“Yes, but your love is now very much requited,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “And I did try to…to tell Ewan about how I felt before.”
Meg drew in a breath as her eyes widened in surprise. “You did? When? What did he say? Why did you never tell me?”
Charlotte felt tears burning her eyes at the memory. “Five years ago. I didn’t tell you because…because he rejected me.”
Meg’s expression softened. “I’m so sorry, Charlotte.”
She shrugged. “He was lovely about it, of course. You know he could be nothing but lovely and kind. But I shall never forget his face when I told him I had feelings for him. It was like someone sucked all the blood from his veins. He just kept shaking his head, shaking his head.”
She could see him so clearly now, blond hair around his face, holding up a hand to ward her off as he staggered away.
“You must know why he would object, though,” Meg said softly.
Charlotte bent her head. “I suppose some in our circle who know Ewan well would say that it is in his nature to…hide, because of his inability to talk and the fact that his father and brothers have been so bloody cruel about it.”
“Absolutely,” Meg said with great strength.
“But,” Charlotte continued, “the one person he never hid from is me. So I must conclude that perhaps he simply didn’t want me.”
“Balderdash!” Meg said, rising to her feet. “I don’t believe that for a moment—I’ve seen the way he watches you. The way he cannot stay away from you in any room you inhabit. Heavens, you two even have that secret little language.”
“It was never meant to be a secret,” Charlotte said, explaining what she’d explained a hundred times over the years. “It was meant to make things easier for him…we just made it too complicated for anyone else to understand, I suppose.”
Meg laughed. “And that made that language yours. Yours and his, no one else’s!”
Charlotte bent her head again, staring at her hands clenched in her lap. “Yes,” she whispered. “And I won’t lie and say I don’t want him to be mine too. After he rejected me, I threw myself into the marriage mart and was wed to Nathan within a year. I didn’t hate my husband, but oh, how I regretted it. But now Nathan’s gone and I recognize that I’ve been given something most people don’t get.”
“A second chance,” Meg said, and there was such understanding to her voice. And of course there would be. She had nearly lost the love of her life, as well.
Charlotte nodded. “Yes. But this time I think I must go about it differently. Flowery confessions of love will not do.”
“Was it really flowery?” Meg asked as she wrinkled her nose.
“I was nineteen and utterly innocent beyond very romantic books,” Charlotte giggled despite the painful topic. “It may have been a little flowery.”
“So you’ll do it differently this time, with five years of experience behind you. How will you change your fate then?”
Charlotte shifted as heat flooded her cheeks. She and Meg were close and neither of them were innocents anymore, but talking about such things was still awkward.
“Well, er, you are married. And you seem happy in every way.”
Meg blinked. “What do you—oh!” Now it was her turn to blush. “Oh, I see. You’re talking about—”
“Yes,” Charlotte interrupted. “I’m talking about that. The physical. Nathan was not my love, but I cannot fault him. He did tend to my body’s needs. It may have been an afterthought, but he did it.”
“So you understand desire. You understand that you have needs,” Meg said.
Charlotte nodded. “And I think Ewan must, as well. I wonder if it would be possible to use those needs against him.”
Now Meg drew back and an expression of concern crossed her face. “Against him?”
“All’s fair, isn’t it?” Charlotte said, and she heard the faint desperation in her own tone. This was the first time she’d expressed this plan out loud to anyone, and her voice and hands both shook. “If I could make him want me, then maybe he might allow himself to care for me, too.”
Meg walked away, and she was silent for so long that Charlotte’s heart nearly stopped. She counted on her friend to be honest, and if Meg told her she was being a ninny, it would be hard to carry on. She might not do it at all, and that meant finally accepting that she and Ewan could never be.
A thought that made tears sting her eyes.
Finally, Meg faced her. “I had a similar plan when it came to Simon, you know.”
“What?” Charlotte said in shock.
Meg nodded. “Yes. After the incident when we were caught together, he was so guilty over our betrayal of Graham. He couldn’t resist me when we touched, but he pushed me away when it came to anything emotional.”
“Oh Meg, I had no idea,” Charlotte said. “I wish I had been there.”
“As do I, but your mourning precluded it, so of course I understood.” Meg sat on the settee next to Charlotte and gripped both her hands. “It was very hard to be so close to him in one way but to be pushed away in another. Especially when I only wanted to love him and to take the future I knew we could have together.”
Charlotte nodded, for she certainly understood that. “But you came through it.”
Meg sighed. “We did, at last, with a great deal of work and after nearly losing everything. But we did. And we have found happiness.”
“Anyone with eyes can see that,” Charlotte said. “But you’re still concerned about my having almost the same plan.”
Meg worried her lip. “I admit, what you’re proposing could work. But if Ewan is resistant, it could also…”
“Materially damage our friendship, as well as his relationship with Baldwin and even with Matthew. Those three are so close.” She shook her head. Here Meg had almost given her permission and it caused a flush of terror through her rather than a thrill of excitement. There was so very much on the line now. “What am I saying?” she muttered, almost more to herself than to Meg. “I’ll be in a household full of family and friends. What chance would I have to seduce him?”
