She raised her hand to knock on the study door, remembering all too well the last time she’d entered this room. Her father had been alive and James had been at her side. She pressed her hand against the ache in her chest.
In truth, the pain was caused more by the loss of James than her father. She didn’t miss having to tip-toe about the house with the hope of avoiding his wrath. Even the servants appeared to be in better spirits than when he’d been alive. None of them seemed to mind wearing their black armbands.
But she missed James with a deep ache. She reprimanded herself for allowing him to steal into her thoughts. Not now. Thinking of him wouldn’t make this any easier. Far from it, in fact. Perhaps after more time had passed, in two or three years, she would look back on their adventures with fondness instead of heartache.
With a deep, steadying breath, she knocked on the study door. At her brother’s muted response, she opened it to find Edward staring out the window.
She walked slowly forward, her fingers finding James’ handkerchief, which she kept tucked in her sleeve to comfort her. The faint scent of him still clung to the fine linen. She couldn’t bring herself to have it washed, despite the numerous tears she’d shed into it. Holding it was the closest she would ever come to holding James again.
“Good morning, Edward.” She forced her lips into the semblance of a smile, worried that if she allowed her true feelings to show, her brother wouldn’t accept her plan.
He turned to face her but didn’t return her smile. Shadows smudged his eyes and his face was pale.
“How bad is it?” she asked with a glance at the papers strewn across the desk.
“Bad.” Edward tugged at his cravat as if it were overly tight. “Worse than I could’ve imagined.” He waved at the papers. “If I had known— If Father had told me—” He shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Have you advised Mother?”
“Not yet.”
“Good.” Her mother had suffered enough due to her father’s actions. At least Charlotte could take some pleasure in knowing she could spare both her mother and brother pain.
“Good?” Edward scoffed. “I have to tell her soon. Later today, perhaps. The quicker action is taken, the better. We’ll have to let most of the servants go.”
Charlotte nodded. That was one more reason for her to move forward with her plan. Many of them would be spared the effort of searching for new employment. She cleared her throat. “I have a suggestion.”
“What might that be?”
“I will marry Lord Samuelson as Father wished.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat, refusing to allow tears to fill her eyes.
“No.”
“Yes. It is what must be done.” She felt calmer for having said it. “Will you contact him or should I send him a message?”
“After all we went through to see you spared from a match with him, I will not allow this.” Edward’s eyes flashed with temper.
“I am very sorry for arguing with Father on the matter. If I could take back that day...” She didn’t bother to finish the thought as she stared at what she realized were a pile of bills on the desk. “I cannot undo the past, but I can do my part to aid our family.”
“No. I am searching for an heiress. If I marry well, it will ease our problems considerably. I have to marry soon anyway.”
“As do I. Send a message to Lord Samuelson. Today.”
“But Charlotte, James—”
She jerked at the mention of his name and held up a hand to stop whatever Edward intended to say. “This is the least I can do for causing all this.”
“You didn’t cause it. Father did. The selfish bastard,” Edward muttered, the anger in his tone shocking.
“Do not speak ill of him now. He’s gone. What’s done is done. Let us move forward. Today.” She lifted her chin. “Please advise me as to whether Lord Samuelson is still agreeable to a match. An extended betrothal will be necessary because of mourning, but surely he won’t protest that requirement.”
She turned and walked out, retrieving the handkerchief from her sleeve to hold against her cheeks as her tears fell. Only then did she realize the linen had lost his scent after all.
Chapter Twenty-One
“What have you done?”
James glanced up, dismayed to see an angry Edward, chest heaving, standing at his side where he sat at a card game at Madame Gaston’s.
“I’ve just played an ace as you can clearly see.” James gestured toward the center of the table where his card sat, exposed, much like he felt at the moment.
“Stand up. Now.”
James hesitated a moment, not looking forward to resolving this before interested onlookers. The afternoon had yet to give way to evening and only a few others were playing. He stood and glanced about the room then looked again at Edward. “Why don’t we discuss this outside?”
He turned to walk toward the door but was jerked back by Edward.
“How dare you!” Edward’s fist clenched, a sure sign he was about to throw a punch.
James sighed. He hadn’t meant to hurt his friend’s pride by paying the debt. He had wanted to help. To make up for what he’d done, though he knew the effort had been paltry at best.
Nothing he could do would bring back Lord Wynn.
James had been through much—fought in battles, witnessed death, and struggled against his inner demons. But he didn’t want to lose another friend. Nor did he wish to lose Charlotte. Did he allow Edward to hit him with the hope it calmed him, and then try to explain?
Edward swung, and James braced himself, leaving his hands at his sides. This moment wasn’t about him or what he wanted. But that didn’t mean the blow wouldn’t hurt.
To James’ surprise, Edward drew back at the last moment, an indignant look on his face. “Defend yourself.”
“I’m not going to fight
