Charlotte walked in. Last week she’d been willing to take a leap of faith and marry. She’d put all her reservations aside, convinced their love would see them through. David hoped she’d still be willing, but if his stupidity had made her hesitant, then he would be patient. This time, he wasn’t giving up.
She hadn’t changed her dress after work. Her cheeks were rosy, and she looked beautiful. Persa scampered past her, raced to David, and leaped onto his lap. David rubbed the terrier and let her settle. He never took his eyes off Charlotte.
She nodded to Beckham, and the footman closed the doors, leaving them alone.
“What happened with Mrs. Carroll?”
David felt a flush of pleasure. Of course her first concern would be his lost friendship with the woman.
“If Peter is looking down, I think he’s pleased. We talked, and Edith accepts that I just encouraged Peter to follow his heart. She knows how much I miss him, and that I will shoulder some blame for the decision he made. But none of us took the risk of military service lightly, and Peter loved serving. I think in her soul Edith knows he wouldn’t have been happy doing anything else.”
“She stopped blaming you? Or if she couldn’t do that, did she forgive you?”
“She forgave me as much as she was able. And she’s agreed I might stay in contact with her.” It felt good to say that. “I’ll be able to abide by my promise to Peter. To provide advice if she asks, and any assistance she’s in need of. To make sure she’s safe and feels secure.”
Charlotte sat on the settee, laying a book beside her. “I’m glad. For both of you.”
David rolled forward until their knees touched. “It was your conversation with her that opened the door. I’m grateful. I feel as though a bit of wrong in my world has been righted.”
Charlotte’s lips curved. “I’m glad.”
The two of them fell silent.
“Have you tried the sad—?”
“I’m here to ask your forg—”
They spoke together, breaking off mid-sentence. David gave Charlotte an encouraging nod.
“Have you used the saddle?” Her expressive eyes shone eager and full of hope.
“Every morning since Wakefield delivered it. I’m indebted to you.”
“Does it work well? How does it feel to be riding?”
“Like food after a two year fast. But I didn’t come to thank you for the brilliant saddle or for your intervention with Edith.” He reached out, captured her hand, and cradled it. He raised those elegant long fingers and kissed them. “I’m here to apologize and ask if we could go back to the day you told me you loved me and wanted to marry. Please say we can go back.”
Her lips parted. She turned her hand until they were palm-to-palm, fingers interlocked. “I feel the same. Exactly the same.” She was beginning to smile, actually. “Are you saying…? Tell me what you’re saying.”
He tightened his fingers. Kissed the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve been crack-brained. I’m ashamed to admit it, but my damaged pride was to blame for my idiocy. I hope you can forgive me. If it’s any consolation, I’ve been the most miserable man in England.”
“I’m rather…stunned.”
“Stunned in a good way, I hope?” Her smile was full and beautiful, her face alight, so he went on. “Missing you made me see reason. I want to take that leap of faith with you.”
“I love you, David. So much. Will that be enough for you?”
“Yes. It’s more than enough. If someday you’re able to give me your whole heart, it will be a great treasure. But I don’t care when that happens.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. I want to marry you. As soon as you’ll have me.” He dragged in a breath. “It will be my everlasting shame that, for a while, I pushed you away.”
“I admit I prefer when we’re pulling together.”
Charlotte’s voice held an underlying tease. David’s throat grew hot, and he knew things were going to be all right.
“If you’re worried I’ll give up on us,” he said, “don’t. I’m not a man who gives up, and I’m not giving up on you, Charlotte. Not ever again. And if you’re worried I’ll become impatient, complain or criticize, I promise I won’t. Or I’ll be eager to work to fix that.”
She scooted to the edge of the settee and leaned toward him until their foreheads met. “There’s something I want to do.”
She moved back, stood, and picked up the book she’d brought with her. He noticed what book it was. Charlotte went to the cold fireplace, knelt, and opened the novel’s cover. David wheeled closer. One after another, she ripped out pages and tossed them into the fireplace just as he’d dropped identical pages into his brass waste receptacle weeks ago. He went closer, close enough to touch her, until he could see every nuance of her expression and the tiniest shimmer in her eyes.
She tore out the final page and held it aloft, her face confident and determined. The cover she tossed into the firebox. She stood, picked up a waiting match and striker, and passed it to David.
As she rolled the page, he struck the match, and when she held the paper tube out he touched the flame to it. The paper kindled and she raised it, the licking flame blackening and curling the edges, producing a thin column of dark smoke and a flood of charred paper smell. She dropped the burning sheet into its waiting bed, and the mass of paper caught, crackled and sang as flames rose and began to consume the entire heap. Its flare dispelled the shadows and set purple glints alight in her eyes.
David set his hands on her hips and guided her onto his lap. She twisted so she faced him, and he grasped her waist.
“I’m proud of you for burning that bloody book.”
