There was a slight tap at the door. “Mr. Baker?”
He opened the door to find Mrs. Weston holding a bundle of clothing over her arm. “Here are your wife’s things.” She hesitated for a moment, and then said, “I’m thinking you might want to check on her in the bathing room. I knocked to tell her I had her clothes, but she didn’t answer, and I am sure I heard crying.”
The blood drained from his face. With all she’d gone through the last month or so, it was no wonder she was crying. “Thank you, Mrs. Weston. I will check on her.”
She nodded and went on her way. How would Charlotte feel about him barging in on her bath? He’d already seen her unclothed, but since things were so nebulous between them right now, his hesitation was well-founded.
After a few minutes of indecision, he placed the pile of clean clothes on the bed, and headed to the bathing room. He knocked gently. “Charlotte? Is everything all right?”
No response. He leaned his ear against the door. “Charlotte?”
No words, but the muffled sound of sobs spurred him to undo the latch and enter. She sat in the tub with her knees bent, arms wrapped around her legs, her forehead on her knees, sobbing. He moved closer, then hunched down alongside her. Reaching out, he dipped his fingers into the water, then placed his hand on her wet hair, smoothing down the damp curls. “Honey, you’re going to freeze. The water has grown quite cold.”
No answer. She merely continued to cry as if her heart were broken, the sobs wracking her body. He looked around the room and spotted two drying cloths on a chair near the window. He rose, picked one up, and shook it out. “Sweetheart, you have to stand so I can dry you. You’re shivering.”
Her head moved back and forth, rubbing her forehead against her knees.
“Yes. You must stand.” He dropped the drying cloth, and reaching under her arms, he drew her up. Once he had her standing, he placed the cloth around her shoulders and took her hand. “Step out.”
Like a young child, she did as he said. Since all her clothing was in the room several doors down, he dried her as best he could, then wrapped her in the cloth. Despite whatever scandal it would cause, he scooped her up and carried her from the bathing room, down the corridor, to their room. Juggling her in his arms, he opened the door, strode inside, and placed her gently on the chair.
He riffled through the pile of clothes until he pulled out a white lawn nightgown. “Stand up, love.”
Charlotte stood, the drying cloth dropping to her feet. She was not herself, since she didn’t try to cover up. Being the gentleman he wished he weren’t, he slipped the gown over her head, hiding all that glorious skin. He took her by the hand, happy to see she had stopped crying, but she was still unresponsive.
“I’m afraid I have no experience with dressing women’s hair. If I give you a hairbrush, will you fix it whichever way you normally do for bed?”
She nodded and took the brush he handed her. With a few swift strokes, she tamed the curls and quickly braided the length into one long rope.
“Is there a ribbon?” The first words she’d spoken since he’d taken her from the bathtub, her voice was thick from crying. He fumbled through the clothing again and came up with a blue ribbon that he handed her.
Once she was finished, he pulled down the cover on the bed, and she climbed in, rolling to her side, facing away from him. It was no wonder she was experiencing such an emotional collapse. His guilt weighed heavily on his mind and heart.
Before he said a word to her, there was a knock on the door. A young man, most likely son to the innkeeper, stood with a tray of food. “Your dinner, sir.”
“Thank you.” He waved to a table near the bed. “Just put it there.”
The young man nodded, placed the tray on the table, and left the room. The scent of the food had his stomach rumbling, and even though he was anxious to have his say, he thought it best if they ate before they talked.
“Sweeting, I think you should eat something.”
When she didn’t respond for a full minute, he thought perhaps she had fallen asleep. He moved to touch her shoulder just as she rolled to her back. “Yes, I am hungry.”
Relief swamped him at her response. He had visions of taking her to a hospital where they routinely locked up women suffering from hysteria.
Charlotte swung her legs over the edge of the bed and eyed the roasted duck, creamed potatoes, bread, cheese, and bowl of vegetables with relish. He would prefer her railing at him, cursing and storming about, rather than this subdued woman.
They ate the meal in silence, and his mind eased as Charlotte ate with gusto. However, he was not fool enough to think that she had forgiven him.
In fact, he had all intentions of doing an immense amount of groveling once their bellies were full.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Charlotte wiped her mouth with the napkin and gave a deep sigh. Between the relief of being out of jail and a warm bath, clean clothes, and a real meal, all she wanted to do was crawl under the covers and sleep for days. But she would not. She had a lot to say, and Mr. Baker would not be happy to hear it.
He placed his coffee cup in the saucer and wiped his mouth. “Uh oh, I don’t care for the look in your eye.”
“Before I start, I want you to know I appreciate you doing whatever it was you did to get the charges dropped and me out of jail.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “That is the last nice thing you will hear from me.”
Elliot hopped up and shoved his fingers into his hair, fisting his hand as if attempting to yank himself bald. “There are simply no words to tell you how very sorry I am for what I did, or rather, what I did not do.”
She snorted.
“No matter how many different words of apology run through my mind, nothing can possibly convey the anger, disappointment, or the guilt that I feel for the way I treated you.”
