“That is good to hear.” His nerves eased slightly.
James had picked up Charlotte just off Bond Street where her mother thought she was shopping. He could only hope no one had witnessed her getting into his carriage. As with any of these outings, a multitude of things could go wrong.
But another look out the window at the impressive estate with its long, tree-lined drive and the imposing facade had him setting aside some of his worries. Charlotte’s excitement eased the rest. She was the reason he was here. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he told himself to stay away from her. Something about her pulled at him, allowing him to ignore the shadows and focus on the light—her light.
Nothing eased his emotional angst the way she did. Not drinking or gambling or gaming hells. Living as a rogue was losing its appeal and Charlotte was to blame. Even now, he couldn’t help but watch her as she took in the scenery. Viewing the world through her eyes lifted his spirits, making him feel hopeful.
Per the instructions Aberland provided, the carriage passed by the front steps of the house and moved towards the west wing where the conservatory stood.
The day was a fine one with the sun shining bright and the air relatively warm. It seemed a shame to spend hours inside, but perhaps they would be permitted to walk through the extensive gardens as well.
A liveried footman awaited them and came forward to lower the steps and open the door after the carriage halted.
“Good day, my lord, my lady.” The footman bowed. “Welcome to Balston Park Conservatory.”
“Thank you.” James stepped out then helped Charlotte to alight.
“If you will follow me,” the footman said.
James offered his arm to Charlotte and glanced over his shoulder to make certain the maid followed. She seemed as much in awe at the structure as they were.
The footman led them to a door set among the numerous glass panes of the building which were interspersed with open windows. “Mr. Ruxton, the steward, is waiting inside for you.” He held open the door with another bow.
James followed Charlotte through the door and breathed in the humid air heavy with the scents of moist earth, the tang of exotic flowers, and a mix of other lush vegetation.
The steward greeted them with a smile. “Welcome. I’m Mr. Ruxton. Have either of you visited before?”
“We have not yet had the pleasure,” James advised him as he took in the bountiful foliage with flowers he’d never seen before. A glance at Charlotte showed her as fascinated as he was.
“I have no doubt you will enjoy your visit. Allow me to share a little bit about its history and how it’s organized. Then you may wander the various paths as you wish.” He escorted them deeper into the large building, explaining how swampland had been cleared to build the estate in the thirteenth century, then expanded in the past decade.
Charlotte appeared to drink in every word, and James hid a smile. Her thirst for knowledge was one of the many reasons he admired her.
“The latest innovations in construction techniques allowed for the cast-iron columns and glass roof as well as the vaulted ceiling,” the steward said as he pointed out the features. “As you can see, the large windows are left open when the weather permits. The glass roof is one of the few in all of England. There are several walkways through the conservatory, all of which provide a lovely view. If you have the inclination, you are also welcome to tour the gardens outside. It’s a beautiful day for it.” He gestured toward the far end of the conservatory where three sets of doors stood open to the garden.
The steward gave more details than they could have asked for, explaining the duke's vision for the conservatory.
“One of the highlights is the curved stream with goldfish and mossy banks. Several small bridges cross the stream. We have over three thousand varieties of plants and flowers inside.” Mr. Ruxton led them to where the path divided. “In general, the right side of the conservatory resembles an English forest while the left side resembles a jungle with the stream in the middle. I will leave you to explore on your own and return later to answer any questions you might have. Enjoy your visit.” He bowed and left them.
James glanced at Charlotte. “Which path would you like to take first?”
She looked about with wonder, her gaze lingering on the abundance of plants and trees that created a canopy overhead. Then her gaze met his, their depths sparkling with an excitement which increased his own. “You choose.”
“But it's your adventure.”
“No,” she said with a smile. “It's our adventure. Then she tightened her hold on his arm. “Lead the way.”
With a lightness in his heart that he hadn't felt in a long time, he took the path on the far right.
They wandered along with the maid following, pausing often to look around, taking turns at pointing out dahlias, nerines, lilies, and fuschia not to mention numerous roses. The variety was staggering. James was pleased the duke and duchess allowed a few visitors as it seemed a shame to keep all this for just one family.
“I hope in the future they open this to the public for everyone to enjoy,” Charlotte said.
James smiled. “I was thinking the same.” He was surprised at how often they agreed on various topics.
Nearly an hour had passed when they returned to where the paths converged to select another path. As far as he could tell, they had the entire place to themselves.
“If you don't mind, my lady,” the maid said, “I will wait here.” She pointed toward a bench nestled beneath a flowering tree.
“Of course.” Charlotte nodded. “We shall return soon.”
James escorted her down another walkway, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. “The duke seems to have collected every type of tree that grows in England and beyond.”
“Amazing.”
While James appreciated the conservatory, viewing it with Charlotte made it far more special. Her enthusiasm for all they saw added to his own. Moments such as this made him feel unbroken. As if he could hope for a future after all—one where he might have a wife and a family.
He paused to face her. “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked, her gaze holding his.
“For making this possible.”
