Page 38 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

Mrs Walden’s expression held studied neutrality as she poured the tea.

“I believe not, Your Grace. His Grace gave instructions that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.”

The emphasis she placed on the last words spoke volumes. In the months since their marriage, William had never closed himself away so completely, not even during the worst of the influenza crisis.

“I see.” Charlotte accepted the teacup, grateful for its warmth between her suddenly cold fingers. “And Sir Geoffrey... do you know him well?”

“He holds the neighbouring estate to the north,” Mrs Walden replied, her tone suggesting that she chose her words with particular care. “His father and the late Duke had some dealings, I believe. Though Sir Geoffrey himself rarely visited during His Grace’s youth.”

Something in the Housekeeper’s phrasing caught Charlotte’s attention.

“What sort of dealings?”

Mrs Walden hesitated, smoothing her already immaculate apron.

“It is not my place to speak of such matters, Your Grace. But perhaps...” She glanced towards the door, lowering her voice. “Perhaps you might wish to speak with Mr Harrison, His Grace’s man of business. He would know more of the details.”

Before Charlotte could press further, the study door slammed with enough force to rattle the windows. Quick footsteps crossed the hall – not William’s measured stride, but a sharper, more aggressive pace. Charlotte rose, moving to the morning room door just in time to see Sir Geoffrey Caldwell’s retreating figure.

Even from behind, his bearing radiated barely contained fury. His fashionable coat pulled tight across his shoulders as he clenched his fists, and his boots struck the marble flooring with unnecessary force.

As he reached the main entrance, he turned slightly, revealing a profile that might have been handsome had it not been twisted with anger.

“This isn’t finished, Alverton,” he called, his voice carrying clearly through the house. “You’ll wish you’d been more reasonable when the truth comes out.”

The threat in his tone made Charlotte’s blood run cold. Before she could move, William appeared in the study doorway. His face held such tightly controlled rage that she barely recognised him.

“You forget yourself, sir,” he said, his voice pitched low but carrying an authority that seemed to fill the space. “Phillips will show you out.”

Sir Geoffrey’s laugh held no humour.

“Oh, I forget nothing, Your Grace. Unlike some, I remember exactly what is owed.” His sharp gaze caught Charlotte watching from the morning room door, and something ugly flickered across his features. “You should ask your dear Duke about his father’s debts, madam. You might find the answers... illuminating.”

William took one step forward, his hands clenched at his sides.

“That will be enough.”

But Sir Geoffrey was already turning away, letting Phillips usher him towards the door. Just before he exited, he paused one final time.

“One week, Alverton. Then we shall see what society makes of your father’s... creative accounting.”

The front door closed behind him with ominous finality. For a moment, silence gripped the house – even the servants seemed to hold their breath. Then William turned on his heel and strode back into his study, closing the door with a careful precision that somehow felt more frightening than any display of temper.