How to Turn a Frog into a Prince

by Wolf, Bree

  Nathanial tensed, and her gaze dropped to where her hand rested upon sleeve, no doubt feeling the tension in his arm. “Of course not,” he croaked, wondering if anyone had ever lied worse. “We are friends, close friends. She’s rather…protective of those she holds dear.” He remembered well her anger toward Abigail when he had shared the happenings of his past with her. Charlaine had been angered on his account, her loyalty to him unfailing. “I told her what happened between us. Perhaps it was wrong. Perhaps she only needs some time to see past it, to see that…” He sighed.

  Abigail nodded. “Perhaps.” Then her gaze rose to meet his, her hand slipping into his, holding on. “And you?” she asked, a slight tremble in her jaw. “Can you truly forgive me? Can you see me as you once did? Can you look at me and not remember?” Tension lingered on her features, and Nathanial could see how much she feared his answer.

  Giving her a warm smile, he moved to close his other hand over hers. “Of course,” he told her, nevertheless surprised how easily the words flowed from his tongue. Indeed, there was no lingering regret or anger. Nothing. “I understand now what happened, and I see that I, too, was at fault. We’ve both made mistakes and they led us down a path we came to regret.” He sighed. “But we are here now, and we can start over.”

  A deep smile came to her face as she looked up at him, her blue eyes shining with tears. “Do you truly mean it?”

  Nathanial nodded. “Who we are to each other is now in our hands. We make our own decisions, choose our own path.”

  Her teeth sank into her lower lips as a beaming smile spread over her face. Then she suddenly reached for him, her hands brushing over his face and then snaked around his neck. Before Nathanial knew what was happening, her lips found his.

  Stunned, Nathanial froze, momentarily wondering if this was a mere illusion or if Abigail was truly in his arms, if she was truly kissing him.

  She felt warm and real.

  So very familiar.

  Without thought, his arms closed around her, holding her gently, as his mind drifted back to all the previous kisses they had shared. He remembered them well. The gentle pressure of her lips. The soft touch of her fingers upon his neck. The contentedness in his chest.

  And then the moment at the lake surged to the forefront of his mind and shoved all else aside.

  Again, Nathanial felt his heart almost beat out of his chest as Charlaine had lain in his arms. He had been consumed with the feel of her, a need beyond anything he had ever known beating in his veins like a drum, steady and all-consuming. He had felt alive as he never had before, her touch intoxicating, drawing him to her like a moth to a flame.

  He had felt perfectly at peace, and yet, utterly unhinged in that moment.

  With her.

  With Charlaine. Heaven help him, he loved her!

  Bowing his head, Nathanial broke the kiss. His hands fell from Abigail’s sides and he took a step back. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not certain what to say, how to explain.

  Abigail drew in a shuddering breath before her gaze rose to meet his. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around herself, reminding him of Charlaine as she had stood up on the slope the day he had returned to Markham Hall. “It’s too late, isn’t it?” Abigail said, her voice choked with tears. “Your heart already belongs to another, to her.”

  Nathanial tensed. “We’re friends, nothing more.” The words felt rehearsed, like a line from a play he had committed to memory after hearing it spoken again and again.

  Sorrow and regret lingered in Abigail’s gaze as she regarded him. “We both know that that is not true.” Her jaw quivered, and she dropped her gaze, her lips pressing into a tight line. A moment passed as she fought to regain control of her emotions. Then her gaze found his yet again. “You’re lying to yourself, and you know it. You love her as I love you.” A sob escaped her throat, and she took a step back. “Don’t be a fool, Nathanial. It’ll only lead to regret. Believe me, I know it.” Then she pushed past him and slipped into the house, the sound of her footsteps soon swallowed up by the growing distance between them.

  Nathanial hung his head, guilt over hurting Abigail’s feelings adding to the growing burden that lingered upon his heart. If only he knew what to do about it! The woman he loved cared for him only as a friend, and the woman who had, against all odds, discovered that she loved him after all no longer touched his heart.

  Had the world gone mad?

