Gentleman of Her Dreams

by Jen Turano

  Henry knew Charlotte belonged with him. Even though she hadn’t quite realized that yet, he wasn’t going to allow her to slip away without a fight.

  He’d been in love with her for years.

  They’d started off as friends—they’d been so young when they met—but then, somehow, through the years, his love for her changed.

  It turned intense and horrible. Horrible because Charlotte didn’t return his affections.

  Oh, she had loved him—there’d never been a question about that—but she’d loved him as a brother or a best friend, and he’d wanted more.

  The year of her debut had been sheer torture for him as he escorted her from one ball to another, forced to watch from the sidelines when gentlemen swooped to her side the moment she stepped foot across the threshold. His only solace in those days had been the single dance she always set aside just for him.

  He’d cherished every step, dreamed of taking the floor with her, until one summer evening when he had arrived at her side for their dance and heard her release a sigh—a sigh that seemed to mean their dance, cherished by him, was a tiresome obligation to her.

  The thought of being an obligation was abhorrent to him, and he realized he couldn’t continue on with the madness of wanting her, not when the feeling wasn’t returned.

  He’d made the decision to leave New York and embarked on an adventure that permitted him to further his knowledge of the family shipping business, while also cementing his belief that his life’s destiny was to travel the high seas as a captain. As he moved from port to port, his longing for Charlotte never abated, and his greatest hope had been that while he was away, Charlotte would finally come to terms with her feelings for him and realize they were meant to be together.

  Charlotte would love traveling around the world. Her appetite for adventure was certainly as great as his, and he’d pictured her by his side often over the past two years, the sea mist tangling her hair even as her eyes sparkled at the mere thought of what waited for them just over the horizon.

  He’d tried to put his travels into his letters, wanting her to experience them even if she wasn’t with him, and he’d treasured the letters she had sent back, poring over them again and again anytime he’d been fortunate enough to dock in England where her letters waited for him.

  It was because of these letters he’d decided to come home.

  Her letters had taken on an almost melancholy air, and he’d thought her melancholy was due to her finally realizing how much she missed his company.

  He’d obviously been reading too much between the lines because Charlotte wasn’t melancholy in the least; in fact, she was downright scary at the moment, with her sense of purpose and her belief God was directing her path toward Mr. Hamilton Beckett.

  He was all for believing God had a hand in a person’s fate, but Charlotte was apparently confusing the message she thought she’d received from above.

  He was meant to be her husband.

  He took a moment to send up a prayer, asking God to set Charlotte straight, and then glanced around, surprised to discover he was almost to Charlotte’s house.

  How was he going to convince her that her thinking was skewered and that she could have the perfect husband if only she’d open her eyes and recognize what was waiting right in front of her?

  She still saw him as somewhat of a brother figure, although . . . maybe that wasn’t quite true anymore. Her eyes had lingered on him the day before, and she’d watched him with a strange expression on her face, as if she wasn’t really sure who he was, and that had to be a step in the right direction.

  He wanted her to see him differently, wanted her to see that he was her match, wanted her to forget they were best friends—no, that wasn’t right. He wanted her to always think of him as her best friend, but he wanted to be the love of her life, and that was going to be the most difficult challenge he’d ever faced.

  He would give her the entire world if it would make her happy, which explained why he was currently driving to her house, unable to refuse the recent message she’d sent him, asking him to call on her.

  She hadn’t bothered to add anything else in her note, which made him rather anxious. Charlotte was tricky at the best of times, and if she’d gotten something else into her head, something that involved a backup plan, he’d have to do his best to discourage her. He certainly wasn’t keen on helping her, not if she wanted him to help her land Mr. Beckett.

  That would be at distinct odds with what he wanted.

  He brought his buggy to a stop in front of the Wilsons’ Park Avenue mansion and jumped to the ground, handing the reins over to a waiting groom.

  “Shall I take your buggy to the livery?” the groom asked.

  Henry bit back a groan. “Am I to assume I’m not going to be in need of it in the near future?”

