“The wedding is in three days,” Charity said, “But things are going smoothly.”
“Really, now?”
“Yes,” Charity smiled, then looked down at her plate, and she thought to herself that the real reason was Duncan. He had given her a free hand with everything from the start, and he had not tried to control the details or question her choices. He had given her an unlimited budget as if it were nothing, though she had no intention of spending too much, and she was still careful with every expense out of habit. Still, she could not deny that it made her happy to see how he trusted her.
“Well, I shall not try,” Augusta gave her a teasing smile.
That afternoon, she was in the small morning room reviewing a list of linens with one of the maids when a servant came to the door and said Duncan wished to see her in his study.
Her first thought was that something had gone wrong with the wedding preparations.
She handed the list back to the maid and made her way to the study with a tight feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with lace or guest names.
When she entered, Duncan was standing by the desk rather than sitting, which she had learned to read as a bad sign. His expression was controlled, but there was anger in it, andMalcolm stood near the window looking grim in a way that made Charity understand, before either man spoke, that this was not about the wedding.
“I thought it best ye heard this from him straight away,” Malcolm said first, and his voice was serious, with none of its usual dry ease. “Another letter came this morning.”
Charity stopped just inside the room, her heart suddenly thudding loudly.
“From my uncle?”
“Aye, from him, and before you ask, yes, I read it,” Duncan replied.
“What does he want now?” Charity asked, concerned. She did not care that he had opened the letter, knowing that he had only done so as a way of looking out for her.
Duncan reached for the paper on the desk and held it out to her.
“He is trying to frighten you before the wedding,” Duncan said through gritted teeth, and she could feel the anger emanate from him.
Charity felt her throat go dry.
“Let me read it.”
She read quickly at first, then more slowly, then stopped before the end and closed her eyes for a second. It was the same pattern as before, full of threats and telling her that she is making a great mistake. When she looked up again, Duncan was watching her closely.
“I’m sorry,” Charity said quietly, before she could stop herself. “I am so sorry that this is reaching your house. You have done nothing except help us.”
Duncan’s expression changed into irritation.
“Why are you apologizing as if you wrote the letter yourself?”
“I know I did not write it,” Charity said, still holding the paper. “I am apologizing for the trouble.”
“The trouble is his,” Duncan replied. “The responsibility for dealing with it is mine now, and I accepted that before you agreed to marry me, so you can stop looking guilty for a situation he created.”
Charity looked down at the letter again and hated that her hands had started to shake. He was being incredibly understanding, and the least that she could do was not make this harder for both of them.
“I am not looking guilty on purpose,” Charity said after a moment. “I just… I know what this costs people around me, andI know you are angry, and part of me still thinks I should be the one taking the blow.”
It was a moment of honesty, and she realized that it was easy to do that with him.He makes me feel safe,she realized.
Duncan’s jaw tightened, but when he spoke again, his tone was lower. “You told me before that you try to carry things alone, and I told you that has limits. I meant it then, and I mean it now.”
Charity looked up at him.
Malcolm, who had been quiet while they spoke, shifted slightly and looked from one to the other, then cleared his throat in a way that was almost polite.
“I’ll leave the two of ye to discuss,” Malcolm said, and though his words were dry, his tone stayed careful. “I only came in to make sure the letter was handed over.”