She put a hand on each of his upper arms. “It was a reminder of how trusting someone makes you vulnerable. I haven’t forgiven Vivian, but I understand how despairing she was. I don’t want a reminder. I don’t want anything that might keep me apart from you or happiness. I don’t want to be afraid. I want to be free to love and trust.”
He traced her lips with his thumb, and her mouth opened just enough for the tip of his thumb to slip inside. Her lips pursed around it. He felt the gentle pull as she sucked it deeper, then the warm brush of her tongue as it swirled around the end of his thumb and pushed it from her mouth. His entire body went hard.
He wrapped his arms around her. She was warm, fragrant, and when he kissed her it was all he’d been yearning for. He tasted her wet, delicious mouth and asked for more. She answered, pressing harder, her tongue growing bolder.
When they broke apart, gasping, her smile grew huge and happiness spilled from her sparkling eyes. His own smile couldn’t stretch any broader, and his body thrummed. Even after being left for dead on the battlefield, waiting all night for daylight and rescue, breaking dawn hadn’t felt this good. He gathered Charlotte close, suffused with the most intense happiness he’d ever known.
“Will you be my friend, Bluebell? My love, and my wife?”
“Yes,” she said, and kissed him.
EPILOGUE
Four years later
Charlotte looked up, surprised but delighted as David came through the door.
“Papa!” Three-year-old Margaret ran across the room, her fingers holding in place the newsprint hat Charlotte had just made and put atop her head. Brown curls danced as the child climbed onto her father’s lap.
“What’s happened to my girl?” David asked. “Has she become a sailor?”
Margaret gave him an exuberant kiss, which earned her a grin, then nodded solemnly. “Yes, but Mama’s going to make a crown next, and then I’ll be a princess.”
“I see. I suppose that would make me king.”
Margaret laughed. “No, Papa. Kings wear crowns, and you don’t even wear a hat.”
The child patted David’s bare head, and Charlotte smiled at their antics. David still eschewed headgear. She recalled Wakefield’s long-ago description of David, the way he’d been before his injury. He’d become that
man again. A man of laughter.
She watched him give his daughter a big hug before letting her feet slide to the floor. Then he rolled toward Charlotte.
“How’s little Julia?” He glanced toward their four-month-old’s cradle.
With the birth of their second child, Charlotte and David’s joy knew no bounds. Whatever had caused her failure to conceive and carry a child for Haliday, she’d had no problems bearing David’s.
“She’s sleeping. What are you doing home?” On the days Charlotte didn’t accompany him to the office, she didn’t expect to see her husband until dinner time.
David rolled his chair close. “Something came in the mail today.” He pulled an envelope from his coat’s inside pocket and held it out. “It was addressed to both of us. I told Eleanor and Chetney to carry on, and I left.”
Eleanor had recently begun working at the Fund, and already the young woman was a valued addition to the growing staff.
Charlotte eyed the envelope and the postmark. Margaret had returned to the newspapers and was busy fashioning a three-year-old’s creation. Charlotte’s home and her family looked just as they had a moment ago, before David had pulled the letter from his pocket.
Her husband’s blue eyes held steady, a smile deep at their center. He responded to her unasked question.
“It’s from Vivian.”
“Did you read it?”
He nodded and extended it to her.
Charlotte curled up on his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. “Just tell me what it says.”
He hugged her close and she closed her eyes. “She’s in America. She likes it there and she’s trying to make up for the wrongs she’s done in the past.”
Charlotte opened her eyes and studied her husband’s chin. She slipped her fingers down his waistcoat until she found the little bump in his pocket. Her button.
David continued. “She doesn’t ask for forgiveness. She knows she’ll never deserve it. But she wants you to know that you need never again fear her. She intends to remain in America.” He tossed the envelope onto a nearby table. “She played a part in two deaths and tried to murder you. She can’t come back to England. But I think she’s truly contrite as well.”
Charlotte raised her head. “Do you have to go back to the office?”
David brushed his mouth across hers. Twice. Then his lips settled, and he delighted her with slow, lazy kisses.
Wherever Nurse had got to, she couldn’t have chosen a better time to be absent.
“Papa?”
At Margaret’s little voice, David broke off their kissing. “Yes, Poppet?”
“Why do you kiss Mama so much?”
David looked at Charlotte and grinned. “Because my legs are hollow and Mama’s trying to fill them up with kisses.”
She loved this man. Charlotte cupped his face, kissed him, and whispered in his ear.
“Will you be able to walk then?” Margaret asked.
“I don’t need to walk. Why walk when I can soar?” David said.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After a satisfying career as an Emergency Room nurse, Sheri Humphreys closed the book on her diverse nursing experiences and followed a lifelong love for writing and historical romance to a new vocation as a writer. She lives with a Jack Russell mix rescue, Lucy, in a small town on the central California coast.
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