  The groom smiled. “Miss Wilson has a wagon waiting just over there.”

  Henry swiveled his head and frowned. “Is that a boat on the back of the wagon?”

  “Some might call it a boat,” the groom said. “Miss Wilson came home with that about a month ago. She’s been patching it up.” The groom grinned. “May I say you’re a brave one, sir? It’s not every gentleman who would take the risk.”

  “Risk?” Henry asked warily

  The groom nodded. “I do hope you know how to swim.”

  “Swim?”

  The groom nodded again. “That’s why I told Miss Wilson I couldn’t help her with this particular project. I don’t swim, or I would have gone with her after her brothers, the friends of her brothers, and anyone else she asked balked at the mere thought of taking that contraption out on the water. She’s right hard to say no to, isn’t she?”

  “That she is, although it seems there were many who did,” Henry said before turning and walking up the sidewalk, determined to get to the bottom of what was obviously yet another one of Charlotte’s mad schemes. “Thank you for seeing to my horse,” he called over his shoulder.

  The groom smiled and jumped into the seat, and Henry watched as the horse and buggy cantered away. He then set his sights on the door, shaking his head before he rapped the knocker against the wood.

  She’d always been incorrigible, but instead of growing out of that particular habit, it seemed to be worsening with age, and he could only hope Charlotte hadn’t gotten it into that delightful head of hers to try something dangerous.

  As the groom said, she was difficult to say no to, especially since he was trying to win her favor and win her affections away from Hamilton.

  Mr. Lewis, the Wilson family’s devoted butler, answered the door and ushered Henry inside, sending Henry a look that appeared almost sympathetic.

  “Going to the Hudson Bay, are you?” Mr. Lewis asked.

  It seemed as if there really was some dastardly plan in the works.

  “I’m not quite certain about that,” Henry said slowly.

  “Ah, she neglected to tell you,” Mr. Lewis said. “That explains it.”

  “Am I to understand I’ve been summoned to take her boating?”

  Mr. Lewis winced before he nodded. “She’s been desperate to find someone to accompany her.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Do you know she offered me five dollars to go sailing with her?” He let out a sigh. “I must admit I was briefly tempted, seeing as how she can be somewhat persuasive, but my rheumatism doesn’t do well in the wet. She understood of course. Miss Wilson is a compassionate soul, and it took me a good hour to convince her she hadn’t hurt my feelings by asking me to accompany her, seeing that it brought attention to my ever-increasing fragility.”

  “Henry, how good of you to visit.”

  Henry swung his attention away from Mr. Lewis and smiled when he caught sight of Charlotte’s mother, Mrs. Margaret Wilson. He stepped forward and took her hand, bringing it to his lips before he dropped it and grinned. “You’re looking as wonderful as ever, Mrs. Wilson.”

  Mrs. Wilson beamed. “I see you’ve managed to get q
uite a bit of polish on your extended travels around the world, Henry. I’ve missed you, dear.”

  “I’ve missed you as well, Mrs. Wilson, but I’m not certain I got much polish on my travels. I spent most of my time in derelict ports dealing with unsavory groups of men.”

  Mrs. Wilson took his arm and began directing him down the hallway. “You must tell me all about your adventures. The unsavory men sound completely riveting.”

  “Mother, I’m afraid Henry won’t be able to tell you his stories now,” Charlotte said, coming up behind them. “We’re on a tight schedule.”

  Henry turned and felt his mouth run dry. Charlotte was wearing a gown of blue and white stripes that was nipped in at the waist, showcasing her lovely figure. Her hair was pulled to the top of her head and curls cascaded around her face, while a miniscule little scrap of fabric that he assumed was her hat perched on top of her curls, lending her a rather mischievous air.

  The last thing Charlotte needed was to look more mischievous.

  Before he could extend her a proper greeting, Mrs. Wilson stepped forward and sent her daughter a frown. “Why are you on a tight schedule, and exactly where are you taking poor Henry?”

