How to Turn a Frog into a Prince

by Wolf, Bree

  As though on cue, Charlaine spotted Caroline stepping into the entrance hall in that moment, dressed in a stunningly beautiful gown, her parents by her side, pride shining in their eyes. “I do believe your own chance for happiness has just arrived, and it would seem she’s already made a decision of her own,” she told Pierce, enjoying the way his gaze widened and he drew in a shuddering breath.

  Squeezing his hand in reassurance, Charlaine cast him an encouraging smile and then stepped away, certain that Pierce was not fool enough to let Caroline slip through his fingers tonight.

  As all guests turned to the entrance hall, their jaws dropping as they stared at Miss Caroline Hawkins, no longer hiding behind those thick spectacles and another one of her mousey-gray frocks, Charlaine cut her way through the crowd, eyes fixed on Nathanial Caswell.

  His gaze narrowed when he saw her head in his direction. Then he quickly stepped away, moving in the opposite direction.

  Charlaine stopped in her tracks as she watched him slink off, obviously determined to avoid her. “Oh, no,” she mumbled. “You’re not getting away.” Then she spun on her heel, retreated a few steps and slipped out onto the terrace.

  As expected, it stretched around the large chamber to another set of double doors. They, too, stood open, allowing the air to circulate. A number of guests—those as of yet unaware of Miss Hawkins’ marvelous transformation—stood on the terrace or promenaded through the gardens. Torches had been lit here and there, illuminating the paths cutting through the lawn.

  Breathing in the fresh night air, Charlaine quickly moved down toward the open doors and arrived just in time to see Nathanial push out of the crowded ballroom. His face was taut, and he looked over his shoulder as though he felt hunted. Then he proceeded across the terrace toward the gardens beyond.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Caswell,” Charlaine called softly. “But do you have a moment?”

  At the sound of her voice, Nathanial stilled and his shoulders slumped in what seemed like defeat. Clearly, he had never been pursued by a determined female before!

  Then he breathed in deeply and slowly turned to face her. By the time his blue eyes settled on hers, Charlaine had crossed the small distance between them. “What do you want?” he snarled, that muscle in his jaw twitching sharply as he fought to remain in control. Quite obviously, he was a lot more furious than he let on.

  Certain that there was nothing she could say to sway how he felt about her right here and now, Charlaine decided to be bold. “Come with me,” she whispered with a teasing smile and then looped her arm through his and pulled him along.

  His body tensed, and she could feel his reluctance in the way he kept trying to fight her. However, short of digging in his heels, there was little he could do. It would seem she had caught him off guard, and Nathanial Caswell was a gentleman, nothing if not accommodating to a lady’s wishes.

  To fight her, he would have to fight his own sense of right and wrong and he was not quite up to the task yet. Charlaine knew she was using his weakness against him. However, there would be no point in talking to him surrounded by the English ton.

  Indeed, open words were needed, something the English upper crust seemed altogether incapable of.

  “Where are we going?” Nathanial gritted out as she all but dragged him down the path and then made a turn that would no doubt lead them to a more solitary spot. Thick bushes grew into tall hedges, and the sounds of the ball began to dim as they moved onward.

  Satisfied, Charlaine stopped, released his arm and turned to face him. “I’m so very sorry,” she said as her voice broke and her jaw began to quiver for she finally realized how much losing him would hurt her. “I’m so, so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  A Promise Given

  Caught off guard for the second time that night, Nathanial stared at Miss Palmer.

  Thick tears stood in her eyes and a slight tremor gripped her jaw as she held his gaze. Her arms had wrapped around herself, and her hands were gripping her upper arms with such force that Nathanial felt certain she would find bruises come morning.

  His heart went out to her. Nathanial could not prevent that any more than he could prevent the sun from rising. Still, he willed himself to stand his ground, remembering the tears Abigail had cried upon finding herself betrayed by Lord Mortimer.

  Back then, she, too, had apologized to Nathanial, voiced her regret and asked for his forgiveness. But it had only been regret for the disappointment of her own hopes, not for betraying him.

  “Very well, I forgive you,” Nathanial said, his tone flat and emotionless. “May I leave now?” His brows rose in question, in challenge, in…curiosity. Would her tears be dried that easily? Or would she fight for more?

  Abigail had not.

  Miss Palmer drew in a slow breath, then quickly wiped at her tears. “I cannot believe I’m crying,” she whispered as a disbelieving chuckle escaped her lips. “I barely know you, and yet…” She drew in a deep breath and then stepped toward him. “Nathanial, I’m deeply sorry because I understand now how deeply I hurt you last night. I should have told you who I was, but…”

  Nathanial knew he ought to leave, that it was foolish of him to stay and give her the chance to lie to him again. Still, his feet would not move. “Then why didn’t you? You knew who I was the moment you spoke to me, did you not?”

