“Hurt?” Shelby scoffed. “I don’t believe that. Not seriously. I watched you. I was proud of the way your poise never flagged. You’re like me—too smart to let anyone else get the upper hand. I knew by the way you conducted yourself that Haliday and Vivian’s actions didn’t really matter to you. Not at all.”
Charlotte looked as stunned as David felt. How was it possible for Shelby to have such little understanding of the person his daughter was?
She sagged a bit. “You don’t know anything, Father.”
David took her hand, and she squeezed his fingers. He didn’t give a damn what Shelby thought of the open act of caring.
Beckham entered, pushing a cart loaded with sandwiches. Shelby stood, irritation and impatience in his expression and every motion. “I’m going to eat,” he said, “and then I’m going home. And, Beckham, I intend to drink scotch, not tea.”
He did just what he’d said. In a matter of minutes, Charlotte’s father had consumed a collection of sandwiches, downed another scotch, and left.
David looked at Beckham. “We don’t need anything else right now. Please close the door and make sure we’re not disturbed.”
Charlotte’s brows lifted. “You’ll have all the servants gossiping.”
“As if they aren’t already.” He took her hand and pulled her toward him. “Come here.”
She set her plate on the table and let him guide her onto his lap. Once there, she didn’t require any further encouragement. Her open mouth matched his for urgency.
There were so many emotions he tried to express, but their kiss quickly turned into the kind normally reserved for the bedroom: deep, consuming, a kiss to get lost in. A kiss that made him want to possess her now.
They broke apart, panting. Her cheeks were as pink as the shawl about her shoulders, and her eyes shone like faceted jewels. David took a deep breath and let it out slow. He’d been a fool for a long time, but no more. How had he ever gotten so lucky to earn the love of this woman? She saw the imperfect man he was. He knew himself to be as flawed on the inside as his less than perfect body, yet Charlotte loved and desired him. Down to the center of his soul, he believed his infirmity didn’t matter to her. They made each other happy. And there was more.
His crippled legs hadn’t prevented him from supporting and reassuring Charlotte while she’d suffered the effects of that poison, nor from directing the search for the person responsible. When she’d been out of her head, he was the only one who could get her to take the medicine. Today he’d stopped a bullet meant for her. So he’d protected her. Protected her as well or better even than an able-bodied man might have. But again, there was more.
In time he would have discovered his crippled legs didn’t stop his being a physical, capable man, but one important thing would never have been realized without Charlotte’s help. She’d taught him to open his heart. To believe himself deserving of love and equal to the challenge. Now he believed. He felt more a man than when he’d stood on strong, steady legs. He just needed one answer for everything to be perfect.
He cupped Charlotte’s cheek. “I love you, Bluebell. I want to be able to hold you every day, not just when we go to the cottage. I want to be there every time you need me. I want to start every day with you, and end every blessed day with you.” He looked deep into her purple-blue eyes and smiled. “Marry me.”
She drew in a sharp breath, blinked and inched backward, creating a space between them. The shining, open expression in her eyes disappeared, and a gossamer curtain dropped, hiding her feelings. David’s stomach flipped. A thin blade of fear pierced his core, and his confidence began bleeding away.
“I thought you didn’t want to marry,” Charlotte said. “We agreed about that.”
“But that was before we fell in love.” He remembered. She didn’t think herself able to trust and considered it essential in a marriage. “You know me, Bluebell. You know I’d never leave you or intentionally hurt you.”
He ran his hand up her arm, searching for her familiar, lithe softness. Oh, God. There were tears in her eyes. How could that be? A moment ago they’d been so happy.
“How can you just…change? When you were so positive? So certain. I even tried to convince you that you were wrong, and I couldn’t.” Charlotte eased off his lap as if she thought he might break. Her face still glowed with a flush from his kisses. “I feel like I don’t know you.” She pressed her hands to the area just above her waist. “Why didn’t you tell me you were reconsidering our decision?”