Meg laughed. “You’d be surprised at the chances you can create at a house party.”
“I’m being silly,” Charlotte whispered. “He—he’ll never allow it, and as you said it could do more harm than good then.”
“I didn’t actually say that, you did,” Meg corrected.
“You!” Charlotte said, lightly swatting her friend’s arm.
Meg grabbed for her hands and held tight, suddenly serious. “I realize it’s a risk, my dear. More than anyone else, perhaps. But you deserve to be happy, and so does Ewan. If you can find that happiness together, if there is even the slimmest chance of it, I do encourage you to try. Just do it with your eyes open so you’re not hurt.”
Charlotte nodded slowly. “It’s…it’s food for thought.”
Meg smiled and leaned forward to buss her cheek. “And now I would like food for food. Simon should be back from his meeting with the solicitors in the village. Let’s find him, shall we, and see if we can convince him to have an early tea.”
Meg got to her feet and Charlotte followed slowly. But even as they linked arms and left the room together, with Meg changing the subject to something less fraught with danger, Charlotte couldn’t help but think of what they’d discussed.
And wonder if it could truly be possible to make Ewan see that bright future she’d always pictured for them. And if he did, to make him take it.
The Duke of Donburrow stood at the window of his study, staring down and down at the scene below. Ewan had grown up hating this estate, for it held nothing but bad memories of the father who had all but imprisoned him here until he was ten. But in the last three years since he finally inherited, he had to admit the place had grown on him.
The castle was large and had been well kept over the years. He’d redecorated it since the inheritance, removing almost all vestiges of
the previous duke. And no one could argue that the view wasn’t spectacular. He could see the sea from almost every window on the east facing side, and the waves always calmed him.
Except on days like today. Today there was no sea because of the storm that had swept in. Snow and sleety rain pelted the windows and swirled up to block his ocean view. It was utterly miserable outside, and getting to the house was going to be nearly impossible at this point.
It was the disadvantage in having an isolated estate—or perhaps an advantage. It kept people out. But then, castle or not, Ewan had always been very good at doing that himself. With few notable exceptions, he’d kept almost everyone out of his life.
“Your Grace?”
He turned to face his butler, Smith, with a short nod. He’d known the man most of his life, for he’d served Ewan’s father. But unlike most of the other servants who had done so—and been dismissed upon his inheritance—Smith had never treated Ewan with anything but utmost respect. They never had an issue with Ewan’s inability to speak. Smith never acknowledged it at all, aside from the occasional gentle handing over of a notebook to write in or a quick look that said he understood what Ewan needed before it required writing down.
“Anders just returned from the inspection of Waterbury Bridge.”
Ewan stepped forward. He’d been waiting for this report since the rain began that morning.
“There is some fear it may, indeed, wash out as it did last year,” Smith said.
Ewan let out a sigh before he swept up the notebook on the corner of his desk and wrote, “I see. We’ll close the roads if we must. And if it gets as bad as last year, we’ll need to sandbag and there will be evacuations of the tenants to see to.”
“Yes, sir, I’ve taken the liberty of putting together a plan we can follow if it comes to that. I already have a few strong men moving sand from the beach as we speak.”
Ewan looked out the window again for a moment, then wrote, “I would assume this means our guests will not be able to make it through.”
He handed over the paper with as much nonchalance as he could. He truly adored every person who was coming to his home for the holiday visit, but perhaps this was for the best.
“I would assume so, yes, although Lady Portsmith’s carriage did make it over. Anders left Cole behind to escort them in. She should be here within the next twenty minutes or so.”
Ewan’s heart leapt even though it shouldn’t. Even though he wished it wouldn’t. But he maintained the same cool exterior he always did as he wrote, “Very good. Let me know the moment she arrives.”
Smith nodded and left him alone again. The moment the butler had gone, Ewan pressed both hands against the top of his desk, leaning over the surface as his breath came suddenly short and hard.
Charlotte. Charlotte. Charlotte. She was his obsession. His dream. And he recalled every single moment they’d ever spent together in one blink of an eye, just as he always did. Each was seared into his mind.
But no. He could not let himself go like this. To engage in flights of fantasy was foolish. He and Charlotte were friends, that was all. It had been years since she tried to confess a deeper feeling, and in the intervening time she had married and been widowed. Certainly her mind had changed.
As for his…well, he had rejected her for a reason. The reason hadn’t changed. He was simply not capable of giving her something more.
He straightened and came around to retake his seat and look over his ledgers again. But his mind was restless and it took far more focus than it should have to get himself back into the correct mindset to work.
But then, Charlotte had always done that. And he’d have to find a way to make sure she didn’t during this visit.
Chapter Two
Charlotte tossed her maid an apologetic look as the carriage jerked on the slippery, sleety road. Sylvie’s expression was terrified and Charlotte couldn’t blame her. It was the very worst of conditions. Cold permeated the carriage and the blankets tucked around them, and rain slicked down the windows, hardening to ice within moments so that one couldn’t rightly see outside.
