by Wolf, Bree
Charlaine’s gaze widened. “Pardon me? Why would you do that?”
“Because she needs a friend,” Nathanial replied with a soft smile. “As did I. Her father is pressuring her to marry according to his wishes, and she is all alone.” He sighed. “I suppose I should have seen her turmoil when we were engaged. But I didn’t.”
Releasing his arm, Charlaine moved a few steps away, her head slightly bowed. Then she turned around, her gaze rising to meet his. “So, you want to be her friend.”
Nathanial nodded, slightly confused by her tempered response. He had thought she would most enthusiastically encourage his intention to offer his help to Abigail. “I do,” he replied, wondering if she was merely testing his resolve. “We’ve spoken a lot this past month and…and gotten to know each other beyond the past we share.” He chuckled. “I must admit that there are sides to her I have never seen before. In fact, she often reminds me of you.”
“Me?” Charlaine’s face seemed oddly pale as she once more wrapped her arms around herself.
Nathanial frowned. “Are you all right? Perhaps we should go inside. It is rather cold today.”
“Perhaps we should,” she mumbled and strode past him, hurrying down toward the house as though she could no longer bear his presence.
Heaving a deep breath, Nathanial followed her, wondering what it was that had upset her. To his great dismay, it seemed that the brutal honesty they had once promised each other had been lost. Of course, he, too, was to blame for the half-truths and white lies that now lingered in the air between them.
Was there any way to remedy what had torn them apart?
Chapter Forty-Three
A Most Inconvenient Guest
After supper, Charlaine retreated to the library, her thoughts hopelessly jumbled.
While her heart rejoiced, the breath lodging in her throat whenever Nathanial’s gaze met her own, her mind knew not what to make of his return. Hope and fear warred within her, and Charlaine felt utterly overwhelmed by these odd emotions.
Never had she been one to shy away from confrontations. Never had she been one to hide and not speak her mind. Never had she felt torn in such a profound way.
“Are you all right?” came Nathanial’s voice from the door.
Charlaine tensed, torn between maintaining an outward appearance of friendly delight and the overwhelming desire to throw herself into his arms. How on earth had all this happened? Merely a few weeks ago, Nathanial had been her friend and nothing more. Life had been simpler then.
“I’m fine,” she told him with a small smile she hoped looked more convincing than it felt. “Only a bit tired. It’s been a long day.” As he closed the door, Charlaine turned back to the window, her gaze drawn to the green hills slowly being swallowed up by the encroaching dark.
His footsteps echoed closer, and Charlaine felt a small shiver dance down her back as he approached. Her hands began to tremble, and she knew not what to do about it. “How long do you plan to stay?” The words left her lips in a rush, something to say, something to fill the silence.
Coming to stand beside her, Nathanial gazed out at the darkening world. “Well, that depends.”
“On what?” Charlaine asked, trying to ignore the way her chest rose and fell with each tense breath. She could no longer deny that the threat of his renewed departure made her feel ill. Still, how were they supposed to continue if he were to stay? Clearly, the ease that had once existed between them was all but lost. Were they even still friends? Could one call it that?
Nathanial heaved a deep sigh, then turned to look at her. “Would you mind if I invited Abigail to join us here?”
Charlaine felt a chilling cold seep into her bones.
“She is all alone at Pembroke Hall,” Nathanial continued, a warm glow coming to his eyes as he looked at her. “I do believe she could do with a bit of a distraction, someone to speak to, someone to inspire her.” His smile deepened. After a moment of hesitation, Nathanial reached for her hand. “Who better to inspire her than you?”
Charlaine tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “Me?” she all but croaked. The touch of Nathanial’s hands upon hers stole her breath, and yet, his words chilled her heart. How could he not see that the thought of Abigail hurt her?
Of course, he had called Abigail a friend. He had insisted that she had been his fiancée, but was no longer. Still, that did not mean he did not hope for more. For a reunion. Was that why he had offered to be Abigail’s friend? In the hopes of reclaiming her heart?
