by Wolf, Bree
Pierce chuckled, then turned to his friend as she made to step away. Perhaps Lord Pembroke could convince Pierce not to waste any more time and finally reveal to Caroline how deeply he cared for her.
Sighing, Charlaine returned to watch the children. Always had she found their unrestrained joy a healing balm for the soul. Whenever her days had been filled with darkness, whenever there had been pain too crushing to bear, Charlaine had done her best to remember her childhood, that way of living in the moment, her eyes focused only on the here and now, finding joys all around her.
The warmth of the sun.
The way the waves rolled over her feet.
The smile of someone she loved.
Laughter had always been the best medicine. Laughter and silliness. Following a hunch. Trudging through the forest or across a field. Getting her hands and feet dirty. Exhausting her limbs.
And a friend by her side.
Peter had always been that friend. Through all the losses Charlaine had suffered, Peter had been there. He had held her hand and told her that all would be well. That the sun would shine again and that laughter would return.
Now, he, too, was gone.
But, now, Charlaine had Pierce.
Somehow, the world always continued on. Somehow, a friend always found his way to her side. Charlaine was grateful for it, and it gave her the strength to continue on through the dark, knowing that one day the light would find her once more.
And then she spotted a young man standing on the other end of the terrace, his face almost identical to that of Lord Pembroke. “He must be his brother,” Charlaine mumbled to herself, remembering what Pierce had told her about their host.
Her eyes swept over the man’s tense shoulders, the hard line of his jaw and the way he stood turned away from everyone. Admittedly, Charlaine, too, stood facing out into the gardens. However, the man’s posture made Charlaine think that he was keeping himself apart intentionally. A hint of pain lingered in the way he held his hands clenched behind his back, a tension that Charlaine knew only too well.
He was grieving.
Something had plunged him into a black abyss…however, he was not trying to fight to get out. No, it seemed as though he had given up and accepted his lot in life.
Accepted the dark.
The pain.
The sorrow.
Remembering her own moments of utter desolation, Charlaine straightened her shoulders and inhaled a deep breath. It certainly would not be easy, judging from the way the muscle in the man’s jaw kept twitching. Still, whether he would admit it or not, Charlaine knew that what he needed above all else was a friend.
And since there was no one else around applying for the position, she would step up.
She would be his friend.
Perhaps Fate had sent her here this day to fill the gap in his life.
To help him.
And she would.
Chapter Seven
A Fork in the Road
Ignoring the happy voices at his back, Nathanial kept his gaze fixed on something far away. He did not know how long he stood on his own, away from others. No one missed him. No one noticed that he no longer shared in their conversations. No one called him back over.
Of course, Nathanial was not surprised.
After all, he did not have a place among these people. He wasn’t certain he wanted one. But he needed to belong somewhere, did he not? Was this where Zach had found his new home? A home that simply had no place for Nathanial? Of course, Zach would never send him away, but now everything was different.
Before, it had been the two of them side by side, hand in hand, facing the world. Now, Zach had his wife, new friends, extended family. He no longer needed Nathanial the way he had before.
It was a gloomy thought to be certain, but a true one nonetheless. And above all, Nathanial knew that he needed to face the truth.
“Hello,” a soft voice spoke to his right, and Nathanial turned to see a rather unusual woman step up to him. She was clearly not of English descent. Her hair was the darkest ebony he had ever seen. Brown eyes swept his face as she leaned against the stone balustrade. “You must be Lord Pembroke’s brother.” She smiled at him. “Do you have a name?”
Her melodious voice reminded Nathanial of Abigail, of her lies, of the many smiles she had bestowed upon him, of her betrayal. “I’m not interested,” he heard himself snap before he could stop himself. Had he not only moments ago promised he would not ruin his brother’s wedding celebration? And here he was insulting one of his brother’s guests!
Oddly enough, though, the woman did not put him in his place before storming off and sharing his lacking manners with the world. No, instead she laughed.
