Page 23 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

Charlotte hesitated, weighing the prospect of further conversation against the risk of renewing their quarrel.

“Thank you, but I think not. I have several letters requiring my attention.”

If she was not mistaken, disappointment flickered briefly in his expression before his usual reserve reasserted itself.

“As you wish.”

Back in her sitting room, Charlotte found herself unable to concentrate on her correspondence. The memory of William’s face when she’d declined his invitation kept intruding on her thoughts. Had she been too hasty in refusing? Yet how were they to find common ground when he remained so adamantly opposed to even discussing her concerns?

Through her window, she could see the last rays of sunset painting the formal gardens in shades of gold and rose. Somewhere beyond those carefully tended flowerbeds lay the Morris cottage, with its leaking roof and broken window. The contrast struck her forcefully - the pristine beauty of the immediate grounds versus the quiet decay at the estate’s edges.

Perhaps that was the key. William clearly took pride in maintaining appearances, in presenting a face of prosperity to the world. Might he not be persuaded that the condition of tenant cottages reflected equally upon Alverton’s reputation?

Charlotte moved to her writing desk and drew out a fresh sheet of paper. If William responded to carefully reasoned arguments, then she would arm herself with facts and figures. Mrs Walden had mentioned the household records - surely there must be similar accounts detailing the estate’s maintenance costs over the years.

As she began making notes about her observations of the Morris cottage, Charlotte felt her earlier anger transforming into determination. William might see her interest in estate matters as overstepping her bounds, but she was Duchess now. Surely that role encompassed more than simply presiding over dinner parties and making polite conversation?

The scratch of her pen filled the growing darkness until Sarah came to light the lamps. Through her window, Charlotte could see the familiar glow from the library where William likely sat with his own papers and plans. They were so near in physical distance, yet separated by walls of pride and precedent and painfully learned caution.

But walls, she reminded herself, could be breached - not by force, perhaps, but by patience and persistence and careful attention to their weakest points. William had spent six years rebuilding Alverton’s fortunes through methodical effort. She could be no less diligent in building a true partnership with its master. She would not accept a life of cold separation and barely prevented arguments – it might take time, and try her patience to its limits, but she would find a way to forge a relationship with William, which went beyond cold politeness. Far beyond, if possible…

Below her window, the evening breeze stirred the gardens her mother-in-law had once tended with such care. Charlotte thought of the conservatory William had mentioned, its glass panes still waiting for repair. Perhaps there lay another avenue of approach - but that would require careful planning and even more careful timing.

She returned to her notes with renewed purpose. Tomorrow would bring fresh opportunities to prove her worth as more than merely a decorative mistress for Alverton. Tonight, she would prepare herself for that challenge.