As soon as the words left her mouth, they rebounded and struck deep like sharp-bladed arrows. Wasn’t she letting her father and Haliday’s mistakes stop her from attaining happiness with David? David had never given her reason to doubt him, only reasons to have faith. How was it she could advise Jane to believe in Phillip when she withheld her trust from her own perfect man? She’d told David that independence—freedom—was most important to her, yet her lack of faith had kept her shackled to Haliday’s betrayal all this time.
As surely as she knew Jane had hurt Phillip, Charlotte knew she’d inflicted a mountain of pain upon David. Their lack of faith must have crushed the men they loved. It had ended her love affair with David, and it might yet deal Jane’s marriage the final killing blow.
Anger fired up inside Charlotte, but this time it was anger at herself. She’d acted like a ninny, refusing to look beyond old hurts. The past week had been complete anguish. She was better than this. Stronger than this. She knew her heart belonged to David. That had never been in question. David held it in the palms of his hands, and he would never destroy it. He’d protect and care for it. If she let him.
David’s love was as solid and steady—and as fierce—as he was. It was time for her to let the past go, to believe in herself as a woman worthy of his love and capable of returning it. As certain as she felt right now, she knew there’d be times when she’d need encouragement and reminding, but David had offered to help her and she trusted him to do that.
She’d been so frightened of being vulnerable. All because of the actions of Haliday, a man she’d conjured and who hadn’t really existed. She’d been young and impressionable and trusting without good reason, thereby giving the real Haliday the opportunity to do immeasurable harm. She’d trusted Father, too, even after a lifetime of proof she should not. But David had said she knew him. And she did. She knew the bedrock of him.
Jane’s tears had nearly dried, and as difficult and hurtful as this conversation had been, Charlotte thought her intelligent friend would benefit from it. Eventually she would surface from her sea of anger and despair and reason her way through. Charlotte would be there to give whatever support she could.
Her friend was quicker to rational thought than she’d expected. Jane raised her head and said, “I can see that my parents probably contributed to my feelings, but there’s something else I haven’t explained.” Her look—almost one of embarrassment—heightened Charlotte’s interest.
“Phillip was the third son. He never expected to be earl. And you know how brilliant he is.”
Charlotte nodded.
“He became a civil engineer—a railway engineer and railway bridge designer—because he wanted to work where he could do the most good. He envisioned spending his life in countries that desperately needed railways and lacked men with the education to build them. He loved the travel. Loved finding the best route for the rail, cutting tunnels, designing and building bridges. He loved opening up remote areas and bringing new opportunity to the people who lived there.”
Charlotte nodded again. She knew Jane had met Phillip after his father and two older brothers unexpectedly died of cholera, requiring him to return from his work in South Africa and assume the title.
“Phillip gave up the work he loved when he became Earl. He explained how he felt before he married me. He didn’t love me—not then—but he liked me more than any woman he’d met.”
“Because you are as smart and serious and generous as he,” Charlotte suggested. Their union might not have started as a love match, but it hadn’t taken long for passion and a profound caring to grow. It certainly wasn’t one-sided. Charlotte was positive Phillip loved Jane just as deeply as Jane loved him.
Her friend smiled. “He hadn’t wanted to be earl, but since he was, he intended to be the best one he could. He took his responsibilities seriously and spoke frankly before we married. He wanted to know if I’d be willing to have a large family. He wanted sons to secure the title, and he wanted to be involved in his children’s lives. He said he hoped he wouldn’t make too boring a husband. He had no enthusiasm for being Etherton, but he intended to do his duty.”
Charlotte’s friend squeezed her eyes shut. When she blinked and drew a deep breath, the look she wore begged Charlotte to understand. But Charlotte was uncertain.
“Don’t you see? If I can’t give him the son he needs, he’ll have given up his dreams for nothing. And it’ll be my fault!”
What could she say? Leaving Phillip without a legal male descendent was more to Jane than simply failing the law of primogeniture. It was failing to make Phillip happy. Charlotte could see how that would cut so deep.
“Have you told Phillip how you feel?”
Lips crimped together, Jane shook her head.
“You need to. You might find Phillip has an opinion on the state of his life and his dreams that’s different than what you imagine. You’ve always said he’s the best man you’ve ever known. And the smartest. The man’s marriage is in shambles, but the truth might be the solution. Don’t you think he deserves to know what’s really going on inside you?”
“I don’t need empty reassurances,” Jane snapped.
“What makes you think they’ll be empty?” Charlotte replied. She wasn’t about to let Jane make the same mistake she’d made with David. Jane needed to be honest with her husband and tell him what she really feared, and a sudden impatience surged in her like the burst of water from a pump. “He deserves another chance. You’d better give it to him, or you’ll have me to contend with in addition to everything else. Just go back. Leave the girls at your townhouse with Nanny and Miss Edwards.”
Jane stared into Charlotte’s eyes, a little less rigid. “I may have expected him to understand what I was feeling without my explaining. He thinks I’m jealous and angry that I haven’t produced an heir. He doesn’t understand why I can’t accept the thought of his cousin inheriting.”
“You need to explain it to him just the way you did to me. I know Phillip must be as devastated by this split as you are.”
