“You’ll be present for the reading of the will?” she asked.
He lowered his hat. “As your personal solicitor, I wouldn’t miss a single word.”
“Are you not the personal solicitor to the new duke?” she asked in confusion. A sudden thought occurred to her. “Is there a new duke?”
“There is, indeed. He is still being fetched from overseas.”
“Then why should you wish to help me? Won’t the new duke be your employer?”
Mr. Underwood’s lip twisted. “My employment was with the duke himself, not his estate. He wasn’t even cold before the old dragon sacked me.”
Ah. Charlotte curled her hands into fists. Only those with an ulterior motive ever showed kindness to one such as her.
She moved closer to the door. “I am not in the market for a solicitor at this moment.”
“Then who shall manage your funds?” he asked quickly. A crafty smile twisted his lips. “Your husband?”
She paused with her hand on the knocker.
What if she did inherit money today? It would not be hers for long. A wife’s husband was sole owner and administrator of all property, was he not?
A cold sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Anthony’s lack of control with money had nearly ruined both their lives, and was not yet over. Until he repaid the Duke of Lambley, the specter of debtors’ prison continued to cast its shadow over their future and their marriage.
Anthony was unquestionably the last person who should control a single farthing of their money—yet, legally, he was the only person who could.
Unless a solicitor managed some portion of the process. Who did she trust more?
In a gaming hell, there was no fortune too big to be lost forever on the turn of a card. London was full of a thousand such opportunities. To a man who loved to wager, temptation would be everywhere. She could not swallow her dread. Had she come this far only to lose it all? To lose Anthony…If not today, then tomorrow or the next day?
She glanced over her shoulder at Mr. Underwood.
He placed his hat against his chest. “It would be an honor to protect your interests.”
An honor. She laughed without humor No one cared about her interests other than Charlotte herself…and Anthony.
She turned back to the door and rapped the knocker against its base.
The door swung open to reveal an impassive butler in impeccable attire. “May I help you?”
“I’m expected,” she stammered. Her neck heated. “My name is Mrs. Fairfax now, but it should be on the list as Charlotte Devon.”
The butler held out his hand expectantly.
She stared at him blankly, then colored in humiliation. “I—I don’t have a calling card. It’s just…Charlotte Devon. It should be on the list.”
“See?” whispered Mr. Underwood from behind her. “You need an advocate.”
She ignored him.
The butler motioned her inside. “Just a moment.”
She took a deep breath and stepped into the manor. The door silently swung closed behind her.
“Please wait here.” The butler crossed the hall and entered what Charlotte presumed to be a parlor. She could not see within, but the hum of voices was unmistakable.
“Who?” shrilled a voice. “We cannot possibly entertain admittance to my uncle’s bastard. We should not compound his mistakes with our own.”
Charlotte’s cheeks burned with shame. She wrapped her arms about herself and wished Anthony could be with her. Perhaps she did need an advocate.
“Her name is on the will, Mabel,” snapped a cold female voice. “This is a legal matter, not a family one. Show her in, Teagle.”
Charlotte winced. She should not be surprised that an illegitimate daughter would not be considered family.
“As you wish, madam.”
Within moments, the butler reappeared in the entryway. “If you’ll come this way, please.”
Humiliation hunching her shoulders, Charlotte concentrated on her breathing and forced her feet to carry her toward the parlor.
“But a by-blow isn’t legal.” The shrill voice climbed even higher. “You cannot be serious, Aunt. It’s a humiliation to us all. This Devon creature is nothing more than the spawn of a—” The voice choked off as Charlotte stepped into the room. “You?” She flung a shocked gaze toward the solicitor. “‘Charlotte Devon’ is Mrs. Fairfax?”
Charlotte’s limbs stopped working. Her face flooded with embarrassment. The family member so offended at the thought of a whore’s daughter in their midst was none other the baroness who had sought her advice not five days prior.
“Lady Roundtree,” she said weakly. “Lovely to see you again.”
The baroness stared at her openmouthed, then harrumphed.
“Mabel, that will do,” snapped a majestic older lady who sat in an ornate chair. “You will hold your tongue if you wish to attend this meeting. I shall deal with your impertinence later.”
The old dragon, Charlotte realized. This was the dragon lady Mr. Underwood had warned struck fear into all of London. Charlotte’s entire body trembled.
“Sit,” the dragon lady commanded. “Mr. Gully will commence with the reading of the will.”
Charlotte stumbled over to the empty chair closest to the doorway and forced herself to sit.
The only other person in the room was an elegant older lady who fanned her narrow face impatiently, as if both Charlotte and Lady Roundtree were wasting her time.
Dismissing them all, the dragon lady turned her attention to the executor. “Mr. Gully, you may speak.”
The solicitor cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming today. While we had anticipated the new duke’s presence for the reading of the bequests, he has not yet reached England. However, as his name is not mentioned in the late duke’s will, we may continue without worry.”
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “The new duke won’t inherit anything?”
“Besides the dukedom?” the elegant lady drawled from behind her painted fan.
The back of Charlotte’s neck prickled. Once again she had embarrassed herself. How much proof did she need that their world was not hers?
“The majority of the estate is entailed.” The dragon lady’s sharp voice carried as she gave a curt explanation. “Courteland was thus reduced to providing a few monetary disbursements from his private funds.”
Charlotte nodded dumbly. Entailed property was so foreign to her experience, it hadn’t even crossed her mind. She shrank back in her chair. The thought of being “reduced” to mere pots of money was equally ludicrous. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She didn’t belong here at all.
The solicitor cleared his throat. “To the duke’s elder sister, Lady Dorothea Pettibone, His Grace the Duke of Courteland leaves all monies not otherwise specified, and grants her the power to oversee all of the following bequests.”
The other two ladies gasped. The dragon lady merely inclined her regal head.
Not the dragon lady, Charlotte reminded herself. Lady Pettibone.
“To the duke’s younger sister, Lady Adelia Upchurch, His Grace the Duke of Courteland leaves an annuity of four thousand pounds for the remainder of her life.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped at the exorbitant sum.
“To the duke’s niece, the Right Honorable Lady Mabel Baroness Roundtree, His Grace the Duke of Courteland leaves a single payment of five thousand pounds.”
“Not an annuity?” Lady Roundtree choked out in affront.
“You’ve a wealthy husband,” Lady Upchurch pointed out dryly. “Isn’t your current portion far greater than five thousand pounds?”
Lady Roundtree sniffed. “One can never have too much money.”
“To the duke’s daughter, Miss Charlotte Devon,” the solicitor continued, “His Grace the Duke of Courteland leaves an annuity of one thousand pounds for the rest of her life.”