  Chapter Forty-Five

  In the Library

  Running as fast as her legs would carry her, Charlaine hastened along the corridor. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her heart ached with each breath she took. She pressed her lips into a tight line, fighting down the sobs that rose in her throat.

  He had kissed her!

  Nathanial had kissed Abigail!

  The image she had glimpsed through a gap in the curtains had burned itself into Charlaine’s mind. No matter what she did she could not seem to shake it. It was there, taunting her, torturing her. Never would she forget the moment Daphne had asked her to check if it was raining, the moment she had glimpsed them together, the moment her heart had broken in two, another loss after so many, robbing her of the last bit of strength she had left.

  Blinded by the tears in her eyes, Charlaine stumbled through the house without knowing where she was headed. Voices drifted to her ears then, and she dashed through the first door, desperate to escape prying eyes.

  Fortunately, she found herself in the library, its calm silence promising a momentary reprieve from the world outside its doors.

  Staggering to the armchairs situated in a small curve under the tall, arched window, Charlaine sank onto one with a sigh. She discarded her slippers, momentarily tempted to hurl them across the room, and then pulled up her legs, hugging her knees to her chest.

  Rain now pelted the window behind her, the harsh sound of its downpour an odd echo of her inner turmoil. Closing her eyes, Charlaine sank deeper into herself, her head coming to rest against the chair’s soft upholstery.

  And there she sat, her mind returning to the moment she had witnessed, the moment she could not forget for it proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that despite what might have sparked between Nathanial and her, he still loved his fiancée.

  Or former fiancée. But for how much longer?

  Who knew, perhaps even tonight they would announce their renewed engagement, happy and filled with joy as they looked into their future.

  Charlaine thought she would be sick.

  He is your friend, a painfully fair-minded voice reminded her. You ought to be happy for him.

  Burying her face in her hands, Charlaine tried her best to ignore it, to not hear the echo of her promise; a promise she had given lightly, never considering how it might ruin her one day.

  But that day had come and now—

  Tensing, Charlaine sat up, her gaze snapping around to the door across from where she sat. Had there been footsteps echoing closer? Or had it merely been her imagination? The thought of someone stumbling upon her, here, in this moment when her heart lay shattered before her—

  In shock, Charlaine stared as the handle was being pushed down. Then the door began to drift open. She heard the sound of skirts rustling and breathed a sigh of relief that at least it was not Nathanial who had found her.

  In the next moment, Abigail stepped into the room.

  Charlaine barely managed to stifle a groan as her soul cried out in pain. Still, she had to have made at least some sound for Abigail’s head suddenly snapped around, her eyes growing wide as they fell on her. “Oh.” The exclamation was soft, whispering of utter surprise.

  Charlaine swallowed, unable to conjure a clear thought. All she knew was that she wanted Abigail to leave.

  The library.

  Markham Hall.

  England.

  “I’ll go,” Abigail said into the room, a mild echo of her voice drifting upward. “I’m sorry.” She turned toward the door, but then paused. For a momen
t, she remained still before her gaze moved back to settle on Charlaine, a slight frown coming to her face.

  Charlaine tensed, willing the other woman to leave with every fiber of her being. She had won! She had reclaimed Nathanial’s heart! Was that not enough?

  Unfortunately, it seemed it was not, for Abigail did not leave. Instead, she slowly made her way over to where Charlaine sat huddled in her armchair. “I’m sorry. I—” Her voice broke off as her eyes narrowed, sweeping over Charlaine’s face. “Are you all right?”

  Swallowing, Charlaine moved to wipe the tears off her face. “I’m fine,” she told her with as much conviction as she could, which unfortunately was not a lot.

  Inhaling a deep breath, Abigail moved to seat herself in the armchair to Charlaine’s right.

  “Why are you here?” Charlaine snapped, instantly regretting the outburst. After all, truth be told, Abigail had done nothing wrong. She had merely fallen in love.

  A shuddering sigh left the other woman’s lips before her hand rose to dab a handkerchief to her eyes; eyes that looked red and shimmered with tears.