Her sweet smile gave him pause. “You helped make it so as well.”
“I’m not the one who was able to request assistance from the Earl of Aberland. I owe you our wager.”
“Well, if you hadn’t accompanied me, I wouldn’t be here.” Her gaze dropped to his lips, lighting a spark of desire deep inside him.
The urge to kiss her flooded him. Never mind that he’d told himself in the dark of the night that he needed to keep his distance. He blamed his lack of will on the heady fragrance in the air as he leaned close, her lips but a breath away.
Anticipation filled him when she remained where she was rather than drawing back. That was as much of an invitation as he needed. He pressed his lips to hers, then repeated the gentle assault, savoring each taste of her. At last, he deepened the kiss, hoping she would allow him entrance.
She shifted closer and did exactly as he wished, her hands resting on his chest. He swept his tongue along hers, the sharpness of his desire shocking. Something about this woman called to him, warming the cold places deep within him. When her arms wrapped around him and held tight, his soul calmed.
He told himself to ease back, to take this slow. But need took over, and he crushed her against his length. Did she realize how much he desired her? He shifted to kiss the edge of her jaw, the softness of her neck. Now that he’d started, he feared he couldn’t stop. His pulse thundered as time slowed.
“James?” she whispered.
“Yes?” He forced himself to draw back to look at her. Why couldn’t he seem to remember that his attraction to her couldn’t lead anywhere?
Yet as he gazed into her passion-filled eyes, he wished that weren’t true. He wished he’d come home from the war happy and
whole, proud of what had been accomplished, and resolved to what he’d witnessed.
But he hadn’t. Encouraging her to think a future was possible wasn’t fair.
Before she could do or say something that might change his mind, he released her.
“Charlotte,” he began, hoping she would understand. “You deserve someone special. Someone who will give you the happy life you deserve.”
The passion in her eyes dimmed. She took a step back, her lashes hiding her eyes. “But not you?”
“I am not who you think I am.” How could he possibly explain? He couldn’t share the horrible things he’d witnessed, and his memories hadn't faded. In fact, they seemed stronger than ever, especially in the middle of the night. A peaceful afternoon with her at his side didn’t change the truth.
“I believe I’m coming to know you well.” Those long lashes lifted, and her gaze met his. “And I very much respect and admire the man you are.”
He shook his head. “You deserve so much better.” A man who wasn’t broken.
“Someone such as Lord Samuelson?” Worry flared in her expression.
“Samuelson? What does he have to do with you?”
“He is the man my father intends to be my future husband.” The catch in her throat caused him to clench his fist.
James turned away, not wanting her to see his disbelief. Lord Samuelson was significantly older than her with few admirable qualities that James knew of. He was well known for gambling on horse races and spending far too much money on mistresses.
The idea of him with Charlotte was inconceivable. In James’ opinion, Samuelson was too similar to the Earl of Wynn and would make a terrible husband for her. But James was in no position to protest when he couldn’t make it through a day without his memories dragging him into despair.
“I have no doubt he would make a worthy suitor,” he managed. “More so than I could.”
“James, if you would tell me...” Her voice drifted off, but he already knew what she wanted. Was she frightened to finish the request? She should be.
“Tell you what?” He braced himself.
“I have no doubt that the war was incredibly difficult. That the conditions were terrible. I'm sure you saw many die.” She paused as if hoping he’d fill in the details.
But he couldn't. Even her vague description conjured up terrible memories that clawed at the back of his throat. He could only shake his head again.
“I would very much like to know more.” Her gloved hand reached for his clenched fist and held tight. “Even if nothing can happen between us, I want to understand.”
“No one should endure such atrocities. I will not—cannot—be the one to tell you about it.”
“But—”
He turned aside. “What purpose would be served by filling your mind with the same images that fill mine? The ones that give me nightmares and keep me from sleeping through the night. The memories that cause me to become unhinged when startled. I would not wish that on anyone.”
“Surely speaking of it to someone, even me, would ease your burden.”
“A confession of sorts?” He scoffed, unable to say more. Not when he couldn't get the words past the ball in his throat. Where did he even begin sharing the misery, the fear, including his own cowardice? He wasn't proud of the terror and panic that had weakened his knees and made it difficult to think when they’d been under attack.
While he had never run from battle, he’d certainly considered it. And he hated that knowledge. If everyone realized his true nature, he would be shunned from polite society and labeled a coward. Each day, he waited to see if someone would realize that he was no hero. That he had only been in the right place at the right time and chosen not to run.
Even worse was the worry that he would somehow let the truth slip. Just like the exhibit falling at the museum had thrown him back onto the battlefield. What might happen that would reveal the truth?
“James.”
He forced himself to look at Charlotte and the concern in her gaze tore at him, just as his mother’s worry did.
“Not a confession,” she said reassuringly. “Merely speaking with a friend.”
He shook his head, unable to fathom doing so. For if he did, her look of concern would surely change to disgust. “Let us look at the outdoor garden. I need some fresh air.”