“You truly care for her, do you not?” Charlaine asked, her eyes searching his face, not certain what answer she was hoping for. Nathanial was a good man—always had been—and Charlaine loved him for it. Still…
Smiling at her, Nathanial nodded. “I’ve known her almost all my life.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I cannot recall a time without her, and yet, I feel as though I met a completely new person when she came to Pembroke Hall.” He frowned. “It is strange how people can suddenly seem different or how one suddenly sees them in a different light.” His gaze sobered, lingered on hers and he drew in a slow breath, his hands still holding on to hers. “Do you mind?”
Charlaine swallowed, then forced a smile onto her face. “Of course not.” How could she refuse such a request? After all, she had been the one to teach him about the meaning of friendship. Was that not what he had said? He wanted to be there for Abigail in her time of need as she, Charlaine, had been there for him. She could not fault him for that.
She could not say no.
And so a few days later, Charlaine found herself standing beside Nathanial on the front steps as they watched a carriage make its way up the gravel drive toward Markham Hall. The winds blew fiercely, tossing leaves about and rustling through the trees. The skies hung full of dark clouds, blocking out the sun, a matching echo of the misery that lived in Charlaine’s heart.
“Her father is not objecting to her staying in England?” Charlaine asked as they waited, the carriage moving closer with each tense breath to leave her lips.
Nathanial turned to look at her. “I assume he will not be pleased,” he admitted, a slight frown coming to his face. “I admit I had not considered it.” He sighed. “We shall see.” Then he moved forward to open the door as the carriage pulled to a halt, eagerness in his step.
Charlaine inhaled a deep breath as she watched a golden-haired, young woman emerge from the carriage, her wide, blue eyes lighting up with joy as she beheld Nathanial. Then she flung herself into his arms. “Oh, I’ve missed you!” she whispered loud enough for Charlaine to hear.
It felt like a knife plunged into Charlaine’s heart, and she had to fight to keep tears from pooling in her eyes. How on earth had this happened? When had Nathanial, her dear and trusted friend, become the one man she could not live without? The one man she wanted to claim for herself?
Pulling Abigail’s arm through his own, Nathanial guided her up the steps. “Charlaine, this is Abigail.” He smiled at her in that utterly endearing way of his. “Abigail, this is Charlaine.” He chuckled. “Considering the informality favored by everyone in this household, I assume you don’t mind first names.”
Once again forcing a smile onto her face, Charlaine shook her head. “Of course not.” Then she turned to Abigail. “Welcome to England and to Markham Hall.”
Abigail returned her smile, her gaze briefly darting to Nathanial. “Thank you so much for inviting me here.” Her bright blue eyes shone with honest emotions and her lips curled up into a warm smile as she took a step toward Charlaine. “Nathanial has told me all about you, what a dear friend you have been for him, and I’m most grateful for what you’ve done for him and are willing to do for me.” A long sigh, liberating and deeply felt, left Abigail’s lips. “I never knew people like you could truly exist, so good and selfless, so giving and kind.” She grasped Charlaine’s hand. “Please, if there is ever anything I can do for you, do tell me.”
Charlaine stared at the other woman, tryi
ng hard to swallow the lump in her throat for the warmth in Abigail’s gaze caught her off guard. There was nothing pretentious or false lurking behind those wide, blue eyes, and the joy that shone on the other woman’s face looked sincere.
Utterly and truly sincere.
Deep down, Charlaine had expected to meet someone cold and calculated. Someone who had accepted Nathanial’s proposal and then broken his heart on a whim. Someone who was first and foremost concerned with her own desires and wishes. Someone who did not care for others in a deep and meaningful way.
Abigail, however, was not such a person, Charlaine had to admit to her utter dismay. The young woman had made a mistake, yes, but she had not done so out of malice. She had acted hastily out of fear, but had come to regret her actions and now sought to make amends.
Now, Charlaine understood how Nathanial could have forgiven her so easily for she, too, could not bring herself to look at Abigail with hatred in her heart. Indeed, it was worse than Charlaine had expected for if it were not for Nathanial, Abigail could have become a dear friend.
