Lady Charlotte's First Love

by Anna Bradley

  Charlotte opened her mouth, closed it again. How could she tell him now, like this, with his naked body still warm from sleep and his hair tousled like a boy’s? Dear God, she felt like a criminal, as if he’d tried to wrap her in his arms only to find she’d plunged a knife into his chest. Perhaps she should wait, tell him when they were in the carriage on the way to Bellwood—

  “Charlotte.” A quiet command.

  The truth will out. Here, and now.

  She drew a quick, hard breath. “I didn’t tell you everything about what happened at Hadley House, after Hadley died.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “I know that, love, but Lady Chase told me already.”

  Charlotte froze, all except her foolish heart, which leapt into a single beat of wild hope before it plummeted into despair again. Lady Chase couldn’t have told Julian the whole of it, because she didn’t know. No one but the staff at Hadley House knew, not even Ellie and Cam, because Charlotte had never breathed a word of the truth to any of them. Whatever Julian thought he knew, he didn’t know the worst of it.

  If he did, he’d already despise her.

  She twisted her fingers together until her knuckles ached. “What did Lady Chase tell you?”

  “That you stayed with the dowager until she died, despite how difficult it must have been for you, and you were ill for several months before you came to London. Exhaustion, she said.” He took her hand. “Whatever it was it doesn’t matter, Charlotte—”

  “It does matter.” She withdrew her hand, because if he touched her, she’d never be able to force the words out, and it had to be now, before she found another excuse to keep the truth from him forever. “I wasn’t ill, Julian.”

  “What, then? It’s all right, Charlotte. Just say it.”

  “I wasn’t ill. I was…carrying a child, and I—I—”

  Oh God, she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t tell him.

  But of course he knew. He went motionless against the pillows. “You lost the child.”

  “Yes.” She gulped in air to push the rest of the words out. “I lost her, and there was a great deal of blood, and the doctor said I may never be able to—”

  “Don’t say it,” he whispered. “You don’t have to say it.”

  But she did, and now she’d begun she was desperate to get it out, the worst of it, and there was no way to warn him, to make it easier, to make it hurt him less. “The child, Julian. I was carrying her when I married Hadley.”

  For a single moment he looked perplexed, but then in the next breath the truth crashed over him, and she knew the exact moment when he understood, because it was the same moment her heart shriveled in her chest. He would hate her now, he’d blame her, just as she blamed herself—

  “My child? A daughter. Oh, no. Oh, Charlotte, no. No, sweetheart.” He slid his arms around her and his warm palm cupped the back of her head to press her face against his chest. She let him hold her, but her body was taut against his as she waited for the moment—as inevitable as the rise and set of the sun—when he’d push her away.

  She felt it seconds later, the slight stiffening of his arms, a catch of breath in his lungs, and then his hands were on her shoulders, gentle still, but inexorable, pushing her away so he could look into her eyes. “Did you… Did you know you were going to have my child when you married Hadley?”

  She heard the pleading note under the forced calm of his voice, and for one wild moment she nearly denied it, but she couldn’t bear to carry such an awful lie with her for the rest of her life, and she wouldn’t deceive him into carrying it, either. Her eyes closed and she bowed her head. “Yes. I knew.”

  Silence. Julian didn’t move or even appear to breathe, but the air in the room shifted somehow, became thinner, colder. When he spoke at last, it was one quiet word only, but it shattered the silence like a bullet. “Why?”

  Why. Oh, God, so many reasons. She’d been terrified when she found she was with child, and so ashamed—too ashamed to tell her mother or even Ellie the truth. She remembered little from that time except the agony of a tender first love crushed into oblivion, and a blinding fury at Julian, because despite his lie she’d loved him madly still, and his betrayal had shattered her heart into a thousand pieces. Those weeks had blurred together in a kaleidoscope of rage and heartbreak, and by the time she found herself again, it was too late.

