by Ella Edon
“Indeed,” Kenneth murmured, his mind reeling. He had long since accepted the fact that he could not have Charlotte, that he should not have her, in his life. There had been one wild, joyful moment while Roger was explaining his suggestion, where Kenneth had indulged in the piercingly sweet thought that his uncle might tell him to wed Charlotte. It could never be, and he would not have complied even if that had been Roger’s intent. But oh, it had been an exquisite picture. Still, he reflected, he had missed Charlotte’s friendship terribly ever since he had removed himself from her presence. He had never dared to hope that he might once more enjoy her company and conversation. There had been many times that he had read something and longed immediately to share it with her, to hear her perspective. Perhaps, he considered ruefully, a good deal of his reluctance to return home had been, without his realizing it, due to the fact that the move would bring him so much closer to a friendship he could not in good conscience rekindle.
But to wed Louisa! Kenneth could scarcely picture such a thing. If simply returning to Rutherford Hall was painful due to the estate’s proximity to his oldest friend, how much more tortuous would it be to actually marry into her family and be forced into her company on a regular and intimate basis? It was not to be considered.
“I hope you aren’t angry with me for speaking with the Earl on your behalf? It was nothing binding, I assure you,” Roger spoke tentatively, unable to read the series of expressions that were crossing his nephew’s striking face.
“Of course I’m not angry with you, Uncle,” Kenneth avowed quickly, hating to see his uncle’s apprehension. He must have looked quite fierce as he contemplated the idea, he realized, and attempted to smooth away his scowl. “How could I feel anything but gratitude towards you? I know your actions are always guided by your affection for me.”
“Excellent, then! Perhaps we can call on the Earl together quite soon. Tomorrow, even.”
“I said I was not angry with you for speaking to the Earl, not that I would do your bidding blindly,” Kenneth corrected as gently as he was able. “I have only this night accepted the inevitability of marrying at all, something that I have always been most vehemently opposed to. I do not think you can reasonably expect me to return to this estate I loathe, upend what I assure you is a long and deeply cherished resolution, and decide on a bride all in one day. Even if I were capable of doing all that without taking time for consideration and reflection – which I am decidedly not – I seriously doubt that Louisa Warwick would be my choice of a bride.”
“Certainly, I was getting ahead of myself, dear boy. I am only too hasty to see you settled and content, you know. Taking time for reflection is quite wise indeed. But whatever reason can you have against Miss Warwick? She is a beauty, as I have said, and considered charming and accomplished.”
“Nevertheless, I do not think we should suit one another at all,” stated Kenneth firmly. “Perhaps you can think of another possible bride or two to recommend to me. But for now I must beg your pardon, I am quite overcome with fatigue.”
“Heavens yes, it’s shockingly late and you’ve had a long and taxing day. I’ll take my leave of you, and of course I shall think of the other eligible young ladies you might consider,” Roger rose hastily as he spoke, looking concerned. “Do get some rest, nephew.”
Rest, Kenneth thought sardonically to himself some hours later as he prowled the dark passageways of his ancestral home, was not something he expected to find in Rutherford Hall. To the housekeeper’s dismay he had flatly refused the use of his father’s chamber, as there could be nothing more loathsome to his sensibilities than occupying the den of that monster. He hadn’t fared much better in the rooms that she had scurried to prepare for him, but then that was scarcely a surprise. Sleep hadn’t even overtaken him before the nightmare began this time.
Now he wandered restlessly, unwilling to admit to himself that he was afraid to close his eyes. It had been simpler when he was a child, able to slip out on warm summer nights and find some measure of peace in resting beneath the night sky, away from the ghosts that haunted him indoors. Such behavior would be too eccentric as a grown man, and he knew the neighborhood was already avid to discuss him.
Kenneth realized with a start that he had walked down the corridor that led to his mother’s chamber, quite without conscious intent. He froze before the closed doorway, his heart pounding in his chest. He had not returned to this spot since that terrible night, except in dreams. It was odd to realize how perfectly accurate and detailed those dreams had been, how little that ominous doorway had changed. If he allowed it, Kenneth was positive he would hear echoes of his own frightened cries. Involuntarily, his hand reached towards the doorknob, but the instant his fingertips brushed the metal he jerked back as if stung.
Turning aside with a vicious oath, he stalked decisively down the shadowy halls to the library, hoping to drift yet again through the pages of a book until he finally nodded off in his chair. He paused at a window on the landing, the one he had loved the most as a boy because from it he could catch a glimpse of Charlotte’s home. On nights when he could not escape from his dreary prison, Kenneth had always found a moderate amount of solace just in gazing at the warm, twinkling lights of Warwick Manor. However irrational it may have been, those lights seemed to promise that all was well, and they had reassured him that hope and love could still be found someplace in the world.
The long-forgotten sense of comfort struck him once again, more profoundly than it ever had as a boy. A faint smile twisted Kenneth’s sensuous mouth for a moment at the thought that he might be welcomed among those lights and counted as family – if he could bring himself to follow his uncle’s suggestion. Of course that was out of the question.
