One Week to Wed

by Laurie Benson

  ‘Neither do I. But those people were unarmed. You were unarmed...except for the knife in your boot.’

  There was a watchfulness about her that told him she knew that knife was just the beginning of the secrets he held. Damn! She knew something.

  ‘Where are my trousers?’

  ‘They were laundered and have yet to dry. One of the footmen was kind enough to offer you a pair of his breeches for now. Would you like me to get them?’

  ‘Yes, please. I need to get out of bed and stretch. It will help with the long ride back to London if I move now.’

  There was a slight hesitation before she reached behind her and handed him the breeches from somewhere at the foot of the bed. She helped him into them since his right arm was still sore. They were a bit snug, but they would do for now. As they sat beside one another on her bed, he could see their faint reflections in the darkened windowpanes.

  She looked down towards her lap. ‘I wish you wouldn’t leave.’

  His heart stopped at her words. He didn’t want to leave her either, but he knew it was what he had to do—for so many reasons. ‘I cannot stay.’

  It looked as if she wanted to say something, but was unsure how to begin. She picked at the fabric of her dressing gown. ‘You said some things before you passed out.’

  Damn! There were so many things he could have told her. There were so many secrets he had. ‘I drank quite a bit of brandy. I’m sure what you heard were drunken ramblings.’

  She went still and suddenly seemed so sad.

  ‘What did I say, Charlotte?’ He walked to the window and lifted the sash, needing to feel the cool night air and hide his unease.

  ‘Do you... Do you work for the Crown?’

  Andrew spun back around and stared at her. ‘What?’ He prayed he sounded convincing.

  ‘You spoke of a friend who was injured in a knife fight. You said it was done for the Crown. I’ve been thinking about that...and about your reaction to waking up with me the morning after our wedding and the knife I found in your boot today.’ She was studying his reaction.

  He had never been asked that question and was trying to think of what to say.

  ‘Just tell me. There are too many things that make me believe you do. The way you thought Aunt Clara was kidnapping me when she approached you on Bond Street. Your scars. How you knew what to do to address your wound. One does not get a wound like that in a boxing match. All of that tells me there is more to you than you show the world.’

  His head and his heart were both telling him he could trust her, but this was something his own mother didn’t know about him.

  ‘I will never betray your confidence, Andrew. I saved you. Does that mean nothing?’

  It meant everything to him. And telling her the truth, or some part of it, was probably better than any speculation she might make. He knew how important it was to control information.

  ‘Very well, I will tell you some things, but what I say to you now must not leave this room.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He walked closer, standing less than a foot in front of her. ‘Much of my life is lead in secret. I cannot reveal who I work for, just that I do protect the Crown.’

  She looked up, closed her eyes and let out a breath. ‘Thank you for confiding in me. I do not need to know who it is. Jonathan would be gone for months. We never discussed battle plans. I knew he was protecting this country. I didn’t need to know exactly how. I will not pry into your work. I understand there are things you would need to keep from me.’ An expression that resembled hope crossed her face. ‘Is this why you insist we live apart?’

  If she knew all the things he had done, she would beg to live apart. Any caring thought she had about him would be replaced by contempt and fear. Maybe that would be easier on his heart.

  He ran his hand through his hair. ‘There are things about me...things I’ve done... I’ve had to make choices.’ This was the first time he would admit out loud what he had done to his uncle and guilt was spreading through his body like frost on a windowpane. ‘I’ve taken someone’s life. I am the type of man who can kill another.’ He rubbed his hand over his eyes, afraid to see her disgust. Surely now she would not want him to stay.

  ‘Was it done indiscriminately?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was it out of hatred or malice?’

  He shook his head. ‘They were about to kill someone else and I couldn’t let that happen.’

  He looked up and saw compassion in her eyes, as if she understood how much he had struggled with that decision over the years—how standing a few feet away and killing his uncle had changed him. ‘This person was someone I once cared for. I should have thought of another way to stop them. But I didn’t. Instead I stood there and pulled the trigger on my gun.’ The pain and guilt he had carried around with him for years cracked through his voice.

  ‘You did what was necessary to protect someone else. It doesn’t diminish my feelings for you.’

  Her feelings? While he had no doubt she cared about him, she would always want her dead husband and not him. He needed more than that from her and being around her was a painful reminder. ‘Now that you know my secrets, I trust you to keep them after I’ve gone.’

  ‘I still don’t want you to leave. I will not interfere in what you do. If you need to live in London, then we shall live in London. I just want us to live together during the times you are not away out of necessity.’

  ‘We can’t, Charlotte.’

  * * *

  He did not want her. It was crushing Charlotte’s heart. Were his words of love last night just the ramblings of a drunken man? Was it a lie?

  She had no pride left. He meant the world to her. She would tell him how she felt. If he didn’t feel the same, then at least she would know she had done everything she could to save her marriage. She had to try.

  ‘I love you, Andrew.’

  His eyes widened before his brows drew together. ‘I have no doubt you care for me—’

  ‘Care for you? I love you.’