  By then she wasn’t Charlotte anymore. She was someone else. A wife. The Marchioness of Hadley. Mistress of Hadley House.

  She struggled to find the right words to make him understand, but when she opened her mouth to give voice to the crushing welter of emotions she’d felt at that time, all that emerged was, “I was afraid.”

  It wasn’t enough. As soon as her words fell into the silence between them, she knew it wasn’t enough.

  “I begged you to see me before you married Hadley, but you wouldn’t talk to me.” Julian’s voice was low and hard. “You sent back all my letters unopened, you refused to see me when I called, and all that time you knew about our child, and you never told me.”

  Charlotte covered her face with her hands. “I was afraid, Julian. I’d just found out you lied to me, and I thought… I didn’t know what to do.”

  Julian didn’t answer. He didn’t say another word, but slid out from under the covers and rose from the bed. She heard him fumbling in the darkness for his clothes, the rustle of cloth as he donned his breeches and shirt, and it was odd, wasn’t it, to hear such normal sounds when her world was falling apart? The ring of his boots across the wooden floor as he walked toward the door, away from her—that sound made more sense in this moment, each of his steps heavy, portentous.

  Final. The way an ending should sound.

  She didn’t want to look at him and see his back turned on her, but as the silence continued to stretch between them her gaze was drawn to the door. Julian’s head was down, his gaze on the floor. “It’s best if we don’t… I can’t …”

  I can’t even look at you anymore.

  He didn’t say it, but he didn’t need to. Charlotte heard the words echo in her head just as if he’d said them aloud. Her heart gave an agonized lurch. She couldn’t bear to see his pain, and she felt her mouth open, heard herself offer him the words he needed, the words that would let him leave her behind. “I’ll make the remainder of the journey to Bellwood alone.”

  “No. I’ll take you the rest of the way. I made a promise to Cam.” He waited, but when she didn’t answer, he opened the door. “I’d appreciate it if we left as soon as possible. If we make an early start, I can be in London by this evening.”

  “Yes, of course.” Charlotte’s voice was faint. “I can be ready in half an hour. I’ll meet you in the carriage, if that’s acceptable.”

  “Half an hour, but I won’t ride in the carriage. I’ll travel the rest of the way on horseback.”

  Before she could reply he slipped into the hallway and closed the door behind him, taking all her hope with him. Charlotte clenched her hands into fists, suddenly furious with herself, because a part of her had thought—what? That he’d gather her into his lap and cradle her head on his shoulder for the remainder of their journey? No. She’d never again feel his lips on hers, his arms around her, his hands buried in her hair, and the sooner she accepted it the better. Before the year was out he’d be betrothed, and she…

  She wouldn’t stand in his way. He had a chance at redemption, and no one knew better than she how precious that was. To wish for him to turn his back on Jane Hibbert would be to wish he wasn’t Julian, and that—that she could never wish for.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. No more tears. She’d cried enough tears to last a lifetime.

  If she’d found Julian at last only to lose him again, well, life was made up of such moments, wasn’t it? Such heartbreaking ironies. Not just her life, either—anyone who’d ever loved had suffered. She mustn’t look on th
is as another punishment. She’d had one final night with him, and that was a gift. It was more than she expected, and more than she des—

  Deserved. More than she deserved.

  She stared down at her clenched fists. Hadley’s foolish trick on that horse—he’d died, damn him, and left her with nothing but a heart full of regrets—but she’d forgiven him for it. She’d forgiven his mother, too, though the dowager’s mad rages had left her with wounds that still bled.

  But never, in all this time and amidst all this forgiveness, had she ever tried to forgive herself. She wouldn’t wish her bitterest enemy to suffer the agonies she’d endured these past months, and yet somehow she believed she deserved it all.

  Deserved to lose her child.

  Despite her promise to herself tears rushed to her eyes, and they were bitterer than any tears she’d ever cried, because these tears were for Julian, for all he’d lost. A child, gone before he even knew he had anything to lose.