Unbidden and shameful, the thought occurred to him now that if he were wed to Charlotte’s sister, whom he could never even begin to love, he could safely be near Charlotte as her brother-in-law. There would be no temptation to throw his resolutions and cautions to the winds and explore his feelings for her, and he could treat Louisa with more affection than he might risk on any other bride, knowing that anything he felt for her would be mere appreciation that she had given him access to Charlotte’s company. Louisa would, in all likelihood, be safe as his wife, and Charlotte would be both safe and near to him.
Kenneth manfully suppressed the thought, shuddering at his own selfishness. He could scarcely repay the Warwick’s old kindness to him by placing their daughter in danger by marrying her. Even on the slight chance that she might be physically safe from him, it seemed rousingly unfair to marry Louisa with his heart rebelliously harboring a forbidden affection for her sister. Of course, that would be the case for whichever hapless young lady he brought himself to wed, but it was surely worse to inflict such a situation on a sister. Kenneth leaned his forehead against the cool glass windowpane, feeling more isolated than ever.
Chapter Four
Charlotte curled herself tidily in the moonlight-drenched window seat, sliding a comb through her long, silken brown tresses. Combing her hair was only an excuse, she knew perfectly well, as her maid had already performed that task thoroughly before retiring. But Charlotte was too unsettled to even consider sleep, and her restless hands needed to busy themselves with something. She had maintained a calm and poised countenance all evening, despite her inner turmoil, and her family was too well used to her dreamy, abstracted moods to notice that she had been more remote than usual.
Louisa had noticed, of course, but Louisa knew the reason better than Charlotte would have liked, and would never bring her sister pain by drawing attention to her silence. She had not even attempted to catch Charlotte alone, and Charlotte knew she had been longing to. No one understood her and accepted her quite like Louisa, Charlotte reflected with a grateful smile.
Kenneth had, whispered an antagonistic voice in her mind. Charlotte accepted the wrench of pain at the thought, just as she accepted the truth of it. Kenneth Blackmore had been the only other person who had truly
known and valued her – until he hadn’t. She had grown too familiar with the idea to rebel against it any longer, just as she did not bother to rebel against the knowledge that she had always and would always love him. Only him.
She could live knowing that she loved someone who had scorned her, after all she had done so with near contentment for quite a few years. It was just something of a wrench to know that he had returned and that she would be forced to have those feelings stirred up more frequently by his nearness. Well, no, it wasn’t just that. Charlotte was always unflinchingly honest with herself, and she wouldn’t allow herself to hide from her true feelings now. What had always rankled horribly was the fact that she didn’t know why Kenneth had cast her aside so abruptly and so cruelly. She had tormented herself with speculations on the subject for years, but had never felt satisfied that she had solved the mystery. Had she said or done something hideously offensive without being aware? She had never been able to think of what it might have been. They had been the closest and dearest of friends until one day he was as cold and distant as if they had never met, had never shared countless hours of conversation and companionship.
The theory she thought most likely was also the one that hurt the most. She must have let slip somehow, foolish and naive young girl that she had been, that she loved Kenneth as more than a friend. Something in her expression or tone or words had betrayed her, and he had been repulsed. He must have decided it was a kindness to show her beyond a shadow of a doubt that her feelings were unwelcome, that she might learn to put them aside. It was a kindness, for all it hurt her, she supposed. At least she had never suffered from any lingering hope that he might care for her.
“There, I knew you wouldn’t be sleeping,” Louisa whispered, slipping into Charlotte’s bedchamber. “Have I left you alone to think long enough?”
“Oh, Louisa, I was just thinking how fortunate I was that you know me well enough to let me alone when I need it. I’m ever luckier than I realized, since you know me well enough, to keep me from brooding too long,” Charlotte laughed a little shakily, dashing a tear from her eyes.
“I hate to see you sad, so I can’t be expected to leave you to dwell on your woes any longer than this. I can guess what you were thinking of that made you cry, but tell me all the same.”
“I was wondering if I will ever know what exactly I did wrong that made Kenneth despise me so suddenly.”
“You did nothing wrong! He was a brute to treat you so coldly. Perhaps it is in his nature, you know. I’ve heard the most shocking rumors about his father.”
“You always hear the most shocking rumors,” Charlotte scolded mildly. “I can’t imagine how.”
“Well, you know, people don’t say nearly so many wicked things in your presence, love. I suppose everyone knows I enjoy a good hateful rumor and they sense that you are too kind and pure for such things.”
“What nonsense!”
“Is it?” Louisa smiled tenderly at her sister. “I can’t recall a time ever in your life that your sensitive and sympathetic nature didn’t render you unable to speak an unkind word. Which is yet another reason that His Grace, the Duke of Rutherford, was a brute to be so hateful to you.”
“I think he must have suspected my feelings for him and, knowing he could not return them, was kind enough to end our friendship so I would not cherish any foolish fancies.”
