Charlotte opened the shed and stepped inside, shivering off a chill from the afternoon air. She chose to paint out in the shed because she did not want the supplies to become cumbersome to Bitty. Bitty complained that Charlotte would catch a touch of the ague, but it was her place to escape. So if that meant she needed to wear extra layers and paint until she couldn’t stand the cold any longer, so be it. Charlotte was left standing in the dim glow of the tapers she lit, staring down at the few fine horsehair brushes she owned and the bits of paints.
Charlotte sat down on the freezing wooden stool, and shivered as she waited for inspiration. After a moment, she dipped the brush into the paint and made long strokes of a deep blue. They were clean lines, like those on the jacket of a gentleman. Charlotte began to form a hemline at the waist, not considering who she might be painting. It wasn’t until she switched to the smaller tipped brush and applied a dark red hue to the bottom lip that she sat back and realized how often she fantasized about kissing those lips.
Charlotte shook her head, trying to get ahold of herself. “Honestly,” she murmured. She jumped and let out a fearful shout when a deep voice came from behind her. She had not heard that voice in years. She was so lost in her painting that she had no idea its subject entered the shed.
“Honestly, I’d say you’ve rather done my likeness a kindness,” he breathed. “Apart from a few lines around my eyes from age that you’ve not captured, it still looks like me.”
Charlotte whirled around, her skirts slapping against the easel. “Daniel!” she gasped. “I…I mean Commander Richards! What a surprise. What are you doing here?”
“Well, I can honestly say that wasn’t the greeting I was expecting Char, but I’ll take what I can get.” His blue eyes were indeed lined with more laugh lines since the last time she’d seen him. They sparkled in the dim light.
“I…I…” Charlotte didn’t know what to say. So many questions filled her mind, and her body had been lit a flame when he called her by their old intimate nickname.
“I understand, Char. It’s a bit sudden, and I’m dropping in like this unannounced. I should have done the proper thing and called on you.” He sighed and stepped further into the tiny shed, crowding Charlotte so that she instinctively stepped back. She was now pressed against the back wall and she felt for the spare stool she had tucked away when she knew he wasn’t coming back. She dragged it across the floor so that they could both sit. She was grateful for the opportunity to be off her feet; she felt as though he knees would give out at any moment. She stared at him, dumbfounded. “What made you decide to paint me?”
“Umm...” Charlotte searched for the right words, ones delicate enough to be considered inoffensive. “Today I heard... I was at morning tea with the Duchess of Cambridge and…”
“And Her Grace took it upon herself to inform the rest of the ton about the news and gossip?”
Charlotte blushed and looked down. He had slid the easel to the side carefully and was sitting on the stool opposite her. She was filled with nervous energy and tension. “Yes. She told us what has happened. Daniel…Commander Richards, I’m sorry for what has happened. I only hope that our friendship five years ago wasn’t the cause of it.”
Daniel ran a hand through his chestnut hair and smiled morosely. “No, it wasn’t. At least, I don’t think it was. Sarah was unhappy with the arrangement from the start. I can’t blame her. The vows were said in haste at our fathers’ behest, and I told my father I didn’t think it was a fit union. But the ways of old men are to be set, I’m afraid. Being away for so long, I had no doubt there would be something to deal with when I got back, but I didn’t know how long I would be away.” He looked around the room and smiled. Charlotte was happy to see it still reached his eyes, despite the chaos and shame brought onto his family from his wife’s elopement.
She wondered if she should ask the question that was burning on the tip of her tongue. When he found out he was to be away for so long, why didn’t he write her? What caused him to stop? Charlotte looked around the small room and suddenly felt suffocated. She stood abruptly, needing to be out into the fresh air where she could think more clearly. “Well, I’m certain you have things to attend to. I shouldn’t keep you. When do you expect you will depart to go look for Lady Richards?”
Daniel blinked up at her, and his brow furrowed. “I won’t be going anywhere. Why do you presume that I will?”
“Well, I assumed that when one’s wife goes wayward, the reasonable thing would be to go and collect her.” Charlotte wondered if she could squeeze past Daniel without touching him. The chances weren’t great, but she slowly inched her way towards his stool.
“I just told you she’s been dreadfully unhappy, Char,” he said. “Why would I find her and bring her back? To make her even more miserable by stealing her away from her lover?” Charlotte was relieved when he stood and she could scoot past him towards the door. Just before she reached it, he grabbed her by the arm and gently spun her around to face him. “I know there I things I need to answer to. Why I stopped writing, what happened that kept me away for so long. Other things. But I want you to know the most important thing, Char.”
“What’s that?” Charlotte whispered. She couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes. She was certain if she met his gaze and saw her reflection in his own, she would certainly weep.
“I missed you.” With those words, he let go of her arm and swiftly moved out the door, leaving her standing there. She touched the place where the heat of his hand still warmed her skin through her sleeve. Charlotte stood like that until Bitty found Charlotte to let her know that dinner was ready. She only reluctantly let go when Bitty took her by the hand and led her back to the kitchen.