Chapter Nine
“Thank you so much for the invitation.” Charlotte curtsied as she greeted Caroline Walker, the Countess of Aberland, Margaret’s eldest sister.
“I’m pleased you could join us.” The countess had always been kind to Charlotte, but this was the first time Charlotte had visited her home.
The invitation to tea had been a pleasant surprise and a welcome distraction. Three days had passed since she and James had ventured to the conservatory. She hadn’t seen him since and worried how he fared. His deep distress had shocked her, so at odds when he seemed confident and capable. But the shadows in his demeanor had formed for a reason. Whatever he’d been through had affected him deeply.
Despite him stating that he wasn’t for her—words that even now threatened to bring tears to her eyes—she still wanted to help. Her hurt had yet to ease. Obviously, she was far more attracted to him than he was to her.
How she wished—
Charlotte nipped the thought before it formed, having already resolved herself to disappointment over the course of the past three days. Now was not the time to allow herself to become overly emotional again. She lifted her chin.
If she knew how James was, she could stop thinking about him. Asking Edward if he’d seen him had proved to be a mistake as her brother was puzzled why she wanted to know. Her bumbling excuse had barely covered the truth. Unfortunately, Edward hadn’t seen him either.
James hadn't attended the ball last evening, not that she’d expected him to. However, Lord Samuelson had. They’d shared another dance that served to strengthen the knot of dread in her stomach at the idea of spending her future with the man. She’d gone out of her way to be dull and boring, adding little to the conversation other than referencing a book or two she’d read. Few men appreciated well-read ladies. If that didn’t turn him away, perhaps she needed to find a way to truly offend him though that might anger her father.
Charlotte looked around Lady Aberland’s drawing room and saw several familiar faces, most especially Margaret's. Her friend excused herself from visiting with another guest and rose to greet her.
“I'm so pleased you came.” Margaret grasped her hands warmly.
“As am I.” Charlotte couldn’t remember how she’d managed life without Margaret’s friendship. She was a treasure. “I’m certain I have you to thank for the invitation.”
Margaret smiled. “Caroline asked with whom I would like to visit, and you were the first person who came to mind. Did your mother accompany you?” Margaret looked over Charlotte’s shoulder as if expecting to see her enter the drawing room.
“She wasn't feeling well and decided to remain home.” Guilt filled her at the lie, though she supposed unhappiness could be considered an illness of sorts. Charlotte wished her mother had joined her. Nonetheless, Lady Wynn had been thrilled about the invitation. With luck, she’d mention it to Charlotte’s father which would help her remain in his good graces and remove some of the pressure he placed on both Charlotte and her mother.
The look of sympathy Margaret offered eased the ache in Charlotte’s chest. Would she have the same life as her mother once she married? The worry plagued her. She detested the idea that she might prefer to hide at home rather than spend time with family or friends, all because she was unhappy in her marriage.
“How lovely that your mother is here,” Charlotte remarked when she saw Lady Gold. She knew how rarely the woman left her husband’s side and how much that weighed on Margaret.
“I'm delighted she came.” Margaret turned to where her mother visited with several other ladies. “Annabelle joined us
as well.”
“I haven’t seen her in an age.”
The middle Gold daughter had married Thomas Raybourne nearly a year and a half ago. The pair had recently become parents, much to Margaret's delight. Their daughter, along with Caroline’s two children, were all wonderful, according to their Aunt Margaret. Charlotte was pleased to see how Mrs. Raybourne’s face glowed with happiness.
“Motherhood must agree with her,” Charlotte said.
“She seems to have adjusted to it very well. Come and join us.” Margaret gestured to a chair next to where she’d been sitting.
Charlotte took the seat and greeted Lady Gold, Mrs. Raybourne, and Margaret’s cousin, the Countess of Granger, already enjoying the conversation and company.
Margaret introduced her to the few women she hadn’t met and was pleasantly surprised to learn one was the Countess of Redmond, James’ mother.
“It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Charlotte said even as she studied her with barely contained curiosity, already noting hints of James in her face. They shared the same warm brown eyes and wavy, dark hair.
She longed to ask how he was but didn't want to reveal the nature of their relationship. Instead, they visited about the weather and Lady Aberland’s lovely drawing room before at last Charlotte said, “I believe my brother, Edward, knows your son quite well.”
“Oh, yes.” Lady Redmond nodded. “James mentioned they had renewed their acquaintance since his return. Though of course, I don't see him often.” The lady's smile dimmed slightly.
Charlotte knew James had his own apartment but wondered if Lady Redmond worried about him and the way he’d changed since his return. “We don't see much of Edward despite the fact that he remains at home. You must be so proud of your son and his years of military service.”
“Indeed, we are. His time in the army was difficult just as it was for most of those who fought in the war. Thank heavens it is over.”
Charlotte nodded though she feared it wasn’t truly over for James. Not when he was still disturbed by his experience. She hoped it made a difference to him to know others cared. His mother obviously did, though Charlotte wondered if Lady Redmond realized how much James continued to suffer.
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