Charlotte shook her head. “Cook gave me a basket of food. I have more than enough to eat until I get the kitchen outfitted once again.”
“You really intend to stay the night?”
Charlotte nodded. “I do.”
“That will be strange. I don’t think we’ve ever slept in different houses before.”
Charlotte angled her head contemplatively. She had not considered that, but Nora was correct. They had always slept beneath the same roof. Before they’d moved in with Marian and Nathaniel, they had even shared a room. A bed. It had been an adjustment simply having a bed to herself.
“It will be strange,” she agreed. But life went on, continued, changed, evolved. This she knew, as bittersweet as it might be.
Nora looked out at the countryside. “It was destined to happen. If you hadn’t called off your engagement, you would have been leaving me soon then.”
Charlotte inclined her head in agreement. “I suppose so.”
“This way is better. You’ll be living close. I can visit you any time I want . . . And I don’t have to see the Pembrokes on those visits.” Nora sat a little straighter, clearly delighted at this.
Charlotte smiled. “That is a perk.”
“Indeed.”
Marian had insisted she keep one of Warrington’s smaller carriages for herself, so that she might convey herself with ease back and forth to Haverston Hall or to the village as needed.
It was a kind gesture, and perhaps too generous, but Marian and Nathaniel had insisted. Just as they insisted they would help staff her house.
Charlotte could not dispute them. It was the only way they would agree to give her the house. They had ultimately negotiated and agreed upon two servants. She’d chosen Gertie and Thomas. Even now Gertie and Thomas were back at the house, arranging things for their new lives.
“You know, Nora . . . you are welcome to stay with me,” Charlotte offered.
“I have considered it.” She shrugged, staring straight ahead at the road. “I think I’ll stay at Haverston Hall. For now. I’ve quite settled in and am enjoying my laboratory. It’s a vastly grand space—”
“Uh, that’s your bedchamber, you realize.”
Nora continued as though Charlotte had not spoken. “And I admit I am passing fond of Cook’s biscuits.” She patted her middle. “I think I’ve added a stone since we moved in.”
“Well, the offer is there. You can join me at any time, if you so choose.”
Nora nodded and gave a small satisfied sigh. “I will keep that in mind. Thank you. Marian is married. You’ve found your situation. I need to find my own way as well.”
“You have time aplenty. You may wish to marry—”
She made a scoffing sound. “Doubtful. Can you imagine a gentleman choosing me for a wife? Or me choosing a gentleman? No man could be more interesting than my work.” She shuddered as though the prospect repulsed her.
A smile played about Charlotte’s lips. “One never knows.” She had certainly not been looking for passion or love, but it had managed to find her nonetheless. Unfortunately, it had not ended as merrily as Marian’s own foray in romance.
“Oh, I know. I will never marry.”
“Perhaps a taste of your tonic will persuade you otherwise?”
Nora harumphed. “As it changed your mind? Now you are not marrying at all. Although I imagined . . .” Her voice died away.
“You imagined what?” she prompted.
“I imagined that you and Mr. Kingston . . .” She wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully at Charlotte.
Charlotte’s levity faded. “I do not know what you are implying,” she lied. She had a good notion of what her sister was implying. She simply did not want to discuss Samuel with her. Not yet. Perhaps never. The wound was still much too raw.
“Oh, you know what I mean. You and Kingston. Together. As in married. I thought there was a very strong likelihood of that happening. When the two of you were together the air fairly crackled . . . as it does when Marian is with Nathaniel.”
“We are not like Marian and Nathaniel. They are in love.”
Her sister and Nathaniel loved each other. Undoubtedly. It was not a one-sided love. It was lasting. Forever.
A year ago, when Marian was abducted, Charlotte had never seen a man so overcome, so lost at the prospect of losing his wife.
Nora sighed. “I suppose I was mistaken.”
“Quite so.”
They topped the hill and started the descent to Haverston Hall. The house sprawled out below them in grandeur. Even though she had been living in the place for a while, it still took her breath away. It was a marvel to her that Marian had married into this world.
“Oh,” Nora said with heavy emphasis. “Maybe not quite.”
Charlotte sent her a curious glance. Her sister was gazing steadily at the house ahead. Charlotte followed her gaze and her stomach plummeted. She pulled up on the reins, hard, stopping the carriage.
“What are you doing?”
Charlotte could only stare.
Nora pressed. “Well, we can’t sit here all day and gawk at the fellow.”
Charlotte shook her head. “What is he doing here?”
He left. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
“I could hazard a guess as to what he is doing here. Can’t you?”
“He left.”
He left me.
It appeared as though they had just happened upon him as he, too, arrived at Haverston. He was dismounting from his horse. A groom hastened forward, reaching for his reins.
He had not noticed her yet, and she was heartily glad for that.
Charlotte was tempted to make her sister climb down from the carriage so that she could leave her here, so that she could turn around without him ever seeing her.
So she could get on with her life and get on with forgetting him.
That would be cowardly, however. She would not run. This place was her home. Well, in a manner. It was more her home than his at any rate.
