Page 11 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

Chapter Three

Late July 1817

The pearl-handled brush moved rhythmically through Charlotte’s golden hair as her lady’s maid prepared her for her wedding day. The morning light filtering through the bedroom curtains of her childhood chamber held the soft, pearly quality unique to early summer dawns, but Charlotte found no joy in its gentle beauty.

“The pearls your father sent up are lovely, my Lady,” Morton murmured, carefully sectioning Charlotte’s hair for the intricate style the occasion demanded. “They’ll complement your gown beautifully.”

Charlotte touched the pearl drops lying in their velvet case.

“They were my mother’s,” she said softly. “She wore them at her own wedding.”

The thought sent a fresh wave of grief through her chest. How she needed Mama’s gentle wisdom today, her quiet strength and understanding.

The wedding dress, spread carefully across her bed, gleamed ivory in the strengthening light. Fine Brussels lace adorned the high neckline and fitted sleeves, while delicate embroidery decorated the hem.

It was everything a Duke’s bride should wear, selected with careful attention to current fashion while maintaining appropriate dignity.

A tap at the door heralded Mrs Winters, their housekeeper of twenty years, carrying a breakfast tray.

“You must eat something, my Lady,” she insisted, setting out the dishes with practiced efficiency. “It wouldn’t do to faint in the church.”

Charlotte managed a wan smile.

“Thank you, Mrs Winters. Though I confess, my appetite seems to have deserted me entirely.”

“Just a few bites, then.”

The housekeeper’s tone brooked no argument. Having served the family for all of Charlotte’s life, she had been a steady presence after the Countess’ death, and today her usual formality held a maternal concern that made Charlotte’s throat tighten.

Edmund’s voice carried from the corridor.

“Lottie? Are you decent for a brotherly visit?”

“Come in, Edmund,” Charlotte called, grateful for the interruption. Her brother’s familiar presence might help steady her nerves.

Mrs Winters slipped out as Edmund came in. He was already dressed in his formal morning clothes. He paused, seeing her in her morning robe with Morton still working on her hair.

“You look pale, sister. Has Mrs Winters brought you breakfast?”

“She has, though I find I can hardly eat.” Charlotte gestured to the barely touched food. “I don’t suppose you have any sage advice for a bride on her wedding morning?”

Edmund crossed to her side, his usually mischievous expression replaced by brotherly concern.

“Only that you need not face this alone, little sister. Whatever comes, you’ll always have my support.”

Charlotte blinked back sudden tears.

“Don’t make me cry, Edmund. Morton has worked too hard on my appearance this morning for me to spoil it….”

“Indeed I have, my Lady,” her maid agreed, securing another pin. “And his lordship knows better than to distress you, today of all days.”

Edmund’s lips twitched.

“My apologies, Morton. I shall endeavour to provide only the most practical assistance.” He turned back to Charlotte. “Father sent me to tell you that Lady Margaret has arrived. She’s brought some flowers from the Duke’s conservatory for your bouquet.”

Charlotte’s heart quickened at this unexpected gesture.

“His Grace’s sister is already here?”