Scandal's Daughters

Chapter 14

Anthony ushered Charlotte into the inn and away from Courteland’s solicitor. Keeping a close eye on his wife, Anthony commissioned a room and coordinated the delivery of their luggage in order to get her into the privacy of a bedchamber as quickly as possible.

Charlotte stood woodenly by his side throughout. Not speaking, not making eye contact, not even changing expression. Walking where he led her. Remaining motionless when he did not. An empty shell.

Someone who didn’t know her might assume her to be blind, deaf, and mute, so completely oblivious was she to everything around her.

Anthony made no such assumptions. He knew it was true. Her mother’s so-called relaxation technique had become not just a defense mechanism, but Charlotte’s best weapon against the outside world.

She had spent her life believing others didn’t think she mattered. Shutting them out was her way to show them they didn’t matter to her, either. She didn’t need their superiority, their insults, or their disgust. She didn’t need the blackguard father who couldn’t be bothered to spend a penny or even a spare moment on a child he well knew he’d sired. She didn’t need the world at all.

The problem was, Anthony was part of that world. By shutting out the grief and the pain and the longing, she closed herself off from him, too. He wished he could be there with her, wherever she was. He wanted to help protect her. She didn’t have to do it all alone. She could count on him, too. At least for this moment.

She just had to let him in.

He stoked the fire in the grate, then crossed to kneel before his wife. “Charlotte.”

She didn’t answer.

He took her hands. “I know it hurts. I shan’t tell you not to let some egotistic jackanapes wound your feelings from beyond the grave, because I have never been in your position and I might well feel the same pain you do. But do not give him more importance than he deserves. He’s gone, Charlotte. I’m right here. He cannot hurt you anymore.”

At least, Anthony hoped Courteland couldn’t hurt her anymore. There was no telling what the will-reading might bring. What if the other family members were cruel to her? He couldn’t recall the duke having an heir apparent, but that wasn’t necessarily a boon. Distant cousins fighting for scraps could be even more vicious than a half-sibling might be.

And while Anthony was here right now, holding her slender cold hands in his, would he still be there a week from now when she needed him? Dread washed over him. And fear. By then, he might already be in Marshalsea.

Hands shaking, he helped her into her night rail and carried her to bed. After taking off his heavy boots and greatcoat, he curled in beside her, determined never to let her go.

Gently, he stroked her hair. He wasn’t certain whether being named in Courteland’s will would prove to be a blessing or a curse. After all this time, after never taking an interest in his daughter while he was still alive to do so, what the deuce would the blackguard have left her in his will? More jewels? Land? A pittance?

Money, as always, would solve all their problems. But even if it were enough money to right his wrongs, he yearned to be as dependable as Charlotte needed him to be. To be responsible for a change. To provide for her, to clean up his own scrapes, to fix his life without ruining hers.

Trepidation snaked down his spine. What if the old duke did leave Charlotte something worth money and the creditors took it—and it still wasn’t enough to keep Anthony out of prison? He could never forgive himself if his past actions robbed her of her inheritance, after everything she’d already lost.

He doubted Charlotte would ever forgive him either.