  ‘As one does a friend.’ He took a step back. ‘While our friendship will serve us well in dealing with one another, it is no reason for us to live together.’

  ‘Is that what you truly believe?’

  ‘I can’t live with you.’

  ‘But you love me. You said it last night.’

  He closed his eyes and dropped his head. ‘I was drunk.’

  Her heart was breaking. Did he not love her? He had brought light and life back into her world and reminded her what a strong woman she already was. With him she had found joy again. Had she given him nothing in return? Had her presence had no effect on him at all?

  Tears were filling her eyes. She was the only one who felt happier when they were together than when they were apart. He probably never even thought of her when he was gone.

  ‘Don’t cry, Charlotte. This is what’s best for both of us.’

  She wiped at her eyes and shook her head. This might be what was best for him, but it was not what she wanted.

  ‘I can’t live with you, Charlotte. I can’t live with you knowing every day you wish I were someone else. I can’t live with you knowing you wish that child growing inside you belonged to another man. I can’t do it. I am not that strong. And in the end, you will thank me for it.’ He walked around her and stood by the bed, looking down at the rumpled sheets.

  ‘But I don’t feel that way.’

  ‘I heard what you said to your sister when she came to see you. You saw me and yet you didn’t deny or try to explain those words.’

  ‘Because I didn’t know what to say. My heart hurt for so long that I had stopped listening to it. I never believed I could fall in love again—that a heart was capable of falling in love more than once. But now I know, I love you.’

  He shook his head and looked
away.

  She walked up to his side and gently guided his chin so he was facing her once more.

  ‘And I was afraid. You said you wanted us to live apart. You always have. I was afraid to care for you so deeply when the feeling would not be returned. But I fell in love with you anyway. More than one loves a friend. I love you more than anything. And you not loving me will not change that.’

  He looked down at her abdomen, then up into her eyes. ‘But you will always love Jonathan more. You will always wish that our child was his.’

  ‘It did make me sad that I did not have a child with Jonathan. But this child that I am carrying is yours and you have to believe me when I say I don’t want it to be anyone else’s. I want this part of you. I want you to be this child’s father...to be my child’s father.’ She blinked back the tears. ‘I am sorry that I hurt you. So very sorry. My love for you isn’t any less than the love I had for Jonathan. It is just different. In such a short time, you have brought light into my darkness and all I know is that I am much happier when I am with you than when I am not. And maybe that makes me selfish for wanting this. For wanting you when you do not feel the same way. For that I am sorry. All I know is I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to live without you.’

  He wiped the tears from her cheek. ‘I wanted to hear that you loved me for so long. I thought hearing those words would make things better—now I don’t know if I feel worse. I love you. I do. And hearing you say you love me is something I never thought possible. But I wish I could offer you a stable life. To be able to say I can stop my work for the Crown tomorrow and be the gentleman farmer you deserve after all your loss. I want with all my heart to tell you I can do that, but I can’t. I can’t give up this thing inside me that is a burning need to protect the stability of this country.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to.’

  ‘You’ve already suffered through losing one husband. What if you lost me, too?’

  ‘You don’t think I’m strong enough? You don’t think that if something happened to you I would find a way to go on and raise our child without you? You are sentencing me to that life regardless if you are here or not. I love you. That is not going to change whether you are here beside me or whether you live in London and I am here. We have a choice. We can grab every moment we have with one another and hold on tight for the times we are apart. Or we can live apart as if the other is dead while we are still alive.’

  ‘I saw how Jonathan’s death affected you. You were in mourning for four years when I met you!’

  ‘Clothes! I wore mourning clothes! Is that what you are afraid of? I shall don those weeds should you leave me now for London. I will wear them every day you are gone to mark how my heart breaks for the loss.’

  She fisted her hands at her side. She would not let him go. Not this time. Especially knowing he loved her. He loved her... How could a person move from sorrow to joy in mere minutes?

  ‘I am stronger than you think I am, Andrew. I have a strength inside me the likes of which you have never witnessed, so do not tell me I am not strong enough to survive your death should it come to that! And for good measure, I think I’ll die on you first just for spite!’

  ‘I have no doubt that you would.’ His countenance softened. ‘Come here.’

  She took a step closer and he wrapped her in his arms. Each held on as if they were in need of an anchor in a storm.

  ‘I don’t want you to regret that you ever met me.’ His voice was husky and low, as if it were difficult to speak.

  ‘The only thing I’ll regret is letting you go. Don’t go, Andrew. Don’t leave us.’

  ‘You’re speaking for our child now?’

  ‘He needs you, too.’

  ‘For years I’ve known that one night can change your life for ever. But you have taught me that one night can also change your heart.’

  ‘So, you will stay?’

  ‘If you will have me.’

  Hot tears streamed down her face, and she stepped back to look at him. ‘I have never wanted anything more.’

