As extravagant as his brother’s words had been, they appeared to have worked. Anne glowed from within, turning away from John with a soft, grateful smile. ‘Childhood is often full of meaning. Perhaps a small artefact from infancy would have more significance.’
‘We were raised in an orphanage.’ Robert had never heard John sound so gentle. As if he were speaking to a rabbit, or a deer—a precious creature, liable to flee. ‘We took nothing with us when we were sent out into the world.’
‘My goodness.’ Anne’s tone changed noticeably when responding to John. Just as gentle, but with a note of wondering surprise. Robert stared at both of them, feeling obscurely out of place. ‘How sad.’
It was all very well to get stuck in someone else’s star-crossed meeting, but his own life required a little more work. Robert cleared his throat, staring hard at John. ‘We don’t tend to talk about that aspect of our lives.’
‘Understandably. People can be quick to judge.’ Anne looked away from John, her cheeks colouring deeper still. ‘But—but there must have been small objects in that orphanage that you kept close. That became a part of the fabric of your life, while you were there. It would represent a gift of great meaning.’
Goodness. Objects? There were so many small things they had carelessly touched and played with. Sticks and stones in the great bare space they used for games, the small wooden figures they constructed to wage war…
‘A thimble.’ John’s voice broke into his line of thought. ‘Those thimbles they gave us to sew with. Do you remember—’
‘The one with the silver rim.’ He could see it now, shining in the darkness of his childhood. ‘How we all fought for it.’
Anne’s tone was a genteel combination of curiosity and surprise. ‘You sewed as children?’
‘When we were very young. Before we were told to take up more manly pursuits, yes.’ Robert smiled. ‘We always tried to steal the thimbles. We never managed it.’
‘Well, then. Perhaps a polite request now will accomplish more than years of attempted theft ever could.’ Anne smiled. ‘I think a silver-rimmed thimble with a story attached would be perfect.’
‘Yes.’ Robert turned to Anne, nodding as the idea grew sounder in his mind. ‘Yes—with the blue ribbon beneath it. Or tied around it.’
‘There.’ Anne bowed her head. You have a perfect gift.’
‘I’ll go and retrieve it directly. We’ll be back here in an hour—in a half-hour.’ Robert headed for the door, practically glowing with purpose. ‘Thank you—you’ve been an immense help.’
She had been. Everything had slipped into place. He’d convince Charlotte of his love with a thimble, a ribbon and some well-chosen words—and no-one on Earth could stop him.
As Robert rushed out into the street, John made to follow him. Or rather, he decided to follow him in his head, but his body remained stubbornly immobile.
He knew that he should follow Robert. There were any number of practical things that needed to be done, not all of them connected to his brother’s sentimental life. But everything, practical or not, faded away the more he looked at Anne Fletcher. The more he studied her out of the corner of his eye as he looked at the ceiling, at the floor—at anywhere that wasn’t her grave, lovely face, her skilful hands.
Could he invent something that he needed to buy? Lord, no—he didn’t need a ribbon. He only ever bought pencils and paper, with the wider world of commerce at a comforting distance. But neither could he stand in this lovely woman’s shop like a madman, staring about the room as if he could see things others couldn’t.
He’d never felt such a devastating attraction to someone before. A swift, instant bolt of lust that weakened his knees and filled his heart with wild, unsayable things.
‘Well.’ He tore his eyes away from the shop, looking reluctantly at the door. ‘I should probably—’
‘Yes.’ Anne looked down. John traced the fiery flush in her cheeks with hungry, helpless eyes. ‘Probably.’
There was nothing left to say that wouldn’t sound completely insane. Eventually, despite every cell in his body rebelling at the very idea of leaving the perfect creature he had just discovered, John admitted defeat. ‘Good day.’
‘Good day.’ Her face revealed nothing. But by the time John was halfway up the road, savagely regretting his every decision, she was watching him from the window.
The grey, harassed-looking man who ran the orphanage was shocked by Charlotte’s gift. So shocked, in fact, that he jumped to his feet with a cry of delight and run to inform the attendants—eight women in drab brown dresses and an elderly gardener—of their sudden, glorious good fortune. The atmosphere of awed gratitude was highly embarrassing for Charlotte, who had hoped to arrive and leave with a minimum of fuss, but she eventually relaxed into the unexpected praise with only a little resignation. She always created spectacle wherever she went, after all—why would this be any different?
At least she had come alone, sending her maid on an urgent and completely invented errand as soon as she could reasonably do so. She didn’t need an audience for this particular commission, especially with the orphanage staff already determined to treat her as minor royalty. Eventually, after plenty of gentle smiles, hand-clasping, and quiet but firm refusals of yet another biscuit or cup of tea, she managed to escape their kindness. As a smiling maid showed her to the front door, the sunny courtyard of the orphanage casting dapples of light over Charlotte’s gown, she found herself seized by a sudden, dark wave of futility.
She had done something good, something charitable—but could it even count as an example of charity if she’d done it not only to help but also to fulfil her promise to Robert? If she’d done it with even the slightest hope of Robert hearing of it, thinking of her, coming to her and telling her that she was changing, she was better… but then, he’d never actually told her that she wasn’t good enough. Not since the beginning of their arrangement. She’d told him that she wasn’t good enough, and with some firmness.
Would she ever feel as if she were good enough? Perhaps her feelings of such inadequacy hadn’t come from Robert, at least not directly. Maybe her sentiments concerning him, like the crest of a wave, had forced a sea change in the deepest, most fundamental part of herself.