David shook his head. “It’s not that simple. The bedrock of a person doesn’t change. You thought you stopped believing in a steadfast love, yet we found it together. Somewhere inside you there was still a seed. It grew and flowered. I thought I was too broken to be a proper husband. It’s your unfaltering acceptance of me that’s made me believe in myself again. I’ve loved you, championed you and protected you, all while I didn’t think I could ever again be lover, champion or protector. I became those things because of you. They were always in me, but I couldn’t believe it until your eyes showed me a true reflection of myself. I wasn’t hiding anything. I just realized what I wanted.”
Charlotte slid onto the chair beside him. He wanted to reach out and pull her back, but her face made him hold off.
She folded her arms across her waist and leaned over them. “I love you. I do. More than I ever believed it possible to love someone. That makes me want to trust you, but it doesn’t make it easier. The people I trusted—my father, my husband—had secrets. Secrets that concerned me. Terrible secrets that affected my life in a profound way. And, until I found them out, I trusted both of those men. Even Etherton, my friend Jane’s husband, held secrets from Jane, and that was in spite of loving her dearly. Now those secrets are causing her pain and ruining her marriage.”
David’s stomach twisted. “I’m not your father, Haliday, or Etherton. I haven’t lied or hidden any secrets.”
“You’re not listening,” Charlotte half-shouted. She unfolded her arms and gripped her hands in her lap. “If I marry you, if I decide to trust you, I’ll be completely vulnerable again.” She took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. “I’ve lived half my life in an invisible cage. I love you, but how can I trust you’ll continue to love me forever? I need to know that if anything happens I’ll still be free.”
“I believe in your love,” David offered. Desperation made his voice strained. “I trust it. Trust it will last. Despite what your father says, he’s never shown you love. Haliday should have loved you, but he was full of greed and debauchery. I doubt he was even capable of love.” He squeezed his chair’s armrests. “Deep inside, I think you wonder how I could love you when they couldn’t. But I do. So much. I understand why it’s difficult for you to trust the feeling again, but I’ll help you. This is different. This is me.”
He slapped his palms to his chest, but no. Oh, no, no, no. She was shaking her head back and forth.
“I can’t marry again, David. Not even you.” Her eyes closed, and she bowed her head. “Especially not you,” she whispered. “If it somehow went wrong, I don’t think I’d survive.”
Her words speared him like a Cossack’s shashka. He’d been crushed beneath a thousand-pound-horse and it hadn’t hurt like this. His heart plummeted into an empty pit and kept falling. He wondered if it would ever hit bottom.
Then anger spurted through him, turned him forge-hot. This wasn’t right. Charlotte was not being true to herself.
He grabbed her arms and gave her a little shake. Her head jerked up, revealing lashes spiky with tears. “Damn it, I love you! You’re not being honest nor fair. After all we’ve been through, you’re going to let your fear of what might happen stop us from enjoying happy, full lives?”
She pulled away and he released her arms. The sound of their rapid breaths filled the silence.
“Not us, David. Me. By refusing you, I’m depriving myself. I’m not meant to marry. Trust makes us vulnerable and gives someone else the pow
er to hurt us. I’m too frightened. The woman you marry should be your match in strength—in all your wonderful qualities. As much as I can’t bear to think of you with someone else, I know it’s best. I intended to tell you so. I’d already decided.”
He hardly knew what to say. “What kind of nonsense is this? You’re destroying me now to save me later?” A grim, choked laugh escaped him.
She stood and gripped her hands together, the knuckles turning white. He felt her withdrawal and despair crowded close. Convince her, man! He had to make her understand they could weather every challenge.
“You’re exactly my match, and you’d make a very fine wife. I admire so much about you, but how can I convince you? Do you think I’ve never been frightened?”
She blinked as if he’d surprised her.
“I’ve been riddled with fear, stinking of it more times than I can count. I understand fear, and I understand hurting. Let me help you, sweetheart.”