Chapter 3
Charlotte spent the next couple of days fretting about if she should write to Daniel and call their affair off. She went back and forth between chastising herself with how very wrong it was and reveling in her glee that one of his first priorities was to come and see her. Bitty strongly disapproved all of these musings.
“He never should have been in that shed with you, Ms. Rose. It isn’t proper. With a wayward wife and a soiled reputation, if the two of you were caught...I’m afraid it would be the end of you.”
“Oh Bitty, he’s a friend. Besides, what do I care about being ruined? I haven’t enough social standing to fall much from grace.”
“There’s your stipend to think about, Ms. Rose. What would happen if Mr. Dylan were to hear of your affair?”
Charlotte sighed and continued folding sheets. She wasn’t opposed to helping with household chores. The older woman had a hard time keeping up with it all, and as long as she provided meals like the delectable lamb stew that she had the other night, Charlotte was content with helping with the rest. “My stipend is at the behest of Mr. Rose,” she argued. “Mr. Dylan can’t take it away even if he thought my actions were questionable. It would be unlawful.”
“Begging your pardon Ma’am, but you aren’t thinking clearly. You’re thinking with your heart. Mr. Dylan might not be able to take it away indefinitely, but he could put a hold on the stipend until he has a solicitor verify that he can’t stop payment altogether. That could take weeks if he decided to draw it out. You know as well as I it’s long enough to ruin someone, even if it is for a short time. How would we survive?”
Charlotte stopped folding the linens, turned, and sat on the bed. Choosing her own welfare over the feelings in her heart was painful. She knew Bitty was speaking the truth. She just loathed the fact that it always seemed to come down to a choice. She could have one thing or another, but never both. She could have Daniel and be shunned from society, or she could choose her welfare and Bitty’s over the man she loved and she would lose affection from Daniel.
Considering all of this, Charlotte knew that she would choose the safety of her household over Daniel. In fact, she already had when she quit writing after not receiving responses for so long. It hurt then and she felt the fresh wave
of pain knowing she would keep her distance now, even with him returned to the ton and so near.
“I understand, Bitty. I won’t let that happen.”
Bitty leaned over, squeezed her hand, and Charlotte fought to keep the tears at bay. It was dreadfully unfair that even now, she couldn’t have what she wanted. All the women she was required to surround herself with had husband’s they chose, and the financial stability to at least have a say in their own fate. Charlotte felt selfish and childish for focusing on the unfairness of her situation, but she could not help it. She went back to folding the linens, not daring to look at her apron and painting dress hanging in the closet. She hadn’t gone back out to the shed in the last couple of days; the memory of being that close to him was too fresh. She didn’t want to fall back into the hopefulness she had experienced a few years prior. It was a beautiful daydream back then, imagining that the Richards were a terribly unhappy couple and that they might find reason not to continue their marriage, leaving Daniel available to be with her. But that was a passing fantasy, and when the situation became dire and the letters stopped coming, she had banished the fanciful thoughts from her mind.
Catherine considered taking a trip to the shed to collect her painting supplies and set them up in her bedroom. She did not want to return to the shed for a long time, as there were too many memories attached to the structure. Besides, they could certainly use the extra space for firewood and food storage throughout the winter. It was decided: she would go and move her things that afternoon.
Just as she was finishing up folding the linens, the knocker sounded from the hall. She looked at Bitty, who appeared equally perplexed as to who this visitor could be. It was after morning tea but too early for lunch.
“I’ll get it,” Bitty said, moving away toward the door as Catherine finished putting the linens in the trunk at the foot of her bed.
When she was done, she started descending the stairs and heard Bitty arguing with someone. “I don’t think it is appropriate, Sir!”
“Ma’am, I’m just the messenger.” She did not recognize the man's voice coming from the other side of the door.
“Well then tell him-” started Bitty.
“Ms. Chauncy, what on earth is going on down here?” Catherine stepped toward the door. On the other side was a portly man in a suit and cape. He held out a package that was addressed to Catherine. She took the package and opened it with trembling fingers. In her gut she knew who it was from, even though it was not labeled with a note or name. Inside was a delicate bone hair comb. There was a gemstone butterfly attached to the comb, meant to be worn in a woman's hair as a decoration. Charlotte stared at the intricate butterfly. It was absolutely resplendent; purple with brilliant blues, greens and yellow gemstones mixed in the outer edge. She cleared her throat and her voice trembled when she said, “take it back, please. Return it to the sender.” Charlotte felt her cheeks flush as the man’s eyes widened. He looked down at the package as she carefully wrapped it back up and handed it to him.
“I beg your pardon Ma’am, but…”
“You heard the Lady. Take it back, please.” Bitty’s voice was sharp. The man gave a light bow to her and took the package from Charlotte’s hand. Why was Daniel pursuing their affair as if it had never ended? Why was he sending such expensive gifts? That bauble was worth enough money to feed her and Bitty for the year. Not to mention, Daniel was still technically married. Charlotte had drummed up all sorts of excuses for her behavior a few years ago: youth, loneliness, but she knew that their relationship was not right, morally or ethically. Despite how much she wanted to be his, it could not be that way.