“He came back. Obviously, he came back for you. I was not mistaken at all. I was right. He loves you.”
“There is nothing obvious about this to me,” she snapped.
Nora’s bright expression fell. “Well, whatever the case, no sense dawdling here.”
Charlotte flicked her wrists and sent the carriage lurching forward. She sat stiffly on the bench as they advanced.
The groom spotted them, nodding his head in their direction.
Samuel whipped around. She felt his gaze land on her, the hot intensity not softened by the distance between them.
The distance soon closed.
She pulled the carriage to a stop before the steep steps leading to the front door and braced herself. It was not helpful that he was so handsome. His hair was windblown from his ride, his strong features ruddy from sun and the exertion.
“Good day, Mr. Kingston,” Nora greeted cheerfully as she hopped down from the carriage, not waiting for assistance. She shot a quick glance to the late-afternoon sky. “Or should I say good evening?”
He nodded at Nora, his lips moving in some distracted fashion of greeting. Charlotte could not make out the words. Not that it mattered. She needed to be on her way. Especially considering the manner in which he stared at her.
His gaze fastened on her, his bourbon-hued eyes starkly fierce, liquid-deep . . . an ocean trying to pull her in.
Those eyes brought her back to the night she’d spent in his bedchamber, in his bed.
It was not a good idea for him to be looking at her in such a way.
He moved around to her side of the carriage and she knew he meant to help her down.
“I’m not staying,” she said tersely. Addressing Nora, she added, “Thank you for spending the day with me. I will see you soon.”
“What do you mean you’re not staying?” Samuel asked.
She battled the impulse to ignore his question. Again, it would be cowardly of her. She looked down at him. “I have moved int
o my old house.”
“You moved?” His gaze swept over her and the carriage. “I’ve only been gone for a few days and you’ve moved into your former house?”
“That is correct.”
“I don’t understand. You decided to move in earlier? Before the wedding?”
“There is not going to be a wedding.”
He blinked and sent a quick glance to Nora as though for verification. Nora gave a single nod, a small smile on her lips.
At that moment, the front door opened. Marian and Nathaniel stepped out, exchanging knowing looks.
Charlotte continued, “I don’t need to be married to follow through with my plan.”
“Good.”
“Good?” she echoed.
“Good for you.” He extended a hand toward her.
She exhaled, for some reason feeling . . . disappointed. She wanted him to declare that it was good for him. Good for him because he didn’t want her to marry anyone else. Because he wanted her.
He didn’t say that. He didn’t say any of those fanciful things she should not be thinking.
She shook her head, ignoring his proffered hand. “As I said, I am not staying.”
He dropped his hand, frowning. “I came back . . .”
“Yes. I see that.” She lifted an eyebrow. “And why is that? Why did you return?” Why did you return to shake up and upset my life?
He stared at her for a long moment. She held his stare, even as she felt the weight of her family’s focus on her. They were watching everything unfolding with rapt attention.
“I came back for you.”
Her heart gave a treacherous little leap. She inhaled and gave her heart a firm push, attempting to settle it back in her chest. “You left.”
Heat glinted in his eyes. “That was my mistake. I should not have done so. Not after . . .”
He stopped himself, but she knew what he had wanted to say. What he would have said if they were alone. Not after they had spent the night together.
He went on, “I soon realized it and turned around.” He paused. “I came back to ask you not to marry Pembroke.”
“Why?” she demanded, tightening her grip on the reins as the horses shifted restlessly.
He let out a breath of frustration. “You wanted to marry Pembroke. If that was your wish, I told myself it was not my right . . . that I should respect your decision.”
Nora made a strangled sound in her throat, as though she was trying to suppress speech.
Charlotte glared at her before looking back at Samuel. “Very noble of you,” she said with full scathing bitterness. “What changed your mind?”
“I’m not noble.” He held out his arms wide. “Not in the least. I don’t want you to marry anyone . . . except me. I came here to convince you of that. Even if I had to steal you away to stop you from marrying Pembroke.”
The world darkened, tunneling to the solitary sight of his face. There was nothing beyond it.
It was the only thing she could see. Handsome and stark and so very compelling.
Her heart wasn’t inside her chest anymore. It had burst free.
“Charlotte?”
She couldn’t find her voice. Perhaps it was a consequence of losing one’s heart.
“Charlotte?” Nora added her voice. “Did you hear him? Say something!”
Charlotte shook her head as though returning to herself. “I heard you.” She adjusted her weight on the bench. “I appreciate the offer. I cannot accept, however.”
Of course she couldn’t. He’d said nothing of love, and now she knew she would settle for nothing less.
Even if she loved him. She would not have him unless he loved her.
She had ended one betrothal because it had not been right. It had lacked love.
She would not agree to another one without the all-important ingredient of love. Affection. Passion.
“Charlie . . .”
No. She would not do this. Not stand here and be tempted by his seductive voice.
“I have said all I am going to say on the matter. There is nothing more to discuss. Good day, Mr. Kingston.”
She would not do this with him.
She especially would not do this in front of her family.