Not in mockery.
But in amusement.
“You’re not interested? In what? Giving me your name?” Smiling, she looked up at him. “Do you want me to guess?” Her lips curled, and she placed her right forefinger to one corner of her mouth. “Well, people only ever refer to your brother as Lord Pembroke. So, I don’t even know his last name…or yours, for that matter. Besides, last names are very dull, wouldn’t you agree?” Her gaze swept over him from head to toe. “First names then,” she mumbled. “Robert? Charles? Bernard?” Her smile turned into a bit of a wicked grin. “Igor? Spartacus? Caesar? I could go on, but you’d make it a lot easier on both of us if you simply told me.”
Taken aback by her strange response, Nathanial simply stared at her, wondering if such a woman truly existed or if he was hallucinating.
“How about this?” she said, her gaze seeking his. “I’ll tell you mine first.” Again, the corners of her mouth quirked upward. “My name is Charlaine Palmer. Now, you.”
Nathanial inhaled a slow breath. Perhaps if he answered her she would go away and leave him alone. “Nathanial Caswell.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Nathanial.” Annoyingly, her smile did not dim and neither did she show the slightest inclination to leave. “Indeed, Nathanial is much better than Igor.” Sighing, Miss Palmer turned around, her hands resting on the balustrade as her gaze swept the extensive lawns. “It is beautiful here.” She glanced up at him. “Do you enjoy England?”
Nathanial shrugged.
“I’m from Jamaica,” she told him, even though he had not asked. “And you?”
Nathanial sighed. “Boston.” Who knew what strange destinations she would start to name if he refrained from answering?
“I’ve never been there,” Miss Palmer remarked. “I’ve never been anywhere. My whole life, I spent in that one small village, saw the same beloved people every day and never contemplated leaving this small speck of land I called home.” A deep sigh left her lips, and Nathanial thought he heard something more painful lurking behind the wistfulness. “England is a strange place.”
Nathanial swallowed, wondering if Miss Palmer had somehow sensed his own reservations or if it had merely been a lucky guess. “Why are you here?” he all but growled under his breath, wishing she would simply leave him alone. Her cheerfulness made him feel even worse about his own dark mood.
“We were invited,” she told him with a sideways glance that made Nathanial wonder if she had intentionally misunderstood him.
“No, here? With me?” he clarified, no longer worried he would offend her for that seemed impossible to do. “I do believe I’ve made it clear that I do not wish to converse.”
Miss Palmer chuckled, her eyes turning back to look upon him. “That you have.”
“Then why are you still here?” he asked, trying not to look at her. Those deep brown eyes were oddly unsettling. Indeed, the whole woman was odd and unsettling.
Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she grinned at him. “Because you need me.”
His gaze snapped over to meet hers. “I beg your pardon?”
Smiling at him, she exhaled, then shook her head at him. “Quite frankly, you look in desperate need of a friend and I’ve decided to be that friend for you.”
Of all the
possible things she could have said in response to his question, this one had been nowhere among them. “You…want to be my…friend?” he asked carefully, wondering if his hearing could be impaired.
“Precisely.”
“Why?”
For a long moment, those dark brown eyes looked into his and a part of Nathanial felt as though she were looking inside of him to his core. It felt like a touch, as though she had reached out and placed her hand upon his arm.
But she hadn’t.
Miss Palmer simply stood there, an arm’s length away, her hands resting on the balustrade at her back. “Why not?” was all she said, a soft smile playing across her features.
Nathanial straightened and took a step back. “I don’t need a friend.”
“Everyone needs a friend,” she objected before she pushed off the balustrade, closing the distance he was wielding like a weapon to hold her at bay. “Pierce told me—”
“Pierce?”
“Lord Markham,” she elaborated. “I believe he is a good friend of your brother’s.” She indicated a dark-haired man who stood across the terrace, trying his utmost not to stare at Becca’s cousin, Miss Hawkins, as she walked the lawns with her parents. “He told me what happened in Boston and—”
Nathanial gritted his teeth. “Apparently, the gossips work as efficiently here as they do in America.”