“Yes, thank you. But I can’t accept this gift. Be sure to tell the sender it was very thoughtful. Have a good day, Sir.” Charlotte slowly shut the door in the stunned face of the deliveryman and turned around with her back pressed to it. She shut her eyes, feeling the hurt well up in her chest to the point where it overwhelmed her. The tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Ms. Rose…” Bitty began, but Charlotte held up her hand.
“Not now, Bitty.” She walked back up the stairs feeling like the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders. She supposed the pain and heartache was punishment for her past indiscretions. Charlotte let herself collapse on her bed and she cried until she fell asleep. She did not stir until late afternoon when Bitty came in to wake her for an early dinner. She begrudgingly got up, knowing Bitty wouldn’t allow her to wallow anymore for that man, and followed her to the kitchen.
She and Bitty sat around the large wooden kitchen table and discussed what they might do for the rest of the week. Charlotte told her, “I might bring my paints in and put them above stairs. It won’t do for them to freeze up this winter and be useless.”
“That’s a fine idea,” Bitty said around a mouthful of bread.
“Then I think I’ll hire a chaperone and go for a walk in the park one day and perhaps take in a play. We’ve already done the autumn cleaning. That leaves plenty of recreation time. I could use some inspiration from the parks many colors,” she mused. Charlotte played with her soup, pushing the idea to hire Daniel as her chaperone out of her mind. She had to stop thinking about him.
As Charlotte headed upstairs to read a bit before turning in for the night, she heard Bitty gasp. Judging by the look on her face, she thought Bitty might have seen a spirit of some kind. Bitty’s eyes were fixed on the doorway, and Charlotte whirled around to find Daniel standing there. His face was impassive but his eyes bored into her.
“You didn’t appreciate my gift?” he asked softly.
“No, that’s not it. But I feel like it isn’t at all appropriate.” She notched her chin higher. She really wished Bitty wasn’t there, watching this exchange.
“Neither is painting the likeness of a man whom you deem inappropriate, Ms. Rose.” Bitty gasped and Charlotte felt her cheeks burn.
“I beg your pardon, Commander Richards, but neither is barging into a woman’s home, unannounced and uninvited. Twice!” She wanted to huff and stomp her way around him, but he was blocking the door once again, trapping her in. As it was, she felt her embarrassment turning to irritation as his lips twitched in amusement.
“Well, I beg your pardon, Ms. Rose. I will announce my presence more formally when I pick you up for a stroll in the park tomorrow after morning tea.” With that, he gave her a very formal bow. Charlotte caught herself reciprocating the formality, but then stopped as he turned, chuckling and walked back down the hall. She heard the front door open and close.
“Did he just…?”
“Yes, Ms. Rose, I think he did.” Charlotte and Bitty raced down the hall towards the front door to watch him through the slatted windows climb into a carriage. There was no help for it now. With as many busy bodies as there were amongst the ton, surely someone would have spotted him entering and exiting her home. Charlotte groaned as she watched the carriage pull away. How was she going to explain this on Sunday at morning tea with Her Grace, the Duchess of Cambridge? She was now going to be the talk of the ton, something she had desperately hoped to avoid in her lifetime.
It wasn’t until she was again heading above stairs for the night that she saw the small brown package lying on the banister. She didn’t have to open it to know that the butterfly hair pin was inside. He’d brought it back and left it for her. Charlotte tucked it away in her boudoir within her chambers. She vowed never to take it out and look at it, lest she be tempted to put it in her blonde hair and see what it looked like.
Charlotte woke the next morning with a feeling mixed between dread and excitement. News of Daniel’s presence here in her house was sure to have spread by now. Charlotte was debating whether or not she should accept his offer to be her chaperone or not as she headed down for breakfast. She found Bitty in the kitchen per usual, and she looked just as displeased as she had the night before.
Charlotte sat down with a bowl of porridge and was just about to say good morning when Bitty slid an envelope acros
s the table at her. Charlotte dropped her spoon when she reached out and picked up the finely printed, expensive envelope marked from the estate of Her Grace, the Duchess of Cambridge. On the inside of the envelope, Charlotte pulled out another fine piece of parchment with the words, “Her Grace, the Duchess of Cambridge, formally extends the invitation of Ms. Charlotte Rose to partake of morning tea on this day, October the Twenty-Second at eleven a.m. Please cordially send a response post haste, and a carriage will be sent immediately for the retrieval of Ms. Rose.” Charlotte read the letter aloud to Bitty.
“The footman is waiting in the parlor,” Bitty told her quietly.
“She knows,” Charlotte replied in a small voice. She didn’t want to go to tea, but she didn’t see how she could possibly avoid it. She wasn’t entirely sure she could refuse the request of her presence from a Duchess. She was fair certain it would be ill received at the very least, at most…Charlotte shuddered to think of the consequences.
A Rogue's Courtship: Clean Regency Romance Collection Page 18