  Ah, Mrs. Wilson remembered the fact her daughter possessed the habit of pulling Henry, whether willing or not, into schemes that usually landed them in trouble.

  “We’re going sailing on the Hudson Bay,” Charlotte said.

  “You neglected to mention that in your note,” he muttered.

  Mrs. Wilson stiffened for a split second before a somewhat forced smile spread over her face. “I’m going to assume you dock a boat there, Henry.”

  “Actually, no,” Henry returned.

  Mrs. Wilson spun around so fast she almost made him dizzy. “Do not even tell me you’ve talked Henry into taking out that, for want of a better word, boat.”

  “It’s perfectly seaworthy,” Charlotte said, although her tone sounded a tad defensive.

  “If you’re determined to go boating today, Charlotte, we could always take out one of my boats,” Henry said. “I have several at my disposal, and I can guarantee that all of them float.”

  “We have to go to Hudson Bay, and you stated not a moment ago that you don’t dock a boat there,” Charlotte said between lips that were almost completely closed.

  Mrs. Wilson narrowed her eyes and began tapping her toe against the floor. “And why, pray tell, do you have to go boating on Hudson Bay and . . . why are you dressed like that if you’re going boating? Good heavens, Charlotte, if you fell overboard, you’d sink in a split second with that huge bustle.”

  “Which is why I’m not planning on falling overboard,” Charlotte said.

  “You’re avoiding my questions,” Mrs. Wilson said.

  Charlotte let out a huff. “Fine, if you must know, I’ve discovered that Mr. Hamilton Beckett has plans to sail around the bay with his children this morning, and since I’ve decided he’s the most appropriate man for me to marry, I wanted to look my best on the chance I sail into him.”

  Mrs. Wilson’s mouth gaped open. She finally snapped it shut, took a step closer to her daughter, and then began to sputter. “I had . . . had . . . had no idea you’d turned your attention to Mr. Beckett, and I certainly wasn’t aware of the fact the two of you have been seeing each other.”

  “She’s never met the gentleman, Mrs. Wilson,” Henry said.

  Mrs. Wilson closed her eyes and appeared to be counting under her breath. Henry smiled. He’d always enjoyed Mrs. Wilson, enjoyed her no-nonsense approach to life and her no-nonsense approach to her daughter, which, now that he thought about it, could actually work to his advantage.

  He should have remembered Mrs. Wilson could be counted as one of his greatest allies.

  She’d always adored him, always welcomed him into her home, and he’d always thought Mrs. Wilson harbored a secret hope that he and Charlotte would someday marry.

  “Darling, Mr. Beckett is far too old for you, and besides, he has two small children.”

  Henry blinked and realized that while he’d been lost in thought, Mrs. Wilson was providing invaluable advice to Charlotte.

  “I adore children,” Charlotte said.

  “You’ve never been around children for any length of time,” Mrs. Wilson countered.

  Charlotte tilted her head and got the mulish expression on her face that Henry knew far too well. “I see my niece and my nephews at least once a month.”

  Mrs. Wilson crossed her arms over her chest. “Your brothers and their wives have banned you from being alone with their children.”

  Charlotte caught Henry’s eyes and shrugged. “It’s all a complete misunderstanding.”

  “I don’t think encouraging a six-year-old to test out your latest invention could ever be confused as a simple misunderstanding,” Mrs. Wilson said with a sniff.

  “Sophia needs adventure, seeing as how Charles stifles her, and how was I to know the wheels would fall off the miniature bicycle I made for her?”

  “The loss of the wheels caused poor Sophia to run over her father, and that caused Charles to land in a puddle of mud, which resulted in me getting a lecture from him regarding my inability to control you,” Mrs. Wilson said. “And don’t even get me started on what he had to say regarding your ‘special’ bicycle outfit.”

  “Charles has always been too stuffy for his own good,” Charlotte muttered. “Sophia wasn’t harmed and neither was Charles. Personally, I believe Sophia was delighted over the whole affair, which just goes to prove that children adore me.”