Yes. She could go to him now, and tell him what she had done. Tell him about what she had discovered about herself over a week of tears and recriminations. Tell him… tell him that she had never felt like this about anyone, anyone in the world, and that being without him felt like losing a part of herself.
All this, over a man she had been so sure she hated. Now that irritation, that constant awareness of Robert’s presence, had been revealed for the powerful attraction it truly was.
When she kissed him, she felt truly herself. Her best and highest self. Lost in the memory of his mouth on hers, the look in his eyes, Charlotte wavered on the threshold as the maid opened the door.
She stared at Robert’s approaching figure, all rational thought suddenly gone. He was clearly out of breath, almost running down the bustling street, his hair and cravat in disarray as he headed towards the orphanage.
When he saw her, he stopped dead. Charlotte moved towards him, her heart beating savagely in her chest.
‘What are you doing here?’ Robert pointed up at the orphanage’s windows, his voice thick with shock. ‘Why are you—’
‘The donation.’ Charlotte folded her arms, then abruptly unfolded them. Now that he was staring at her, her body was hot and tense with sentiment. ‘It was part of the arrangement. Given that you think me a flighty creature, I—I couldn’t resist the opportunity to unsettle you.’
‘I’m—I’m duly unsettled.’ Robert blinked. For a moment Charlotte felt the old stirrings of resentment burn—but really, he had every right to be surprised. ‘Did you—’
‘Never you mind what I did. And don’t think about visiting them either—they’ve had quite enough excitement for one day.’
‘I knew it.’ The re
lief and gratitude in Robert’s voice washed over her like rain. ‘I knew you’d spoil whatever plan I had. Ruin it from start to finish.’
‘What plan?’
‘Nothing quite as grand as a large sum of money. It seems silly now—I’ll never tell you. You’ll only laugh.’
‘How dare you.’ Charlotte dared to smile as she moved closer to him. The bustling street became little more than a streak of grey watercolour, the people fading away to nothing. ‘Always so rude.’
‘At least I wasn’t impolite enough to arrive at my suitor’s romantic gesture before he’d manage to finish it.’
‘Well if my suitor is going to be so very slow at going about his business, I can hardly delay my own day.’
‘I love you.’ Robert took another step forward. ‘Very much.’
A romantic declaration in the middle of the street. She had always dreamed of such a tremendous gesture—but how vivid it felt, how glorious, when it was Robert declaring things. ‘And I love you. Not that the centre of a crowded thoroughfare is the correct place to say it.’
Robert’s delighted smile filled her like music. ‘I didn’t want a moment of delay.’
‘Don’t lie. You take great delight in delaying me.’
‘I’m going to delay your entire life if I can.’
‘How?’
‘Marriage. Children. Abiding love that grows with every season.’ Robert moved closer still, taking her hand; Charlotte felt a thrill of scandal as two passers-by stared openly. ‘If you’ll—’
‘Don’t insult me by assuming I’d have a problem with such an arrangement.’ Charlotte couldn’t help but giggle; it was difficult to keep up their usual fiery banter when she was so full of joy. More people were gathering; she was almost sure she could see John, one of Robert’s brothers, idling in a doorway and pretending not to look at both of them. ‘If anything, you’re abominably late in asking.’
‘I think I’ve wanted to ask you from the very first moment I saw you.’
‘Now passers-by were definitely listening. A rapt, scandalised muttering erupted from the five or six gentlemen and ladies feigning interest in nearby shop windows. Charlotte moved closer still, slipping her free hand into Robert’s own as she smiled. ‘Then we should make up for lost time, Mr. Duke.’
‘And how should we do that?’
‘You like an audience as much as I do.’ Her heart fluttered as Robert squeezed her hands. ‘Perhaps you could kneel on the cobblestones now, in front of all these horrified strangers, and—’
‘Surprise them? Oh, no.’ Robert paused. ‘I think I’ll surprise you first.’
How could he possibly surprise her? Charlotte considered it for a few moments—and then stopped, her lips parted, as Robert kissed her.
The gasps of shock from the onlookers were drowned out by the fierce, delicious fire spreading through every part of her. Charlotte sighed with pleasure, consigning her reputation to the compost heap until the banns were read.
Robert Duke. The only man who could really, truly surprise her. What a perfect husband he would be.
THE END
KEEP EXPLORING
If you’d like to enjoy more of my stories that are available on Amazon, why not pick below from whatever takes your fancy? Just click on the title, and it’ll take you to a sneak preview.
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Sinful in Scarlet: The Brothers Duke, Book One
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Felicia Greene: The Complete Collection
For the easiest, best way to read all of my novellas so far, read Private Passions and Wicked Whispers. These bumper collections contain all of my erotic romances, each one managing to be both very steamy, and extremely sweet. My popular collections span my interests, from Regency England to fairy-tale retellings to - yes - gargoyles - and now, for the first time, they are all together and available for you to download!
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If you want Regency romance, check out my newest collection - Dukes and Devilry and Bad Dukes Club. Lose yourself in this deliciously sensual slice of Regency escapism - with tortured dukes, teasing heroines and attraction that defies all decorum, this bumper collection is worthy of a weekend. Pour a glass of wine, light a candle, and let yourself go…
Dukes and Devilry: The Blooming Regency Collection
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Blushing in Blue: The Brothers Duke: Book Two Page 7
