Page 6 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

Chapter Two

June 1817, Alverton House, London

William Hawthorne, Duke of Alverton, stood at the window of his study in his London townhouse, watching dawn creep across the city’s rooftops. The early morning quiet suited his temperament, allowing him to think without interruption. His man of business would arrive shortly, bringing the final settlement papers for his upcoming marriage - a union he had arranged with the same careful consideration he gave to all estate matters.

The study reflected its master’s personality - everything in precise order, from the methodically arranged ledgers to the carefully organised correspondence awaiting his attention. No trace remained of his father’s chaos, the scattered bills and desperate prayers for credit that had nearly ruined them. William had spent six years rebuilding what generations of Hawthornes had repeatedly built and almost lost, and he would not see his work undone.

“Your Grace?” His butler’s measured tones broke into his thoughts. “Mr Harrison has arrived.”

“Show him in.”

William moved to his desk, selecting the relevant papers from their precise stack. His man of business entered with a deferential bow, his own portfolio tucked under one arm.

“Good morning, Your Grace. I have the settlement papers for your review, along with the latest figures from the northern estate.”

William nodded, accepting the documents.

“Sit, Harrison. I want to be certain that everything is in order before this afternoon’s meeting with Lord Westbridge.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Harrison settled into the chair, his expression carefully neutral. “I’ve reviewed the terms carefully. Lady Charlotte’s dowry is quite generous, and the Earl’s connections in Parliament could prove valuable.”

“Indeed.” William scanned the papers, his grey eyes sharp. Every detail must be perfect - he would not risk his family’s security on careless oversights. “And the special provisions I requested?”

“All included, Your Grace. The Duchess’ pin money will be substantial, befitting her position, while remaining within the parameters you specified.”

William’s fingers traced the edge of the document. He had ensured that the settlement was more than fair - generous, even. His future bride would want for nothing material, though he suspected that Lady Charlotte Wyndham might have hoped for more than such practical considerations in a marriage.

He had seen her once, at a distance, during her Season - a petite blonde with remarkable poise and a smile that transformed her entire countenance. She had been surrounded by admirers, but had shown admirable discretion, so he had heard, in refusing several offers from gentlemen who were eligible, but somewhat prone to excessive spending. That combination of social grace and good sense had first drawn his attention.

“William?” His sister’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Are you completely determined to treat this like a business transaction?”

Lady Margaret Hawthorne stood in the doorway, her dark hair and eyes - so like his own - reflecting their shared heritage. Mr Harrison rose immediately, bowing to the lady.

“That will be all, Harrison,” William said. “Have copies sent to Lord Westbridge now, and a copy for me to take there this afternoon.”

Once the man of business had departed, Margaret moved further into the room.

“You haven’t answered my question, brother.”

“Marriage is a serious undertaking, Margaret. It requires careful consideration.”

“Careful consideration, yes. But not cold calculation.” She settled into the recently vacated chair, her expression concerned. “Lady Charlotte is quite young. And by all accounts, rather romantic in her inclinations.”

“Then it’s fortunate that she has a practical father who understands the importance of a suitable match.”

William returned to the papers, though his sister’s words had struck uncomfortably close to thoughts which he preferred to avoid.

“Like Elizabeth’s father understood?”

William’s hands stilled.

“That was different.”

“Was it?” Margaret’s voice softened. “You were both young, both believing in romance. Her betrayal hurt you deeply, I know. But Lady Charlotte isn’t Elizabeth.”

“No, she isn’t.” William stood abruptly, pacing to the window. “She’s the daughter of an Earl, with an impeccable reputation and the qualities needed in a Duchess. Our positions in society are compatible, our temperaments adequately suited. What more is required?”

“Perhaps a chance at happiness? The possibility of love?”