She turned her head, her arms still crossed, her body stiff with anger. Everything she had intended to say once they had left the jail had dissipated with her tears. Although her weeping had been cathartic after weeks of anxiety due to the bizarre packages, the close brush with death at Miss Garvey’s hands, her arrest, Lord Barton, the time in the jail, but mostly, Elliot’s betrayal, there remained one thing she still needed to say. She turned back and looked him straight in the eye.
“You broke my heart.” Her eyes welled up again, and she realized she was simply not ready to go forward with their relationship.
His stricken look brought some satisfaction, but her hurt was too deep, and too raw, to think it would be washed away with an apology and a few humbling words.
“I know I broke your heart.” He shook his head and raised his arms. “If you give me the chance, I will spend the rest of my life proving my love to you.”
“I’m afraid I simply cannot do that.” She stood and walked away from the makeshift table. She needed to put space between them.
Thankfully, he kept his distance. “I will never, ever doubt you again.”
“Until the next time.”
“There will be no next time. I love you, I trust you, and I will defend you until the day I die.”
“I wish I could believe you, but I have found placing my trust—and in the case of marriage, my very life—in a man’s hands does not bode well for me.”
She rubbed her forehead with her thumb and index finger. Relief at her release, and decent food had made her extremely fatigued. “I would like to sleep now.”
He nodded. “As you wish.” He glanced around the room. “I will sleep in the chair.”
“Yes, you will.” She climbed into the bed, rolled toward the wall so she would not have to look at him, and fell into instant slumber.
…
The next morning, Elliot groaned as he awakened stiff as a board. At first, he couldn’t understand why he was curled up in a chair. Then it all came back to him. Charlotte’s release from jail. Her refusal to accept his apology.
They would take the train bac
k to London today, and he fully intended to take whatever measures he needed to convince Charlotte that his heart and loyalty were true.
He eased up, rotating his neck and working his stiffened shoulders. He was getting too old to be sleeping in chairs. A glance across the room told him Charlotte was still asleep. He studied her for a minute, moving closer to the bed.
All the agony and pain he’d seen on her face the day before had been wiped clean in slumber. She looked about ten years younger, her cheeks a soft red from sleep. Her lengthy eyelashes rested on her cheeks, the furrow in her brow erased. Soft golden curls had escaped from her braid, to surround her face like a halo.
God, he loved her so much. If he couldn’t convince her to allow him back into her life, he would never recover.
As he watched her, her lashes fluttered and then opened. She gave him a warm smile, then scowled.
“I’d much rather see that smile again.”
She shifted on the bed, sitting up against the headboard, hugging the blanket to her. “What time will we leave for London?”
“There is a train at ten this morning.”
She nodded, and he took the chance to sit on the bed next to her. He reached out and tucked one of those tempting curls behind her ear. “Did you sleep well?”
“Better than I did at the jail.”
He hung his head and took her hands in his. The thought of her in that jail cut him to the quick. “Charlotte, I am so very, very sorry for what I did. Or, did not do. Believe me when I tell you I love you. I will never betray you again. If it takes the rest of my life, I swear you will one day believe me.”
He raised her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Give me another chance. Please?”
She pulled her hand from his. “I would like breakfast before we leave.”
He dipped his head. “As you wish.” He would not badger her. He understood her need to come to grips with what had happened to her, and how he had let her down.
“I will go downstairs and order breakfast sent up, which will give you time to prepare for the trip back.” He walked to the bowl of water on the dresser and gave himself a quick wash, cleaned his teeth, combed his hair, and left the room.
…
Charlotte threw the covers off and stepped onto the soft carpet that covered the wooden floor. Her mind had been in a whirl since she’d awakened and found Elliot standing there, staring at her.
Oh, how she wished she no longer loved him. It would be so easy to just deny her feelings, and tell him there would be no more chances. But deep down, she knew letting him go would be the worse decision of her life.
Elliot arrived back at the room at the same time their breakfast was brought in by the innkeeper’s wife. Once everything was placed onto the small table, the woman dipped a slight curtsy and left them alone.
“This looks good.” Elliot walked toward the table and drew back a chair. “Will you join me?”
Avoiding his eyes, she moved to the table and took the chair he held out. “Yes, it does look good.”
She doubted she would ever again take decent food for granted. Suddenly ravenous, she placed eggs, bacon, toast, creamed trout, and a spoonful of eel aspic on her plate. Elliot poured them both tea, and then he filled his plate.
They ate in silence, but there was no awkwardness between them. She glanced occasionally in his direction, but their eyes never met. This could be her life if she found it in her shattered heart to forgive him.
Or she could return to the one she had been quite happy with before she’d entered Elliot’s office and asked for his help. Would she find that existence happy once again?
Not likely. She loved the blasted man and still wanted a future with him.
He wiped his mouth on a napkin and placed it on the table. “We have about two hours before we leave for the train.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I want to say something.”