Overwhelmed, Charlaine stammered a reply, then turned to Nathanial. “Why don’t you show her inside? I shall…I shall follow shortly.”
A quick frown danced across Nathanial’s forehead and his gaze narrowed as he looked at her, no doubt noting that something was wrong, that she was overcome by a most powerful emotion. Fortunately, he did not press her for an explanation, but merely nodded his head to her before offering Abigail his arm.
As Nathanial escorted Abigail inside, Charlaine remained behind, staring after them. Her heart ached with such misery that she felt her knees begin to tremble, all strength leaving her body as the reality of her situation flooded her being.
Nathanial was lost to her. Truly and utterly lost for it would only be a matter of time before Abigail would reclaim his heart.
“Are you all right?”
Flinching at the voice beside her, Charlaine spun around and almost lost her balance, her eyes going wide as she found herself staring at Lord Ashhaven, who had all but materialized out of thin air. “My lord?” Charlaine panted, her heart hammering in her chest. “Where did you come from?”
His dark gaze narrowed ever so slightly, the expression upon his face betraying no clear emotion. Still, there was something deeply stirring in the way he seemed to observe every small twitch and quiver in her expression and posture.
Blinking, Charlaine noted his travel-worn clothes and dusty boots before her gaze moved sideways to where one of the stable boys, Henry, was leading Lord Ashhaven’s panting mount toward the stables. Indeed, she had not even heard his approach.
“Are you all right?” he asked yet again as his gaze swept over her before it moved beyond her shoulder to where Nathanial and Abigail had disappeared. Was there concern lurking somewhere beneath that calm exterior of his? Charlaine could not tell.
“Are you here to see Pierce?” she asked instead of answering his question for she did not know how.
Lord Ashhaven inhaled a slow breath, his gaze lingering on her face a moment longer. Then he nodded. “I am. We have…urgent matters to discuss.” For a split second, a hint of anger sparked in his gaze, but vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Charlaine recalled the events of the night Caroline and Pierce had gotten engaged. While Lord Ashhaven had arrested Lord Coleridge for the murder of Daphne’s parents, others had merely been implicated. From what Pierce had said, Charlaine knew that Lord Ashhaven had continued his investigations.
He made to enter the house, but then paused. “Will you be all right?”
Charlaine nodded and, with a last glance, he rushed away.
If only it were true.
Chapter Forty-Four
A Most Telling Kiss
Standing on the terrace, Nathanial watched as Abigail made her way down the small slope into the gardens where Charlaine was walking. The sky still hung with large, gray clouds, the threat of rain looming overhead, as the wind moved them onward like ships drifting down a river. Autumn lingered in everything around them, the season of change.
Where once the sun had shone on a clear, summer’s day, warm and comforting, now the world seemed lost in gray clouds, chilling and unsettling. Greens turned to orange, red and brown, warm colors in a cold world. The scent of rain lingered in the air, and the winds that blew in from the north, whispered of the approaching winter.
Abigail pulled her cloak tighter around herself as she approached Charlaine, curls of her blond hair pulled from her hood, a stark contrast to Charlaine’s darker tones.
Seeing them side by side, Nathanial wondered at the differences in their appearance, especially now that he had come to see how similar in character they were. Both were vivacious creatures, longing for adventure and love. Both possessed a kind heart and a daring spirit. Both had suffered, but had come out stronger for it.
Still, Nathanial could not deny that it was Charlaine who drew his gaze. That it was her dark brown eyes that stirred his heart. That it was her teasing, but utterly enchanting smile that made his knees grow weak.
Abigail was beautiful, and Nathanial sincerely hoped that the day would come that she would be his friend once again in every sense of the word.
Charlaine, however, was…the one.
Sighing, Nathanial hung his head, wondering why the world could not be simple for once. Was he forever doomed to lose his heart to women who did not love him in return? No matter what Abigail had told him, Nathanial did not believe that her love for him had been true, all-consuming, unbreakable; that it had only been the harshness of their circumstances that had stolen her from his side.