Misery twisted her face. His love did this to her? He’d thought he knew her so well, yet he hadn’t expected this. And wasn’t that what she feared—that she could never really know the person she loved? If she put her faith in him, it left her vulnerable to exactly this kind of hurt, a hurt only he could inflict.
Christ!
“I don’t know what to say, Charlotte, except that you’re hurting now. Not marrying hasn’t spared you.”
“Yes, it has,” she murmured. “It would be so much worse if you were my husband. David, I want to trust you. If I could trust anyone, it would be you.” Tears ran down her face. She pressed a handful of the shawl to her eyes.
Ah, Bluebell, how have we come to this?
He had to see her face. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down. He’d looked into her eyes as he thrust into her body, and he knew she loved him to the rock-bottom of her soul. So he said, “You’re wrong. All you have to do is let yourself. Let yourself trust me.”
Tight-jawed, she shook her head.
David wasn’t sure what she was disagreeing with, and he didn’t care. If he didn’t leave right now he was going to break down or smash something. He released Charlotte and gave his wheels a mighty push toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back. He struggled to keep the bitterness from his voice and said, “You know, it’s not just me you have to believe in. It’s yourself, too.”
He opened the door and barked for Boone, who came running. The man took one look at David’s face and wheeled him out the front door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Charlotte stumbled into her bedroom. For a minute she stood adrift, no landfall in sight. Then a noise drew her to the window. David was leaving.
She went and watched as he arranged his sling and hauled himself into his carriage. He’d discarded Boone’s bandage upon his head. His bright hair stood out like a beacon in the dusk. Why had he removed it, though? Was he hurting? Dizzy? She should be with him, she knew. She should be taking care of him.
Behind her, the door opened. “Lady Haliday?”
Charlotte didn’t turn from the window. She had to force in two deep breaths before she was able to speak. “I won’t be needing anything, Rebecca. I’d like to be left alone.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“In fact, I don’t want to be disturbed again tonight.”
Charlotte heard the rustle of the maid bobbing a curtsy and leaving, then the click of the door. The events of the past several hours, and most especially of the last hour, had battered her to insensibility. She tightened her shawl—the shawl David had wrapped around her shoulders—and wondered how could he want to end everything they had by pushing for more. They’d always said they didn’t want to marry. So, what right did he have to be angry with her? He’d been so very angry. Yet he was the one who’d made the unnecessary proposal. She hadn’t been able to terminate their affair, even though she knew it was for the best, so they could have gone on just as they were…at least for a while. Instead, on this god-awful terrible day when she needed him more than ever before, he’d left her. And he blamed her, saying she couldn’t believe herself capable of standing strong in her love.
Was that it? She did trust David, of course she did. But if that trust was challenged, would it collapse? If put to the test, would it sustain? Worse, would she erode their love with constant doubts and reassurances?
As David’s carriage pulled away, Charlotte pressed her forehead against the window. Her entire life, her father had hidden the existence of a daughter, her sister. Her marriage—no, her entire association with Haliday—had been defined by his duplicity. Was it any wonder she doubted her ability to wholly trust anyone? And most painful of all, hadn’t David just ended their association in spite of his vows of love? It was exactly what she’d feared all along, just early.
There’d be no comfort tonight. Nor would there be any tomorrow when she saw him at the Patriotic Fund offices. How ironic that she would yearn for the solace of David’s arms to save her from the pain of his abandonment. However would she bear it?
She stood at the window long after David’s carriage turned the corner, even until the streetlighter passed.
#
Charlotte gave Chetney a quiet greeting as she entered the Royal Patriotic Fund’s administrative area and moved straight through to her own office, but Persa stopped to give the secretary a quick, more enthusiastic greeting. Charlotte removed her hat, listening. Chetney chuckled, and then the tinkle of claws on marble sounded, marking the dog’s hurried steps into David’s office.
He was here, then.