“Trust you to attempt to paint his actions in a generous light! That alone proves my point just now. Besides, what sane man wouldn’t return your affection, Charlotte?”
“Perhaps a sane man who saw that I should never live up to the beauty of my mother and sisters,” Charlotte suggested with a wry smile. “It would be difficult to blame anyone for not wanting to be saddled with the ugly duckling of the family, after all.”
“I won’t allow anyone to speak so of my sister, why would you think I would tolerate such an attitude from you?” Louisa demanded furiously, outrage making her look as fierce as a tiger for a moment.
“Oh, Louisa, you know I don’t mind that people say and think those things,” Charlotte protested. “And it is perfectly true that I did not inherit the same style and measure of beauty as the rest of you. It has never bothered me for a moment, not really. I am happy with myself – my character and my mind, and my appearance as well. I am only attempting to understand the cause for Kenneth’s abrupt change towards me.”
“Attempt no longer, dearest, it is clear to me that the cause is supreme idiocy and ingratitude,” Louisa stated decisively, hugging her sister close. “He doesn’t deserve another moment of your time, and you must stop worrying and wondering this instant. If ever we are forced into his company I will make sure you don’t have to spend even a second near him, how does that sound?”
“That sounds exactly like my fierce and loving sister,” laughed Charlotte, resting her head on Louisa’s shoulder contentedly. Louisa was right about one thing, at least, Charlotte decided. It was pointless to concern herself any further with her old friend.
Chapter Five
Rain drummed monotonously against the windowpanes and the sitting room clock ticked loudly, highlighting the tedium of the afternoon. Charlotte had thought earlier that day that the gloomy weather, which was a sudden and unpleasant change from the fine early autumn weather they had been enjoying, suited her mood perfectly. However, with Jerome Cooper paying a call on her, she had changed her mind. If the weather had been fine, they would at least have been able to go for a walk about the grounds and the activity would have made the awkwardly prolonged pauses in conversation less noticeable. Now they were restricted to the sitting room, and it was achingly clear that they had little to say to one another.
Her mother, Lady Warwick, had tucked herself discretely into a corner seat, ostensibly to answer some correspondence. Charlotte knew she was pleased to have occasion to chaperon her plainest daughter, and she doubted that her mother would have interfered if Jerome had attempted to take any liberties. Being Jerome, however, that was unlikely to happen.
“Frightful weather today,” Jerome remarked – redundantly, Charlotte thought, considering the fact that he had commented on the weather twice already in the past quarter hour. Out of his line of vision, Louisa mimed stabbing him with her delicate silver embroidery scissors, making Selina and Tereza stifle giggles.
“I suppose we must resign ourselves to giving up our lovely out of doors habits until the spring,” Charlotte responded, taking pity on him. After all, there was nothing terribly wrong with poor Jerome other than a certain blandness of manner. “As much as I hate that, I confess I do love the prospect of spending more time reading by the fire in the library.”
“You are a remarkably well-read young lady, Miss Charlotte,” he smiled indulgently at her. “I have always thought it a very admirable quality of yours.”
“I confess, there is little I like better than to lose myself in a good book, Mr Cooper. I always feel that I can go anywhere at all in the world, have grand adventures, think unexpected new things. There is nothing like it. Have you found the time to read the book I lent you last week?”
“I fear I have not, being so consumed with some promising new business dealings that I have engaged in. But the volume rests on my desk and every time my eye lights on it I am reminded most tenderly of its charming lender.”
A warm and intimate look came into his eyes, and a certain caressing tone into his voice. Although before now she had always found a way to gently rebuff or redirect Jerome any time he made lover-like speeches, Charlotte hesitated now and considered him for a moment as if she had never met him before in her life.
Jerome Cooper was, objectively, a fine-looking man of four and twenty years, with thick brown hair, hazel eyes, and a slender build. He was invariably well-dressed and carefully groomed, evidently aware that as a man of no title he needed to take advantage of every opportunity to display his wealth. He wasn’t as insufferable as Louisa maintained, but he might very well be hopelessly dull. Still, Charlotte
considered, he had always treated her with kindness and deference, giving his attentions markedly to her rather than to any of her sisters. Perhaps it might be a good idea to encourage him a little, to spend time exploring the idea of a match between them.
“That is a very flattering sentiment, Mr Cooper,” she murmured, lifting her eyes to his for a moment and then dropping her gaze demurely to her lap. “I know you must be quite busy with your business obligations, it is a wonder that you have any time at all to spare a thought for me.”
“I spare my thoughts for very little else besides you, Miss Charlotte,” Jerome said enthusiastically, pleased at her encouragement. “I cannot claim to begrudge the time I spend on my duties and tasks, for I take great pride in increasing my holdings and managing my affairs. Yet thoughts of you seem to fill every spare moment I have.”
“That seems no great mark of affection, Mr Cooper,” Louisa interjected, unable to keep silent any longer. “You forget, young ladies want to be told that the very idea of them consumes a gentleman’s every moment, waking and sleeping, and reduces him to a lovelorn creature unfit for any profitable venture.”