The expression on her face softened. “Do you intend to misunderstand me?” Her brows rose in challenge. “Is this your way of trying to frighten me away, Nathanial? Well, if it is, I might as well inform you here and now that it won’t work and save us both some time yet again.” As Nathanial made to step away, Miss Palmer moved to prevent it, her gaze seeking his. “You might not be in a place right now where you can admit that you need someone. I can understand that. I’ve been where you are.” She swallowed. “More than once.” Her chin rose. “But I came here to assure you that everything will be all right. I promise. Whether you believe it or not, whether you want it or not, you have a friend in me. You’re not alone. I simply wanted you to know that.” A warm smile played over her lips before she turned and walked away to the other side of the terrace where she addressed the dark-haired man, Lord Markham, who still stood staring down into the gardens.
Exhaling, Nathanial all but slumped back against the balustrade, his legs suddenly feeling rather unsteady. Never in his life had he met anyone like Miss Palmer.
So outspoken.
So honest.
So insistent.
Did she truly mean what she had said?
Watching her from afar, Nathanial wondered what she could be saying to Lord Markham for it seemed that he, too, was receiving an earful of advice. The dark-haired man, on the other hand, appeared grateful. The expression upon his face whispering of a man who was in the company of a confidante.
Someone he trusted.
Did she truly mean to be his friend?
Aside from Abigail, Nathanial had never been friends with a woman. Early on, he had been certain that Abigail was the one for him and so he had never mingled, never chatted with ladies in order to gauge their interest as well as his own. Only after Abigail had broken their engagement had Nathanial found that women had begun to eye him differently. They had batted their eyes at him, casting coy smiles and seductive glances.
Nathanial had been aware that, given his financial situation, he was considered somewhat of a catch to Boston’s ladies since Abigail had broken with him. The thought had always upset him for it had only ever spoken of superficial intentions, none that spoke to him in particular but rather to his purse. No one outside his family had ever truly cared about him, and now, after Abigail, Nathanial could not help but wonder if there was something…deficient about him.
Was there something wrong with him?
Or was it the world? Could it simply not be trusted?
Sighing, Nathanial almost flinched when Miss Palmer’s dark brown gaze collided with his own as she looked over her shoulder and found him watching her. Quickly, he dropped his gaze and spun back around, his eyes fixed on the green bushes a bit away. Indeed, a much safer image to observe.
I’ve decided to be that friend for you.
Her words echoed in his mind for they were the strangest words Nathanial had ever heard. People didn’t walk up to people they had never met before and declare themselves their friend, did they? Indeed, Miss Palmer appeared to be a most peculiar woman. In all likelihood, it would be best for him to keep his distance from her.
Still, a part of him knew very well that she was right. He needed a friend.
Desperately.
But her?
Nathanial sighed. In all likelihood, her words had been meant as a jest, a tease or had simply been said in a spur of the moment. In all likelihood, he would never see her again.
Nathanial was certain of it.
Chapter Eight
As Fate Would Have It…
“Promise me, you’ll stay,” Zach insisted, his hands a comforting weight upon Nathanial’s shoulders as he looked him in the eyes. “Promise me, you’ll not return to Boston just yet.”
Reading the concern in his brother’s voice, Nathanial nodded. “Very well. I promise.”
A relieved smile came to Zach’s face and he took a step back, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. “I want you to be happy, and I truly believe that a fresh start would do you good.” A deep grin claimed his features as Becca entered the drawing room. “It’s done wonders for me.”
His wife’s green eyes glowed like emeralds as she took Zach’s outstretched hand and came to stand by his side. “Has he agreed?” she asked, then looked at Nathanial. “Are you staying?”