“I’ve been so angry, I haven’t really thought of his feelings,” Jane admitted. “I haven’t really let myself.” A quavering smile tilted her lips. Then she and Charlotte exchanged hugs and Charlotte escorted her downstairs.
At the front door they found Mr. Chetney dropping off what papers he had for her. Charlotte quickly introduced him to Jane, who then left. But Charlotte was still aflutter. Her earlier thoughts of David had stirred a warring mix of emotions inside her. Excitement was uppermost, but, like Jane, she felt fear and regret, too. What if David was disgusted by the way she’d acted and no longer wanted her? That was extremely possible.
“Well, thank you for these,” Chetney said, holding up the letters she’d had waiting for him in return. “I’ll take them in tomorrow morning. I’m for home now.”
“Has Mr. Scott left the office as well?”
Surprise flashed across Chetney’s face, closely followed by a frown. “I’m afraid not. He’s been keeping rather long hours of late. It’s not good for him, either.”
Already tender inside from sharing Jane’s distress, this blow stung. “Is he ill?” Charlotte asked.
“No, not ill. He’s…” Chetney paused and looked away. His complexion had a distinctly flushed appearance. “Let’s just say I’ve seen him look more rested.”
David had looked exhausted her last day at the offices, and that had been four days ago. Worry welled up in Charlotte with the pressure of a boiling kettle capped with a tight-fitting lid.
As soon as the door closed behind the secretary, Charlotte raced for the stairs. A mere ten minutes later she was on her way. She hugged Persa and marked each street they passed, and for once she beat her dog out of the coach. The driver tipped his hat and drove off, while Persa whined and scratched at the front entrance of the Patriotic Fund office building and gave Charlotte a pleading look. Charlotte gripped the handle and swung the door wide.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FI
VE
David lifted his head. The sun had set, and his small lamp just lit the top of his desk. He barely had light enough to make out her figure, but he knew. He could feel her presence. Bittersweet hope lanced through him and whirled his soul into such a tangle he feared he might burst apart. He clamped down on it, hard, and clenched his teeth together.
He scarcely noticed when Persa launched herself onto his lap. He rubbed her ears, his eyes straining to make out Charlotte’s face. Why was she here? There was nothing left to say. A week and a half ago she’d left his heart, mind and spirit gravely wounded, and he doubted he’d survive if he let her do further damage.
She strode forward, her face full of anticipation, her lips curving. A mere three paces from him, she stopped abruptly and her expression crumpled. Whatever she saw in his face, it had shaken her.
He marshaled his will and battened down the longing that lashed his core. Christ. Why was she here? He nudged Persa from his lap.
“What do you want, Charlotte?” Please, please, let her get it quickly and leave.
“I…I… Are you all right?”
Anger began to trickle through his defenses. He closed his eyes. Why couldn’t she stay away and leave him in peace? It was already nearly impossible to get up each day. To dress, work, and eat. He didn’t need the additional burden of this fresh encounter, the reminder of how she looked and sounded. And smelled, he thought, as he caught a whiff of her alluring scent.
“Why are you here?” he asked again.
She came forward. Slow, slow, slow. Closer, closer, closer.
She was flushed, her bosom rising and falling with rapid breaths. Her tongue stroked across her lower lip, and he reacted with a small jerk before he could stop himself.
Charlotte stopped right next to him, gazed at him for a minute and then dropped to her knees to wrap her hands around the arm of his chair. He drew his arm in, away from her. His discomfort increased tenfold. Whatever she meant to say, he had a feeling she’d leave him far worse off than she’d found him.
“David, I’ve been such a fool.”
“What?” Charlotte was no dithering miss who changed her mind at every turn, especially not when the importance of the choice was momentous. “You can’t mean to retract your refusal.”
She grabbed his arm. “Yes. I was frightened. Stubborn. You love me, and you’d never do anything to hurt me. I believe in you.”
Her eyes gleamed like purple stars, and the urge to believe her—to accept her—rose in David with a power unlike anything he’d ever known. He held it back, just barely. Pressed it back with a paralyzing fear of his own.
He managed to force a few words out. “What changed your mind? Why so suddenly sure of me?”
“I spoke with Jane.” Charlotte shook her head and made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Everything between her and Phillip is in a muddle. Perhaps unfixable. It’s all unnecessary and very dangerous to their marriage. I realized I’ve been as foolish as she has.” The pleading expression she adopted nearly broke him. “I was rash. And stupid. Being apart from you is worse than any of the fears I imagined.”
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. Her open mouth.
A hard shudder tore through David, and he pulled her tight against him. Palming her head, he held her in place and devoured her mouth, stroked and thrust with his tongue, and wished he could mirror the movement inside her body with his suddenly stiff cock.
He urged her onto his lap. Her tongue twined with his, she unbuttoned his waistcoat, and right through the linen of his shirt he felt her hot ungloved hands moving over his chest. He tasted her, breathed her in, tilted his head and deepened the kiss even more. Her curves were just as womanly as he remembered. Her breast filled his palm, her waist so slender his fingers spanned from navel to spine. Frustrated by her layers of clothing, he pressed his face into her neck, below the angle of her jaw. Her head fell back as he mouthed her. Desire blazed. Incandescent and pure as the sun, it burned away every other thought.