  Frowning, Charlaine shifted in her seat, her traitorous heart responding to the sight of someone in pain. “What happened?” she asked, confused by what she saw. “Why are you crying?”

  A sad chuckle left Abigail’s lips. “I might ask you the same.”

  Charlaine swallowed, uncertain about what was happening here. By all means, Abigail ought to be the happiest woman alive. Why wasn’t she?

  For a long moment, the two women sat in silence, the only sound the drumming of the rain on the windowpanes behind them, a steady rhythm like a heartbeat. Then after a long sigh, Abigail lifted her head, her red-rimmed eyes settling on Charlaine. “He doesn’t want me.”

  Her words were no more than a whisper and, for a moment, Charlaine was not certain she had heard her correctly. In answer, her gaze narrowed as though it would help her remember, help her hear the words more clearly. What was Abigail saying? Was she saying that—?

  Traitorous hope rose in Charlaine’s chest. “Who doesn’t want you?”

  Abigail’s hands clenched around her handkerchief. “Do you truly not know?” she asked in return, the sadness that lingered in her eyes heartbreaking. She swallowed hard, and another tear snaked down her cheek. “I hurt him,” she whispered then. “I broke his heart. I was a fool to do so.” Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “I’d take it back if I could.”

  Charlaine’s breath lodged in her throat as she stared at Abigail, not quite daring to believe. “He kissed you,” she whispered, and her words conjured the scene she had witnessed, sending a jolt of pain through her heart.

  Abigail met her gaze. “He did not.”

  “I saw you,” Charlaine insisted, clenching her hands as they began to tremble.

  Abigail shook her head. “I kissed him.” She sighed. “I suppose, for a moment, he felt reminded of how we used to be. For a moment, I had hope.” Her eyelids fluttered closed, and another tear rolled down her cheek. “But then he pulled away, and I knew.”

  Charlaine’s feet settled back onto the floor as she scooted to the edge of her seat. A thousand questions raced through her head, hope mingling with fear, and she stared at Abigail as though the other woman had grown another head. “But he loves you,” she whispered, wanting nothing more than for Abigail to contradict her.

  “He cares for me,” Abigail said with a sad smile. “But he doesn’t love me, not the way he used to.” Her blue eyes lingered on Charlaine. “He said you were friends.”

  Charlaine swallowed. “We are.”

  A rather indulgent look came to Abigail’s face. “Are you? Truly?”

  Charlaine dropped her gaze, torn between wanting to run from the room and finally confess all that lived in her heart.

  “You love him,” Abigail whispered into the silence, an agonizing sob following those words.

  Charlaine closed her eyes, then looked up. “I do,” she finally admitted, and as much as she feared the consequences of such a bold statement, it did feel liberating.

  Somehow, she felt lighter as though a heavy burden had been lifted off her shoulders.

  Blinking back tears, Abigail nodded. “I think I knew the moment he received your letter.”

  Charlaine frowned. “My letter?”

  “You wrote to him, and I was there when he read your lines.” Her eyes closed, and a hint of pain lingered in the way she held her head bowed. “I saw it in his eyes even then.”

  “Saw what?” Charlaine asked, her hands clenched so tightly her sinews began to hurt.

  Abigail’s head rose and she looked at her then. “That you’re the one who holds his heart.”

  Charlaine stared at Abigail as though the ground had opened up at her feet and a little green troll had climbed out, doing cartwheels through the library.

  A sad chuckle left Abigail’s lips. “It is true. Believe me for I wish it weren’t. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He looks at you the way I look at him, not as a friend, but as someone in love.”

  Charlaine gritted her teeth, trying her best to fight down the joy rising in her heart. “No, he doesn’t,” she stated vehemently. “He doesn’t.” Only too well did she remember the day by the lake when he had told her he wished their kiss had never happened. Why would he have said such a thing if he cared for her? If he loved her?

  “You’re afraid he doesn’t,” Abigail objected, once more dabbing her handkerchief to her eyes. “Just as I feared the opposite.”

  Charlaine swallowed hard. “Why did you come to find me?”