  Her breath caught on a sob. He didn’t deserve to lose his child.

  And neither did she. No one did.

  If she could only believe that, if she could somehow find the faith and the strength to believe she didn’t deserve the one thing in her life that nearly broke her, then surely, surely she could believe…

  She didn’t deserve any of it. If she could believe that, perhaps, just perhaps she might find a way to believe in herself again.

  * * * *

  If the first three days on the road from Hampshire to Kent felt interminable, the last leg of the journey passed in the blink of an eye. Before she knew it, the carriage had turned into the long drive that led to the front entrance of Bellwood.

  The silvery ash trees arched toward each other from either side of the drive, one crown of spear-shaped pale green leaves indistinguishable from the next. Charlotte leaned her head against the window, just as she had done when she was a child, and watched the carriage pass under their sheltering arms. Those trees had stood guard over the drive for as long as she could remember, and like all of Bellwood, they never changed.

  Home never did, did it? When one thought of home, they saw it with a child’s eyes, and it lived as such in their memories, forever the same. Every time she came home it was like walking through a dream into the past.

  But the people—they changed. She’d changed.

  A sad smile crossed her face as she conjured an image of herself as a child—a regular hoyden, with wild black curls, dirty frocks, and ripped stockings. Oh, Ellie was forever scolding her when they were young, plucking her out of one scrape after another, and hiding Charlotte’s many transgressions from their father.

  The carriage came to a halt in the circular drive in front of the house. They’d arrived much earlier than expected, but Ellie must have stationed a servant to watch for them, for there she was, standing in the drive, Cam’s arm around her shoulder. Waiting.

  Charlotte’s heart swelled with gratitude. Oh, Ellie. Always waiting, always ready, her arms open and stretched toward Charlotte, ready to catch her when she fell.

  Perhaps people didn’t change as much as she thought.

  And now, at last, she was ready to let her sister catch her. “Ellie.” Charlotte didn’t wait for the coachman, but wrestled the door open herself and stumbled onto the drive. “Ellie.”

  Something in that one word told Ellie all she needed to know, and the pinched lines of her face relaxed at once. “Oh, Charlotte,” she murmured as she came forward to close her sister in her arms. “Oh, thank God.”

  Charlotte let her head fall onto Ellie’s shoulder and thought how lovely it was, just for a moment, to feel like a child again.

  After a while, Cam cleared his throat. “Charlotte.”

  She disentangled herself from Ellie’s embrace and Cam gave her a fierce hug. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “It’s all right now,” she whispered, and gave his hand a hard squeeze. “Thank you, Cam.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Thank Julian. He’s the one who brought you home at last.”

  Charlotte looked over Cam’s shoulder. Julian had dismounted and now he stood silently beside his horse, one hand on the reins still, his face turned away, and in an instant everything else around her faded until there was only him, the sun limning his profile and the breeze tugging with playful fingers at his dark hair.

  He must have felt her gaze on him because suddenly he raised his head and their eyes locked, and she’d never forget how lost, how desolate he looked in that moment. Everything inside her squeezed tight, and oh, she yearned for him then—yearned to brush his hair back from his face, to take away the hurt in his eyes so when she looked into those depths she saw not only the darkness, but the light.

  He went stiff as she came toward him across the drive, and stiffer still when she took his hand, but she wouldn’t let him pull away. He didn’t want to speak to her, didn’t want her touch, but maybe someday he’d understand she couldn’t leave it this way between them. They’d both spent too much time living with regret.

  Afterward she didn’t remember what she’d meant to say to him. Perhaps she wanted to thank him, or beg for his forgiveness, but in the end she simply said what was in her heart. “You’ll always be a hero to me.”

  She didn’t give him a chance to reply, but only pressed his hand briefly between hers and then ran back to her sister before he could see the tears gathering in her eyes.

