At Ashford, celebration followed. Music filled the hall. Light spilled across polished floors. Julian insisted upon performing a short piece at the pianoforte, glancing at Charlotte repeatedly to ensure she was watching.
When he finished, he bowed with exaggerated flourish in her direction as though presenting her to the kingdom itself.
Edward laughed openly—a sound no one at Ashford had heard in years.
Later, Mrs. Channing approached, her usually composed expression softened by unmistakable emotion.
“You brought Ashford back to life,” she said quietly. “You will make a fine duchess.”
The words humbled Charlotte more than they exalted her.
“I hope I can be worthy,” she replied.
She did not seek to replace Eleanor. She sought only to continue what she had begun.
Word of the marriage traveled swiftly. By evening, carriage wheels sounded once more upon the gravel. Lady Amelia arrived unannounced, fury etched plainly across her features.
She demanded entry.
Edward marched to intercept her, but Charlotte laid a gentle hand upon his arm.
“Let me,” she said.
Amelia wasted no time.
“You marryher?” she demanded of Edward, gesturing toward Charlotte with thinly veiled contempt. “After the scandal? After the humiliation?”
Edward’s jaw tightened, but Charlotte spoke first.
“You knew what happened in the garden,” she said evenly. “You knew he forced himself on me.”
Amelia’s composure faltered.
“I—of course not.”
“You screamed at precisely the right moment,” Charlotte continued. “You positioned your guests to see exactly what William wished them to see.”
Color drained from Amelia’s face.
Edward’s voice turned ominously calm. “Confess now, Amelia, or I will ensure every letter and testimony reaches the ton by morning.”
She broke then, tears spilling freely as she admitted that William had promised her marriage—promised her the title of duchess—if she helped discredit Charlotte and corner Edward into scandal. She claimed she believed it would be harmless, that she had only meant to secure her future.
Edward’s disgust was palpable.
“I would never marry a woman who trades integrity for advantage,” he said coldly. “Charlotte is everything you are not.”
Amelia departed in dramatic indignation, though the fight had long since drained from her.
When the last guest departed, and the echo of carriage wheels faded into the night, Ashford exhaled. The music dimmed.Laughter softened into memory. The corridors, once bright with celebration, returned to their familiar hush.
Edward found Charlotte near the tall windows of the drawing room and, without a word, offered his hand.
She placed hers in it as he led her onto the terrace.
The night stretched wide and clear above them. The moon hung luminous over the gardens, casting silver across the paths where scandal had once shadowed her steps. The roses, newly in bloom, released their fragrance into the cool air as though the estate itself were beginning again.
Charlotte rested her hands against the stone balustrade for a moment, looking out over the grounds.