Charlotte placed her hands in her lap and watched him. He walked in circles for a few minutes, then turned toward her. “Charlotte…”
He shook his head, and propping his hands on his hips, looked away. When he turned back, she was stunned to see tears in his eyes. “I will do anything, absolutely anything to return us to the way we were before I abandoned you.”
She closed her eyes, her heart pounding. She told herself she should say, “no” and prepare for her return to London, but her mouth was apparently not connected to her brain. “I want to do that as well. But I’m not sure…”
Dropping to his knees, he took her hands and squeezed. “Please give me another chance.”
She looked away, and studied the wall as if a most interesting painting hung there. She took a deep breath, and looked back at him. “Yes, I—I will give you another chance.” The whispered words escaped her lips before she could stop them.
…
Elliot’s heart stuttered, sure his ears had betrayed him. “Did you say yes?” He held his breath as he waited for her response.
A lone tear tracked down her cheek. “I said yes, which makes me the biggest fool ever.”
He climbed up off his knees and pulled her up, still not sure about taking her into his arms, which is what he wanted to do more than anything. She appeared skittish, and not at all sure she wanted anything to do with him, despite her words.
“No, it doesn’t make you a fool, my love. It makes me even more ashamed of myself, and certain that you are the finest woman in all of England. And I love you.”
Nervous at venturing into unknown territory, he placed his arm on her shoulder, and when she didn’t push him off, he pulled her against his chest. “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
She looked up, her blue eyes shimmering with tears. The sight almost brought him to his knees, and convinced him how very lucky he was to have found such a perfect woman. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart. It will only get better from here. I promise.”
“I doubt it could get worse.” Her slight smile warmed him, and all the tension eased from his body.
He lowered his head and joined his lips with hers, gently, tenderly, not with lust—although that was certainly there—but showing her how much she meant to him.
“Make love to me, Elliot. I need to feel warm again. I am so cold.” Her murmured request did not need to be repeated.
Elliot pulled her toward the bed, and within minutes, all their clothes sat in a pile on the floor, and they were in bed. He drew in a deep breath as he sat back and admired her. “You are so beautiful.” As if he was touching the finest porcelain glass, he ran his hands over her curves, noticing how lean she had grown.
He slid them both down until they were lying on their sides, facing each other. The warmth of her body, the floral scent from her skin, and the feel of her flesh under his hands urged him to bring to a hasty conclusion his attempt to love her slowly and tenderly.
Although the ancient male urge to possess his mate, to mark her as his, was strong, he drew back, wanting this experience to be about her pleasure, and make her understand through his touch, how very much she meant to him.
His lips pressed against her temple, his warm breath bathing her skin. “This time is all about you, and your pleasure. I want to make you come apart in my arms, cry out at your release. I want to love you as you’ve never been loved before.”
…
Charlotte closed her eyes at Elliot’s words, as he began an exploration of her body. His large hands wandered over her dips and curves, kneading her flesh, touching her gently. She needed this desperately. Although she had tried to hang onto her anger and pain, his honest apology, and his work to get her out of jail and the charges dropped proved his belief in her, even though at first, he had turned his back.
She ran her palms over his warm chest, inching up to his solid jaw, where her fingertips scraped against the stubble of his beard. Wrapping her hand around his head, she pulled him down and kissed him with a fervor that told him she was ready for more than just tender touches. She released his mo
uth and sighed. “I want you, Elliot. I need to feel you inside me.”
“Hush, love. Let me see to your pleasure first.” He moved his hand over her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple until she moaned at the exquisite feelings running through her. His hand moved farther down to explore the warmth at her center, circling her moist folds with his fingers. The scent of her arousal filled the air.
Not wishing to just lie there and feel, she grasped his cock, smiling when he groaned.
“Yes, sweetheart, just like that.” The tension in his voice made her smile.
She brought her lips to his and spoke into his mouth. “Now, Elliot. Now.”
Not needing any further invitation, he rolled on top of her and spread her legs with his knee. He rested his upper body on his elbows as she framed his hips with her legs. “Love me, Elliot.”
With one thrust he was inside her. She sucked in a breath at the fullness. She’d forgotten how wonderful it felt to be so filled. To be so loved.
He pulled almost all the way out, and she moved her hips up to re-capture him, right before he drove himself back into her. “Yes.”
They began the ancient dance of lovers slowly, until the only sound in the room was their combined panting, and murmurs of love and pleasure. Elliot picked up speed, and Charlotte met him thrust for thrust. The tension in her body spiraled, leaving her grasping for the heavenly place her body was taking her. She called his name as the world came crashing down, and she rode a wave of pleasure like she’d never felt before.
Within seconds, Elliot gave one final thrust and shouted his release.
It took a while for Charlotte to come back into herself. Elliot lay sprawled over her, both of them gasping for air. He picked his head up and kissed her lightly, then rolled off her. With the dampness of their skin, it only took a few minutes for her to feel chilled.
Elliot reached down and pulled the quilt over them, pulling Charlotte against his side. “There is only one more thing to say.”
She turned her head and looked at him. “And what is that, Mr. Baker?”
The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth Page 29