  But Ellie saw them and she rushed forward, wrapped an arm around Charlotte’s shoulder, and led her up the walkway toward the house. “What did you say to Julian, Charlotte?”

  I told him I was sorry. I told him I loved him. “I said good-bye.”

  Ellie’s brows drew down in a puzzled frown. “Good-bye? What, you mean he’s not staying at Bellwood, even for a few days?”

  “No.” Charlotte glanced back out to the drive just in time to see Julian mount his horse. Cam said something to him, but Julian shook his head. “He’s going on to London at once to see his betrothed.”

  “I thought…that is, I’d hoped…” Ellie fell silent.

  Charlotte took her sister’s hand. “I have so much to tell you, Ellie.”

  Ellie searched her face, nodded, and led her toward the stairs.

  Charlotte didn’t want to look back and see the empty space where Julian had been, but even as she promised herself she wouldn’t, her gaze was drawn toward the drive.

  Julian was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “For God’s sakes, Jules. Why the infernal rush? If I didn’t know better, I’d think the Bow Street runners were after you. At least stay for luncheon.”

  Cam’s voice was light, but he kept a firm grip on the horse’s reins, and Julian could feel his cousin’s penetrating green eyes on his face, assessing him, peeling back his layers.

  “Sorry, cuz.” Julian tried to match Cam’s light tone and failed. “My betrothed is waiting for me in London. Remember?”

  “Ah, yes. That. But surely this young lady would rather you didn’t collapse from hunger and fatigue on her doorstep. It’s another half day’s ride to London.”

  “I’m cavalry. We’re used to long rides.”

  “Jules.” Cam’s voice was soft.

  Julian stared straight ahead. “I said I’d bring Charlotte to Bellwood, Cam, and I have. I never promised anything beyond that.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Cam agreed. “You’ve fulfilled your promise. The one you made to me, that is.”

  Julian let out a harsh laugh. “You think I made a promise to Charlotte? I assure you I didn’t. I told her just this morning I’d take her as far as Bellwood, and that’s all.”

  And last night you told her you’d never let her go. Hadn’t that been a promise?

  “I’m speaking of the promise you made to yourself, Julian. Before you left for Hampshire, you told me you wanted to be a man of
your word.”

  Julian blew out an irritated breath. “I suppose you’re saying I’m not.”

  Cam was never one to mince words. “Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Jesus, Cam.” Hot anger rushed over Julian. “What do you want from me? I kept my promise to you, and I haven’t lied—”

  “You have lied. You’re lying right now by charging off to London to marry a woman you don’t love, and leaving behind the one you do.”

  Julian jerked on the reins to loosen Cam’s hold. “You’ll have to forgive me for not delivering the happy ending you asked for, cuz, but there’s another story between me and Charlotte—one you don’t know about—and it’s no fairy tale.”

  “I’ve never known a true love that was. You love Charlotte—you have since the first moment you laid eyes on her. What else is there?”

  Julian couldn’t bear to look into Cam’s knowing green eyes. “What else? Lies, Cam. Betrayals. Distrust. Love doesn’t matter.”

  “It’s the only thing that matters, Jules. The rest? That’s what forgiveness is for. Whatever it is, find a way to forgive Charlotte. Not just for her sake, but for yours.”

  Forgiveness—so easy, like snapping his fingers. Maybe it had been that easy for Cam and Ellie, but Julian had no forgiveness to offer anymore. This morning, when Charlotte told him the truth about his child, the dark thing with claws and teeth that lived inside him had leapt from his chest. That blackness, that anger and pain—he’d never be able to crawl free of it.

  “Maybe I could have forgiven her once, but I can’t now.” Julian took in a deep breath and met his cousin’s eyes. “I’m not the man I used to be, Cam. Something inside me, it’s…broken.”

  Cam’s gaze turned fierce. “Bent perhaps, but not broken. Dig down under the rubble, Julian, and you’ll find you’re the same man you’ve always been.”