Clearing his throat, Nathanial nodded. “I am.” The words sounded hollow as he fought the urge to drop his gaze to the emerald ring upon his sister-in-law’s finger. It always drew his attention no matter how hard he tried to keep it fixed elsewhere. It felt like a voice deep within, whispering taunting words and drawing forth memories that twisted the knife still embedded in his heart in a most painful way. Would he never be able to rid himself of this anger? This bitterness? Or was this simply the man he was now?
“When are you leaving?” Nathanial asked in order to distract himself.
Becca smiled, utter joy dancing in her luminous eyes. “In a matter of days.” Her hands gripped her husband’s arm in eagerness. “I cannot wait.”
Zach laughed. “Neither can I.”
Nathanial felt his stomach roll, wishing he had foregone breakfast that morning. “What do you suggest I do in your absence?” he asked before the next wave of nausea could hit him. “Is there anything I can take care of? Any remodeling to oversee? Any plans to—?”
“Nothing of the kind,” Zach replied with a scoff. “You’re not here to work, Brother. You’re here to enjoy yourself.”
“Enjoy myself?” Nathanial echoed, no longer certain he knew what these words meant.
His brother laughed upon seeing a somewhat confused expression claim Nathanial’s features. “You’ve forgotten how to enjoy yourself?” He shook his head in disapproval, then exchanged one of those annoyingly meaningful glances with his wife. “I thought you might have and so I spoke to Lord Markham and asked him to show you around London.” Nathanial opened his mouth to object, but his brother pushed on. “He is a good friend of mine, someone I trust completely. He may go about certain things in a rather unusual way, but he’s always been there when I needed him.”
At his brother’s words of praise, Nathanial tried to force an appreciative smile upon his face. Inside, however, he felt like putting his fist through Lord Markham’s face. Never in his life had Nathanial felt this kind of anger that now so often sought him out. Still, it was the knowledge that he was easily replaced in every capacity, as a fiancé, a friend, a brother.
Perhaps it was not the world that was wrong. Perhaps it was truly simply him.
*
A week had passed since the Pembroke’s wedding celebra
tion, and Charlaine wondered how best to seek out Mr. Caswell. Or rather Nathanial. After all, friends should call each other by their given names, should they not?
“I believe I’ve done so already,” Charlaine mumbled to herself as she made to climb the stairs one evening, but stopped when she spotted Pierce, dressed to go out, heading downstairs toward her. “Where are you going?” He blinked, clearly lost in thought, before his eyes settled on hers. “You look quite dashing.”
Returning her smile, he held up two black masks. “A masquerade.”
Excitement snaked up and down Charlaine’s back, and she wished she could join him. “That sounds exciting! Are you going alone?” Perhaps he had plans to meet up with Caroline. It would be about time! As far as Charlaine knew, they had not spoken to each other since the day of the wedding celebration. What on earth could possibly be keeping them apart? Unfortunately, Pierce was rather tight-lipped about it.
Stepping down into the hall, Pierce turned toward the front door. “No, Pembroke asked me to take along his brother.”
Charlaine almost tripped over her feet. Nathanial at a masquerade? Granted, she had only met him once and spoken no more than a few words with the man, but still… “Does he know where you’re headed?” she asked carefully, doubting it very much.
Pierce chuckled as his footman, Jacob, helped him into his coat. “He does not.” Then he frowned, the look in his eyes slightly suspicious as he watched her. “Are you better acquainted with the man than I thought you were?”
“I spoke to him once as you well know since you were watching us.” Her brows rose in challenge.
Pierce rolled his eyes. “Guilty!” Then he strode toward the door.
Albert moved to open it. “Have a nice evening, my lord.”
Nodding, Pierce then paused in the open door, his gaze serious as he looked at Albert. “Thank you, and you know where to find me if anything important arises. Send for me immediately if you hear from the Bow Street Runners.” A dark cloud hung above his head as he spoke, and Charlaine hoped that all his inquiries would soon bear fruit and reveal further information about the night Daphne’s parents had been murdered.