning that your intention with Lady Charlotte was to declare your feelings for her. What changed? Your mother and I both approved of your decision.” His father spoke calmly in a business-like manner as he laced his fingers together and placed his hands in front of him on the desk.
Taking a deep breath, Jameson swallowed hard and began to relay his story to his parents. “It was my intention to confess my feelings for Lady Charlotte, but she felt it necessary to inform me of a secret she had been harbouring.”
The duchess’ anger suddenly fell away as a deep frown wrinkled her forehead.
“Charlotte’s uncle is the man who embezzled the money and left us in ruin; she found proof of this in her parents’ belongings. Apparently, her father discovered the truth and had decided to come clean to you, Father, but he died before that was able to happen.” He relayed the story that Charlotte had told him in the gardens, still unable to believe it was true.
How was it possible that he’d found the woman of his dreams, but now everything had come crashing to the ground? The tears he’d seen in her eyes had not penetrated the thick scars that had formed over his heart in the process of her admission.
She kept the truth from me.
The duke fell back in his chair, his face paling with shock as his hand ran over the stubble on his cheeks. The stress of the past few days had begun to show on his face, but the shock of his son’s statement had made it so much worse. “Good God,” he uttered under his breath.
The duchess continued to frown as she chewed the inside of her cheek. “How long has Lady Charlotte known about this?” she finally asked after a few moments had passed.
“She mentioned something about stumbling upon the letter a few days or so before we all went to the Opera.” He shook his head trying to recall their conversation. Everything in the garden seemed blurry and distant now in the aftermath of their argument.
“But then she had not known about it for very long. What I am failing to understand is why she left our home crying?” The duchess seemed exasperated as she looked at her son.