  “Because they see you as one of their peers,” Mrs. Wilson said with a roll of her eyes. “I do not mean to offend you, darling, but a gentleman such as Mr. Beckett, while certainly searching for a woman who would make a wonderful mother, will only consider a woman who is sophisticated and somewhat worldly.”

  “I can be sophisticated if I put my mind to it,” Charlotte mumbled.

  Mrs. Wilson arched a brow. “My dear, you know perfectly well that is not true. You’ve been blessed with an unusual spirit and a taste for the peculiar, and unfortunately, most gentlemen are not going to be able to appreciate that in you, including Mr. Beckett. He’s far too somber, and you deserve a kindred spirit. As your mother, it is my duty to encourage you to look in a different direction.” She turned and winked at Henry.

  Now they were getting somewhere.

  “Mother, I know you’re going to find this somewhat odd, but the reason I’ve chosen Mr. Beckett is because I believe he’s been sent to me by God.”

  How was a person supposed to argue with that type of reasoning?

  To Henry’s surprise, Mrs. Wilson nodded. “I’m sure God is directing you, darling, but you know as well as I do that God works in ways we can’t understand. You might have misunderstood, which is something I do often, so I wouldn’t get your heart set on Mr. Beckett just yet. God might have someone else in mind for you.”

  Henry watched as Mrs. Wilson sent him another wink, patted her daughter on the cheek, and strode down the hallway, turning to pause when she reached the other end. “Do try to stay out of trouble, both of you. At your advanced ages, I would hope that shouldn’t be too much to ask.”

  “She doesn’t like Mr. Beckett,” Charlotte said when Mrs. Wilson disappeared.

  “She didn’t say that, Charlotte. She said he wasn’t for you.”

  “He’s the most sought-after gentleman in New York City.”

  “But . . . you don’t know him.”

  Charlotte released a loud sigh. “I know I don’t, but if all goes according to plan, I’ll meet him today.”

  Henry blew out a breath. “Should I even ask what part you want me to play in your little fiasco?”

  “I need you to help me with the boat.”

  “The boat that no one believes is seaworthy?” he asked.

  Charlotte gave an airy wave of her hand. “It’s completely seaworthy. I’ve tested it out.”

  Henry frowned. “Where, pray tell, did you do t
hat?”

  Charlotte nibbled on her lip, the action drawing his attention. She had the most delectable lips, very plump, and he’d often wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

  He shook himself as he realized Charlotte had answered his question, but since he’d been lost in his little daydream, he’d missed all the pertinent parts.

  Should he ask her to repeat her answer?

  No, that would only cause her to realize something was amiss, and he certainly couldn’t allow her to realize that he found her lips all too enticing.

  “So, you’ll do it?”

  “Do what?” he was forced to ask.

  Charlotte released a grunt and tugged her hand out of his. “You’ll help me sail the boat over to Mr. Beckett and then introduce me to him?”

  As far as danger levels went, this was remarkably mild for Charlotte, although he really didn’t want to be the one to introduce her to Mr. Beckett, especially if the introduction resulted in them forming an attachment.

  Uncertain what to say, he finally settled on, “You’ll hardly have an opportunity to become better acquainted with the gentleman simply because we’ve sailed up beside him.”

  “That’s why we’re going to claim we’re taking on water, and it won’t really be a stretch or a lie for that matter, seeing as how my boat does have a very small, yet manageable, leak.”

  She’d lost her mind.

  He drew in a deep breath, slowly released it, found that he was still at a loss for words, and took another breath. “We cannot take a boat out into the Hudson Bay knowing full well it has a leak,” he managed to get out.

  Charlotte turned sulky in a split second. “You said you’d help.”

  “No, I didn’t. You assumed I’d help. I’ve decided not to aid you in this ridiculous plan.”

  There, that should put an end to the madness.

  She couldn’t sail the boat by herself, and since no one else would agree to go out with her, she would simply have to accept that today was not the day she was going to meet Mr. Beckett. Perhaps she would find some solace in the fact B. Altman was still running their sale on shoes.