  “I didn’t.” Abigail shook her head. “I wanted to be alone, and I was afraid if I went to my chamber, he would come and speak to me, try to console me, comfort me.” The muscle in her jaw tightened. “I didn’t want his pity.” Fresh tears pooled in her eyes, and she blinked her lids rapidly to force them to retreat. Then she inhaled a deep breath and her gaze returned to Charlaine. “However, now that I’m here, I implore you,” her gaze softened, “don’t run away from this out of fear. I did, and it’s the greatest regret of my life.”

  “But—”

  Abigail reached across and her hand settled on Charlaine’s, cutting off her objection. “I hurt him, and now he’s afraid. Whatever he told you, whatever happened that led you to believe he could only see you as a friend, he only did or said because of what I did to him.” Her jaw quivered, and she dabbed the handkerchief to her eyes as fresh tears forced their way out. “Now, I have to pay the price.” She inhaled a deep breath, and her jaw tightened, a new determination coming to her gaze. “But I don’t want him to suffer for it. I want him to be happy again. He deserves to be.” Her hand squeezed Charlaine’s. “I think he needs you to be happy. Promise me you will not run.”

  Staring at Abigail, Charlaine could not bring herself to respond, to move, to think a clear thought. Her heart and mind were a mess, conjuring various memories, re-evaluating them, trying to find proof for what Abigail had said, trying to assess if there was hope. Could it be true? Did Nathanial not merely see her as a friend? Was there a part of him—a part that for a reason she could not fathom, he determinedly shoved aside—that cared for her as she cared for him?

  Never had Charlaine been one to run and hide, and remembering how she had evaded Nathanial these last few days, how she had wallowed in misery, pitying herself, suddenly made her angry. She ought to have confronted him. She ought to have spoken her mind and demanded he do so as well.

  For she always had, had she not?

  Heaven help her, but she would do so again.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Lord Ashhaven Interferes

  Awkward didn’t even begin to describe it.

  Seated in the drawing room, Nathanial had been roped into attending Daphne’s and Susan’s tea party. They had set up their armada of dolls in a small circle around the coffee table, Mrs. Colden’s good dishes artfully arranged upon it, and were animatedly discussing whether the biscuits were best on their o
wn or dunked in the tea.

  Every once in a while, Daphne would look up and glance out the windows overlooking the terrace. “I wish we could have a picnic,” she sighed for at least the tenth time.

  Susan nodded. “I do as well.” Then she glanced at him. “Don’t you agree?”

  Casting her a warm smile, Nathanial nodded. “A picnic sounds marvelous.” Unfortunately, though, the skies had opened not long ago and were still releasing torrents of rain upon the unsuspecting ground.

  While the girls continued their conversation, alternately speaking as themselves and for their various dolls, Nathanial found his thoughts drawn to the moment on the terrace.

  Indeed, Abigail’s kiss had shocked him, but it had also helped him realize that his heart truly no longer beat for her. Yes, he had been angry with her these past two years, dwelling on her betrayal and his disappointment, however, he had failed to notice at what point he had stopped caring.

  What he understood with perfect clarity, though, was why Abigail no longer held his heart.

  “Where is Charlaine?” he asked the girls. “Didn’t she want to join your tea party?” His gaze swept over the open doors, leading out into the hall where Pierce and Lord Ashhaven just then strode by, their faces tense as they spoke to one another.

  Daphne shrugged. “She went to look out the window and then she suddenly ran off.”

  “Do you think she saw something frightening?” Susan asked with wide eyes. “Something like…?”

  “Like what?” Daphne prompted.

  Susan shrugged, the look in her eyes still tense as she glanced toward the terrace. “I don’t know.”

  “There’s nothing frightening around here, silly,” Daphne laughed. “Don’t worry. Perhaps she only ran off to fetch more biscuits.”

  That thought immediately eased Susan’s fears.

  Rising to his feet, Nathanial began to pace.

  While he worried about Abigail, unable to forget the forlorn look upon her face when he had made it clear that they did not have a future together, he still could not stop wondering where Charlaine had gone. It was not like her to disappear and leave the girls without a word. Had something upset her?