She’d barely seated herself at her desk when David rolled in, Persa ensconced on his lap and looking quite pleased with herself. Frowning, David nudged the terrier off him. She leaped to the floor and sat.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Didn’t you get my note?”
Charlotte lowered her hands to her lap where they were out of sight and clenched her chilled fingers together. She had gotten his note. The one that politely informed her he didn’t expect, under the present circumstances, for her to continue working for the Royal Patriotic Fund. He’d urged her to take some time to completely recover from her recent medical and situational crises; he’d fill her position and when she was ready provide her with a recommendation to help her secure a post with another government agency or charity. After receiving that letter, she’d wanted nothing more than to wallow in misery. Over and over she’d recalled yesterday’s events, as well as every private moment and conversation she’d ever had with David.
Her stomach cramped, and she wished she’d eaten something this morning, but she’d only gotten a couple swallows of tea down. “I don’t need a rest. I prefer to work.”
Surely he was the one in need of rest. He’d been shot yesterday.
A muscle in his jaw bulged, a jaw that looked hard and sharp as chiseled granite. “I’ve already sent out the notice. I’ll be interviewing applicants for your position.”
“That will take weeks, and there’s too much to do. I’ll work until you hire my replacement.” Charlotte paused. She understood. Of course she did. He was hurting, just as she was. Working in such close proximity would effectively pour salt in both of their wounds. “I’ll stay out of your way, I promise.”
She’d keep her door closed, update him via memorandums. Chetney could be their go-between. Perhaps that way she could do what she had to do and survive. Because she wasn’t leaving. Not yet.
David’s shoulders drooped, all rigidity gone. He closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face, and when he looked at her again he exuded weariness. He rolled forward until the toes of his shoes touched the front of her desk. For a minute he let her see the sleepless night, the misery, and the determination.
“I don’t want you here, Charlotte,” he said, at once firm and quiet.
Don’t cry, she willed herself. Whatever you do, do…not…cry.
She couldn’t bear to look in his eyes, so she stared at the masculine dent in his chin, made
her voice no-nonsense brisk. “I have an appointment with Edith Carroll at the end of the month. I’ll stay until I’ve concluded my business with her.”
He’d been so grateful the day she’d agreed to attend to his good friend’s widow. The meeting had been postponed several times, and Charlotte couldn’t leave him to face the woman’s animosity.
His low, vulgar curse shocked her. She jerked her gaze from his chin and saw that, hands fisted, face flushed, he fairly radiated outrage.
“Chetney!” he roared.
The secretary arrived so fast he might have been discharged from the muzzle of an Enfield.
“Take me back to my office, and see that Lady Haliday’s appointments are moved to my calendar. Then get her a hack.”
Chetney, eyebrows at maximum loft, looked back at her as he wheeled David away.
“The hack can sit out front all day,” Charlotte called after them, barely resisting stamping her foot. “I’m not going home. And I’ll be back tomorrow and every day after that for two weeks.”
Even from the confines of his office, it wasn’t difficult to hear David’s angry voice. “She’s going, Chetney.”
The secretary exited David’s office. He stood and gaped at her.
“I’ll say a prayer for you, Mr. Chetney,” Charlotte said and closed her door.
#
Setting the traveling bag at her feet, Vivian flexed her fingers. Stuffed with her maid’s clothes, it was heavier than she’d anticipated. Mary must have been thrilled when she’d found her employer’s entire wardrobe abandoned in exchange for a few of her own simple dresses.
Vivian looked down at the well-worn jacket, skirt, and sturdy black shoes she wore. She’d tinted her hair with a henna rinse and dressed it in a simple, low knot. Most of it was tucked out of sight under Mary’s navy bonnet. Her ticket, and what money remained after purchasing her passage to America, were in the nondescript reticule she carried. Her jewels were secured in bags and sewn to her petticoat. Withdrawing money from her bank had been out of the question, which meant there wasn’t much for starting life over, but this was all she had.
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