Not that Charlotte needed to see the house to know it. When Ewan had inherited three years ago, his aunt had insisted on a ball to celebrate. Charlotte had come with Nathan and slipped away to memorize every line and cranny of Ewan’s home.
She shook her head and reached out to touch Sylvie’s hand. “We’re almost there now, dear.”
The girl’s teeth chattered as she said, “Y-yes, my lady.”
And as if Charlotte had timed it out, the carriage came to a stop at that very moment and it rocked as their driver and footman began to climb down. Charlotte heard voices, both those of her servants and of others rushing to help. She released her maid’s hand and straightened, her heart racing as those outside struggled with the door. Finally it burst open and a swirl of cold air greeted her. She turned her face away from it, and when she looked back there was Hargrove Castle, Ewan’s estate, looming behind one of Ewan’s footmen.
“Be careful, my lady, the stairs are rightly slick,” he said as he offered her not one but two arms to support herself.
She gingerly stepped down onto the drive and stretched her back, ignoring the icy rain that slashed across her face and dampened her hair. “Home,” she whispered.
“I beg your pardon, my lady?” the young man said over his shoulder as he helped Sylvie down the same way.
“Nothing. Please do get as much help as you can with unloading. There is no rush, just be careful. I want no one hurt so that I can have extra gowns, do you understand?”
He faced her with a bow and tossed a look at the miserable driver and footman who had come through the storm. “Of course, my lady. The duke’s men will take care of everything and get your folk inside to warm up. Would you like Reggie’s help up the stairs to the house?”
She glanced at the stone steps. “No, they look as though Smith has had them salted, smart man. I should be fine. And Sylvie, go in and warm up! There is truly no rush for my things.”
Her maid nodded and followed another servant around to the back entrance of the house as half a dozen men came rushing to help unload the trunks and portmanteaus.
The door opened as she reached the top and she raced inside the warm foyer. Smith was waiting for her, and he shut out the cold and left her to drip onto his lovely, clean floor.
“Oh, Smith, we have survived,” she said, laughing as she reached up to touch her wet hair. She likely looked like a drowned rat standing before him, but he smiled at her in welcome nonetheless.
“My lady, how wonderful to see you,” he said, “May I take your coat and gloves? I do not see a hat?”
“I took it off in the carriage and like a ninny forgot all about it when I got out,” she explained. “I must have been too excited to be here.”
“And we are thrilled to have you, my lady. The roads are treacherous, we were worried.”
She nodded. “They were indeed. I thought perhaps we should stop at the inn in the village for the night, but Watson insisted he could make it. I think he regretted it almost instantly, for we slid the entire last quarter mile. I know my servants have earned a good warm meal and a rest after that.”
“We’re ready for them,” Smith assured her. “And their dinner shall be warming, indeed.”
He was likely going to ask her more. Ask her about tea or showing her to her room. But before he could, Ewan stepped into the foyer. Well, into it was going too far. He stepped up to the edge of the foyer and stopped, just staring at her from across the room.
And she stared back. She couldn’t help it. Every time she saw Ewan, he was more beautiful than the last time. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and trim hips. He had blond hair, but it was too long and he never wore it in a queue, so it fell around his face. A face he tried to cover with a beard, but that never worked. There was no covering up perfection.
His brown gaze never moved
from her and she swallowed hard as her body reacted to his presence and his stare and…just him. Always him. Only him. He was her everything, and he had been for her entire life.
She shivered and shook off her thoughts. “You are lurking, dear Ewan,” she said, forcing herself to be light and airy so he wouldn’t see that he made her shake far more than any stormy winter’s day could.
He smiled. A small smile, but it brightened his face and made him even more handsome than before. It was quite unfair, really.
Smith nodded to her. “Excuse me, my lady, I will oversee the unloading.”
He left the foyer and then they were alone. She swallowed hard as Ewan stepped closer, closer until he was right in front of her, towering over her, staring down at her and smelling of warmth and man and clean skin.
“You’re soaked,” he finger-signed in the old language they had concocted over the years. It had been meant to make it easier for him to communicate with his friends, but it had become so complicated that no one else seemed to be able to learn it.
And so, as Meg had suggested a week ago, it was theirs.
She shifted at the words he’d used. If only he knew. She was soaked, but not just from the storm. She wanted him. His double entendre, even if it was unintended, did not help matters.
“I am,” she whispered, her voice husky in the quiet room.
There was a flicker over his face and then it was gone. He swiftly spelled out, “Smith will see to everything. Let me show you up to your room so you can get warm.”
She nodded. “That would be wonderful, thank you, Ewan.”
They stood for a breath, and then he slowly extended his elbow. She reached for him, everything coming in half-time, and when she touched him, her body jolted with electric awareness. It was always like this with him.
He guided her through the foyer and up the stairs as she said meaningless words about the roads and the weather and the bridge that one had to cross to get to his estate.
The Silent Duke Page 2