  Epilogue

  London—November 1819

  Charlotte stood in the sun-filled drawing room of her new London town house, staring at four paintings of horses she had retrieved from Olivia’s house the day before. She wanted to surprise Andrew when he came home from his current assignment in two days. He had been gone for five days and it felt like five weeks.

  Decorating their new home overlooking St James’s Square had proved to be an enjoyable way to pass the time and she wanted to get these paintings that Olivia had purchased for him a year ago hung before he arrived home. The order the four of them should be arranged in was proving troublesome. Should the one with the red jockey go on the top right or bottom left? She took a step back and tilted her head. Lizzy was much better at this than she was. She was the Sommersby sister who possessed a talent for decorating. Charlotte would send a note to her if by evening she still wasn’t satisfied with the arrangement.

  The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor behind her let her know Wells had entered the room with her tea and biscuits. They would help sustain her until she dined at Olivia’s hours from now.

  ‘Thank you, Wells. You may leave them by the sofa,’ she called out, her eyes still on the paintings. She wanted them to be just perfect for him.

  The soft clattering of her cup as Wells lowered the tray to the table was followed by his footsteps approaching her. Andrew’s mother had told her she would call on her this week to see the house. He might be coming to inform her of her arrival. The poor man still appeared a bit flustered when he had any contact with the members of Andrew’s elevated family.

  Just as she was about to turn around, two arms came around her waist, startling her so thoroughly she rammed her right elbow into her assailant’s side. A loud curse filled the air and the arms that were around her dropped away. She spun around, recognising that voice instantly.

  ‘Andrew, you’re home!’ Charlotte threw her arms around the neck of her hunched-over husband who was gripping his side. ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘How foolish of me to assume, coming home to my wife, I’d receive a more welcoming greeting,’ he ground out in pain.

  ‘I thought you were your mother.’

  His brows drew together and he looked at her as if she had lost her mind. ‘You intended to injure my mother?’

  ‘No. No.’ She let out a laugh and covered her mouth. ‘Of course not. I thought you were Wells coming to tell me your mother had come to call, but then you put your arms around me and... Here, let me help you to the sofa.’

  He managed to straighten up and stretched out his side while trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile. ‘I am fine. There’s no need to fuss over me.’

  ‘Perhaps I enjoy fussing over you.’

  ‘Why don’t you offer me a kiss instead?’ He raised his eyes and tried to appear innocent. No matter how hard he tried, Andrew never looked innocent. Maybe because she knew the things he liked to do to her on their bed.

  She took a step closer so they were mere inches apart. ‘You’re certain I will not injure you further?’

  ‘I’m willing to take the chance.’

  Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It was a slow, thoughtful kiss, one that she hoped conveyed just how much she missed him and how happy she was to have him home.

  * * *

  Andrew would never grow tired of kissing his wife. The slow languid kiss they were sharing filled his heart with happiness and was just what he needed to forget the trying days he’d spent trailing a useless lead. He still loved what he did, but he loved coming home to Charlotte even more.

  ‘I missed you,’ she said, placing her forehead against his.

  ‘And I missed you.’ He kissed her again before stepping back to look at her.

  She was glowi
ng, wearing a long-sleeved cinnamon-coloured gown with a bright smile.

  ‘You look beautiful.’

  That blush that he adored so much swept over her cheeks. ‘If I’d known you’d be arriving today, I would have worn a better gown.’

  ‘I like this one. The colour suits you. I would have arrived home earlier today, but I had to stop to get something on Bond Street.’

  ‘You went to Jackson’s before coming here?’ The hurt was evident in her tone.

  ‘Not Jackson’s. I went to shop.’ He walked out and came back in with a large box. ‘Open it.’

  She took it and placed it on the sofa. Her body appeared to be humming with excitement. ‘This is far larger than the last one you brought.’

  When he was away for an extended time, he liked to bring her small gifts when he returned. ‘I wanted you to have this before you left for Kent.’

  Her brow wrinkled and she looked back at the box.

  ‘Open it.’

  She lifted the lid. ‘Oh, Andrew.’ She let out a breath and ran her fingers gingerly over the red velvet before she took the cloak out of the box. Immediately she threw it around her shoulders and pulled up the hood. The ermine-fur trim framed her smiling face. ‘How does it look?’

  ‘You look lovely. Do you like it?’

  ‘How could I not? It is gorgeous.’ She continued to stroke the fur trim that went all around the garment. ‘Juliet will not be getting her hands on this when she is in Kent for Christmas. This I will not share.’

  ‘Your sister agreed to spend Christmas with us?’

  ‘Yes, she has finally agreed to visit us with Aunt Clara, although I honestly have no idea why she was so hesitant to spend the holidays with us. We’ve always spent Christmas together and she does seem to like your family.’

  ‘Most of them anyway,’ Andrew said with a grin. ‘I don’t think she is very fond of Monty, however.’

  ‘Nonsense. She hasn’t been around your brother long enough to form such a poor opinion of him and I’m sure he is not the reason she didn’t want to spend time with us.’

  Andrew wasn’t convinced. ‘Did she ask if he would be there?’