She shook her head firmly and snapped the reins. She was dimly aware of her sisters calling out farewells behind her. She did not slow down. She did not look back. She pressed on, advancing through the burn of her tears.
He had come back. He had come back and asked to marry her.
And yet he had not said the one thing that mattered. The one thing that would have made all the difference and made her think that perhaps he was doing this because living without her was an impossibility for him.
There had been no romance or affection or sentimentality as he tendered his proposal. All things she had not thought she needed before. But now she knew she did. She needed those things. She wanted them. She would have them or nothing.
She drove the rest of the way home in relative composure. She would not weep. It would not do to be seen crying by one of the neighbors. As though she had conjured her, Mrs. Pratt, the biggest gossip in the shire, waved at her from her garden. No doubt the farmer’s wife would credit any tears to her broken engagement. News of that had slowly started making its way through the village.
She could never fathom the truth. Charlotte could scarcely fathom it herself.
She, dull and proper Charlotte Langley, had a liaison with a renowned rogue, and he was still hanging about, complicating her life with public proposals. Hopefully none of the staff at Haverston Hall had overheard. She did not wish for this bit of her private life to be bandied about town.
As she passed the Pratt farmhouse, she lifted her face to the breeze. Today had not been as dreadfully hot as the weeks prior.
She took dinner in the kitchen with Gertie and Thomas. Together they made a list of things to do the following day to get the house back to rights. It was a useful distraction and a nice way to rein in her still galloping heart.
She settled into bed in the master bedchamber that night with a sense of accomplishment. She’d come far. She’d seized her life and was making good choices.
Even though she had fallen in love with Samuel, she had not accepted his offer of marriage because it was less than right . . . less than she deserved. After William, she wanted a marriage that had it all—everything.
Even though a gnawing ache persisted in her chest . . . she would not accept anything less than a love match. Nothing else. She didn’t have to marry. No one required it of her. Her sisters had long operated under this belief. Now she did, too.
This was her consolation as she drifted to sleep.
When she woke disorientated in the gloomy hours of predawn, it was not to the memory of this, however.
It was to the acrid smell of smoke.
Chapter 26
The distant tolling bell from the village woke Kingston with a jolt. The barest hint of day broke the skyline through the parted damask drapes of his bedchamber.
He flung back the counterpane and hastily donned his breeches and boots. He snatched his shirt from where he had discarded it upon undressing the evening before when he had gone to bed crushed and confused over Charlotte’s rejection. He didn’t understand why she’d refused him. Her betrothal to another no longer stood in the way, barring them from being together.
He didn’t know what the bell signified. Villages used the bells to alert everyone in the countryside of some manner of emergency. A lost child. A dangerous criminal on the loose. Some kind of disaster was afoot, that much was evident.
As he hastened down the hall, he slipped the shirt over his head. By the time he reached the first floor, most of the household was up and assembled. He approached his stepbrother in the foyer just as a footman burst through the front door.
“’Tis fire! A fire!”
Warrington flew to action. “Hines, fetch buckets!”
Marian and Nora stood on the stairs i
n their dressing robes. At this announcement, they turned and hurried up the steps, presumably to dress.
The servant who burst through the door added, “At the old Langley place!”
Everyone froze. Except Marian and Nora. They whipped back around. “At my old house?” Marian demanded.
Nora gasped and reached for her arm as though needing support. “Charlotte!”
Samuel didn’t wait for confirmation.
He vaulted through the front door and raced to the stables, fetching his mount and saddling it. Every moment felt an eternity.
The wind tore at him as he rode through the burgeoning dawn to Charlotte’s, the force making his eyes tear. At least he thought it was the wind. He couldn’t be sure. Fear coated his mouth and lodged in his throat like a stone.
Myriad thoughts flashed through his mind. Mostly how his horse couldn’t move quickly enough, and how had he ever thought this beast fast?
Dark smoke rose in great plumes against the lightening sky and panic clawed at him at this evidence that Charlotte’s house was burning. Please, God. Not with her in it.
It felt like forever before he reached the house. Flames licked out its left side. He recalled the kitchen was in that area.
There were already people there, a dozen or so passing buckets of water from the nearby well. It was all they could do, but staring at the blazing flames jutting from the kitchen’s window, he knew it would not be enough. The house was lost.
Charlotte.
He jumped from his horse. She couldn’t be in there. She couldn’t!
He stood in the yard, wildly looking around, calling her name with a desperation that burned deeper than the fire in front of him. “Charlotte!”
He didn’t see her.
With a curse, he rushed through the front gate and up the steps, ignoring those calling him to stop, pushing through the men who tried to bar him entry, barging past them as if they were insignificant gnats. Nothing could keep him from reaching Charlotte. Not mere men. Nor fire.
He charged through the door, shouting for her amidst the blinding smoke.
“Charlotte!” He held an arm up in an attempt to shield his eyes from the stinging air. His throat quickly grew hoarse, as though scraped from the inside with a blade.
Coughing, he bent low and pressed on, searching for the stairs, his mind feverishly trying to recall the layout of the house—and guessing which bedchamber she might have taken for herself.
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