  Miss Palmer nodded. “Pierce told me that you were accompanying him to the masquerade.” A smile teased her lips. “I instantly decided I needed to go as well and so I sent a message to Caroline, to Miss Hawkins.”

  Leave! Now! His mind urged, afraid of the warmth that teased his heart at her words. And yet, Nathanial stayed. “Why?” he gritted out.

  Her dark eyes lingered on his for a long moment. “Because I wanted to see you.”

  Nathanial swallowed. “Why?” Suspicion rang in his voice, and yet, there was no reasonable foundation for it, or was there?

  Of course, Nathanial had become aware of the whispers and stares that followed Miss Palmer whenever she made an appearance somewhere. It reminded him of his brother’s letters. As an American, Zach had not been welcomed into English society with open arms, either. Nathanial, too, felt their cautious looks on occasion, trying to gauge his worth, to determine whether or not he would fit into their midst.

  The verdict on Miss Palmer’s exclusion, however, was definite and final. Was that why she was pursuing him? Was she hoping for a proposal, knowing an English gentleman would never dare make her his wife? Was that why she had kissed him?

  Nathanial gritted his teeth, hating that the memory of their moment together was now tainted with betrayal and falsehood.

  “What was her name?” Miss Palmer asked, something knowing lurking in her warm, brown gaze as she moved closer.

  Nathanial swallowed, unsettled by the familiarity that had no right to linger between them. “Pardon me?”

  “The woman you were to marry, what was her name?”

  Shocked by her words, Nathanial felt his hands ball into fists. “Who told you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Nathanial glared at her. “I’d appreciate it if you would refrain from addressing me in the future.” Then he made to stride past her.

  Miss Palmer, however, stepped in his path. “I’m not her,” she told him, those dark eyes of hers once more looking at him as though they had known each other forever. “I did not betray you. Yes, I…withheld the truth, and I’m sorry for that.” When he opened his mouth to object, she lifted a hand to stop him. “I did nothing to warrant this kind of distrust. It was her, not me.”

  Always had Nathanial been a reasonable man, and thus he could not fail to acknowledge that her words made sense. They also rang true. Still… “Why did you not tell me who you were?”

  Her eyes moved and the expression upon her face changed, became more relaxed, relieved even. “When we first met at Pembroke Hall,” she began, her voice kind and companionable as though she truly were speaking to
a friend, “you had that same distrust in your eyes I see tonight. But at the masquerade, when I came to your rescue, you…did not.” A slow smile teased her lips, and her eyes shone with open delight. “I could see that your heart was open, that you looked at me and wanted to see someone who cared. You cannot deny that you liked me last night.”

  Indeed, Nathanial could not deny it. He had liked her, but would it be wise to admit to it? Would it not make him vulnerable? Give her power over him? After all, he still did not know why she was pursuing him so relentlessly? “I did…like you.” Nathanial was no man for falsehoods, not even in his own defense.

  He never had been.

  And he had paid for it dearly.

  Still, a man needed to stand by his principles, did he not?

  “Perhaps that made it worse,” Miss Palmer remarked, a thoughtful look upon her face. “You opened your heart…and now you feel betrayed again.” Sadness stood in her eyes. “It gives you reason to shut others out. But if you do, you’ll also never experience moments like last night.” The memory of their shared moment lingered upon her face, and Nathanial could not help but feel that she, too, savored it.

  “Why did you not tell me?” he asked, afraid his heart would open to her once again should he not give it reason enough to be cautious.

  “I was afraid you would not speak to me if you knew who I was,” Miss Palmer replied without a moment’s hesitation. But did that mean she was being honest? The sad reality was that Nathanial no longer trusted himself to tell a lie from the truth. “I was afraid that you would turn around and walk away.”

  “Why would you care?” Bitterness clung to Nathanial’s words; even he knew that. “I am no one to you.”

  Miss Palmer looked at him then in a way no one ever had before. There was something in her gaze that made him squirm, that made him want to run away, afraid she might be able to see to his core…and find him lacking. As Abigail had. “That’s not true.” Her words were soft-spoken, but rang with a vehemence that almost knocked Nathanial off his feet. “We may not know each other well, but you’re not no one to me. I said that I wanted to be your friend, and I meant it.”

  Staring down at her, Nathanial was overcome with a strange and altogether unfamiliar emotion: longing. He wanted what she was offering. He wanted her to be his friend. He wanted to trust her. To confide in her. To have someone who cared about him.