Soft footsteps reached him from behind, and Nathanial turned to find Daphne standing there, her large, brown eyes moving from the women down below to him. “Will you not ask her to marry you?” she asked him with that innocent and utterly bold curiosity Nathanial had come to expect from her.
“Marry her?” he gasped, nonetheless stunned to be confronted by such a question. Indeed, he knew well that his past with Abigail was no secret to the people of Markham Hall. Even before she had arrived, whispered words about his broken engagement had found their way to those who would listen. He had noted the occasional pitying glance or sorrowful sigh from those employed around the estate.
He had not cared for them for they made him feel lacking.
“Of course,” Daphne replied with enthusiasm. “You’re her prince.” Her gaze narrowed. “You do know that, don’t you? It’s so easy to see.”
Nathanial chuckled. “Are you saying I used to be a frog?” he asked, trying his best to dissuade the girl from her current line of inquiry.
Daphne laughed. “Perhaps not a green one,” she conceded. “But you’re happier when she is around, are you not?”
Nathanial swallowed. Was he? Sighing, he glanced down at the two women, speaking to one another. For a moment, his gaze lingered on Abigail before it was inevitably drawn to Charlaine…and a warm smile came to his face. “I do enjoy Abigail’s company,” he told Daphne when he turned back to look at her. “However, I do believe we’re merely friends now and—”
“Not her.” Daphne shook her head. “Charlaine.” Her little brows rose in a rather indulgent way. “Did you not know?”
Nathanial tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he stared at the little girl with the expressive face.
Daphne laughed. “You truly didn’t, did you?” She stepped forward, a hint of a conspiratorial look coming to her face as she waved him closer. Frowning, Nathanial bent down when she cupped her mouth and whispered, “When you marry her, can I be a flower girl?”
Completely caught off guard, Nathanial stared at her.
Daphne glanced over her shoulder to where little Susan stood half-hidden behind a curtain. “Susan wants to be one, too,” she told him. “I promise we’ll do it well. We’ll practice.”
Stammering something rather unintelligible, Nathanial all but flinched when he noticed Charlaine heading their way.
She moved up the slope toward the house while Abigail remained down below in the gardens, looking after her. Indeed, Nathanial had noticed that Charlaine had all but avoided Abigail ever since her arrival a few days ago. Had he been wrong? Despite their similarities, did they not get along?
“Will you play with us?” Daphne asked Charlaine the moment she stepped onto the terrace. “We want to have a tea party.” A sly grin snuck onto her face. “With real tea and biscuits.”
Charlaine laughed, her gaze merely grazing his before it came to rest on Daphne. “What a delightful idea!” She leaned down and whispered, “I shall see what I can do.”
Daphne beamed up at her, then spun around and dashed back inside.
“Are you all right?” Nathanial asked as Charlaine made to follow.
Stopping, she met his gaze, her own strangely guarded. “Of course.” A small smile came to her lips. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” Although her smile never faltered, the expression upon her face remained strained. “I’ll see you later.” Then she left, and Nathanial could not shake the thought that she was all but fleeing his presence.
Closing his eyes, Nathanial inhaled a deep breath, the fresh air chasing a chill across his skin. Then he turned back to look at Abigail, who was slowly making her way up to the terrace. What had happened between them?
“Are you all right?” he asked her as he had asked Charlaine, wondering if Abigail would be more forthcoming.
A long sigh left her lips as she stepped toward him. “She does not want me here,” Abigail said without preamble, the look upon her face one of deep regret.
Nathanial frowned. “I do not believe that to be true.” Or did he simply not want to believe it? “She is so kind and compassionate and—”
Abigail stepped forward, her hand coming to rest on his arm. “Trust me, Nathanial. She does not want me here. She does her best to hide it, but…” She inhaled a deep breath as though gathering courage. “Is there something between the two of you? Something more than friendship?”