Until she made a small noise.
As if rousing from a daze, he pulled back and looked at her. Her half-closed eyelids nearly hid her eyes, but he saw a narrow rim of purple-blue color circling those huge, dark pupils. Swollen lips, red from his kisses, and with high color marking her cheeks, she was beautiful.
She cupped his face. “I’m so sorry.”
Then he remembered.
“You believe in me…,” he rasped, repeating her earlier statement. “Believe in my love, I presume?”
She nodded.
“And you know I’d never hurt you.” The fire that roared through him just moments ago had turned to cold ash in his belly. Lack of love had never been the problem. There was a greater darkness here.
“Does this mean you trust me now? You’re not worried I might change someday and leave you with an unpleasant stranger for a husband? This means you can enter our marriage heart-whole, without doubts?”
She stiffened, and her eyes lost their slumberous look. A guarded expression stole over her face and a crease appeared between her brows.
“You’re not concerned I might be concealing my true nature? Just as Haliday did?”
“No,” she said with intensity. “There’s not another man hidden inside you. I hurt you by not believing in you, but I believe in you now.”
Anger built inside him, crowding out the warmth and hope. He loved her, but—damn it! The past two weeks she’d put him through hell! And now she was to say sorry and he was to forget it all?
“So you’re not afraid I might change. Not worried I might grow tired of you. What makes you so confident I’ll never feel different than I feel now? I’m a completely different man than I was five years ago. Or even one year ago.”
A whine drew his attention to Persa, who sat looking back and forth between them, a distressed expression on her canine face. Charlotte slid her feet to the floor and inched upward to stand at her full height. The look in her eyes sliced open David’s chest, and for a moment he had to look away, to steel himself. He didn’t want to do this, he really didn’t. But since the day she’d refused his proposal, anger and skepticism had extinguished the dream he’d had of them together.
Her silence confirmed it, too. She didn’t trust him. Not wholly.
“Will you watch me?” he asked. “Question me? Every time I lose my temper, will you lie awake and wonder if I’ve changed? Will I have to live with your doubt? Is that what a true marriage is based on?”
“You said you’d help me.”
“I wonder… Do you realize my faith has also been broken? I’ve trusted the love of two women in my life. You and Lydia. And you both tossed me away. Now I’m supposed to shrug, smile, and forgive? Welcome you back with open arms?”
Charlotte backed away, tucking her shaking hands behind the folds of her skirt. David hated himself in that moment. Christ, what a sorry bastard he was! Charlotte was a strong woman, yet he’d managed to beat her down. Yet, what if she was no longer capable of trust? Shelby and Haliday had certainly been awful.
Her skin had turned white, as if he’d eviscerated her and drained her of blood. That didn’t stop David from pushing farther. This had to be said.
“You say you believe in me, that your fear is gone. But how can you love me with a full heart if you don’t trust me?”
“I love you.”
That simple answer made stars shoot through his blood, but David squeezed his eyes closed. She didn’t look like a woman declaring her love. She looked desperate and hurting.
She took a step toward him. “I realized today, that’s what’s important.”
David felt a madman’s howl building, and he wasn’t sure he could hold it in. Was she right? Could she truly dismiss her concerns regarding trust and be happy regardless? His answer to her words ripped free of him in an agonized burst.
“I love you, too. But we’re not satisfied with each other. I can’t live with you doubting me. And you still do.”
Hi
s words hung between them. Lips parted, Charlotte stared. He couldn’t bear to look at the pain in her eyes—the pain he’d delivered—but he wouldn’t let himself look away, either.
Thank Christ, she whirled and ran, Persa scampering after her. God help him, Charlotte and everything he might have had with her was leaving. He’d have to satisfy himself with work, friends, and his brother’s family. Before he’d met her, when he was struggling back from seeing himself as a cripple, such an existence had seemed like a good life, a full life. Now, it stretched before him like a dead husk.
#
David heard Wakefield being admitted and looked up from his correspondence. The past week he’d worked all day at the office then continued to work all evening in his den. It helped subjugate his anger and keep his mind off his misery—and he was still catching up on the work he’d let fall behind while Charlotte was ill.
He’d last seen Wakefield the prior week, when he’d invited Miles to dinner and confronted him about his behavior to Charlotte on her last day in the office. Miles had yelled at her—another example of his bloody overprotectiveness, which they both knew stemmed from the guilt Miles felt. Even though David hated it, Miles couldn’t seem to stop. Well, he’d told the man again to cut it out, and to apologize to Charlotte.
His friend strode in but didn’t present the appearance David expected. Miles carried an odd-looking saddle over his left forearm, and he laid it atop David’s desk.
“Special delivery, Major.”
David immediately understood the unusual alterations that modified the item. The length of the flaps had been increased, and three leather straps were attached to each. Why had this never occurred to him?
“Will this work?” he asked. If the excitement rumbling through him was any gauge, if—when—he actually got on the back of a horse he might well fly apart. Or fall apart. For certain, when he dismounted he wouldn’t be the same man.
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