  Nathanial’s life had become lonely after Zach had left for England two years ago. Then he had lost Abigail and, with her, his place in the world. Everything was different now, looked different, felt different as though he had gone to sleep and woken up in a world not his own.

  “How can I trust you?” Nathanial asked, knowing how vulnerable that question alone made him. “You chose to lie when you could have simply spoken the truth.” Deep down, Nathanial knew that his insistence was nothing more than a test. He needed to see if she would be offended by his words, if she would lose patience with him, if she would turn and walk away.

  Or would she stand and fight through his stubbornness?

  Nathanial’s heart leaped with joy when he saw the corner of her mouth turn into a wicked smile. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you failed to identify yourself as well.” Her brows rose in a teasing challenge. “Why did you not simply give me your name and ask for mine?”

  Nathanial shrugged. “It was a masquerade.”

  Her smile broadened, and he realized that he had just weakened his own argument. “Precisely.”

  “But you knew who I was while I did not know who you were,” he insisted stubbornly.

  Miss Palmer crossed her arms in front of her chest, her eyes narrowing as she regarded him. “And at no point did you have an inkling that it could be me? Am I so forgettable?”

  Nathanial did not know how to reply. Had he offended her? Or was she toying with him? “I did not know.”

  “But I promised to be your friend, did I not?” Miss Palmer stated. “Did you not expect to see me again?”

  Nathanial sighed. “People make promises all the time, but only keep very few. I know what you said at Pembroke Hall, but I admit I did not believe you. And then the days passed and—”

  A luminous smile claimed Miss Palmer’s face. “Did you want me to reach out to you?”

  Nathanial’s teeth ground together, forbidding him from answering.

  “Well, be that as it may, but I did reach out to you.” Again, her brows rose, her brown eyes looking into his. “At the masquerade. I came for you. I told you that my father called me Charlie, did I not?”

  Indeed, she had. “But what of your accent?”

  “What of yours?” she fired back.

  Nathanial ignored her just reasoning. “I would have recognized you in an instant had you—”

  “Why should I make all the effort?” Miss Palmer demanded, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “In a friendship, both sides give and take.”

  Nathanial frowned. “Are you toying with me?”

  Miss Palmer laughed, then took a step toward him, her watchful eyes lingering on his. “Why don’t you ask me what it is you truly wish to know?”

  Nathanial tensed. “I did.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Of course, I did.”

  She shook her head. “No, you didn’t.”

  Nathanial threw up his hands. “Then why don’t you tell me what you think I wish to know?”

  A slow smile curled up the corners of his mouth, and Nathanial felt his breath lodge in his throat even before she had spoken a single word. “You’re wondering why I kissed you, of course.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  In Need of a Friend

  Oh, Nathanial went endearingly pale as her words found their way to him!

  Charlaine wanted to hug him. Indeed, he was not a good liar, a quality she appreciated in a friend. Still, he was also one who did not show his affections openly, afraid they would make him vulnerable. That was clear as day.

  What was also clear as day was that he wanted her to be his friend. More than that, he needed her to be his friend. There was an almost desperate need in his eyes. However, he would not allow himself to give in to that longing as long as he feared her offer was not genuine.

  Hence, the endless game of questions and answers.

  His gaze veered from hers, and he took a step backward, his arms swinging to link behind his back.

  “Tell me her name,” Charlaine offered, curious to see what he would do, “and I will tell you why I kissed you.”

  Nathanial’s eyes returned to meet hers, and she could see that muscle in his jaw twitch. Indeed, it was a telltale sign that deep emotions were stirring under that calm surface of his. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

  Charlaine chuckled. Still, the dark suspicion in his gaze made her heart ache. “I’m offering a trade. Remember, give and take? The foundations of any good friendship.” She lifted her chin and held his gaze. “The choice is yours. Far be it from me to pressure you.”

  Turning away, Charlaine looked up at the small patch of sky visible from among the tall-growing hedges in Lord Hawthorne’s gardens. The stars twinkled like diamonds, but looked pale in comparison to the sliver of moon that hung upon the black canvas overhead. Still, the sight was one of sheer beauty and Charlaine drew a deep breath into her lungs, welcoming the slight chill of the night air as it tickled her nerves. Then she spread her arms as she had the night before at the masquerade and began to twirl in a small circle.

  Her feet moved slowly as she kept her eyes fixed upon the moon, marveling at its beauty, the mystery that surrounded it, the many questions that still demanded answers.

  “Abigail.”

  Her feet stilled the moment Nathanial’s voice, harsh and curt, drifted to her ears, and she turned to look at him.

  His gaze remained on hers, but his teeth ground together, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Her name is Abigail.”

  Charlaine nodded. She felt cherished, knowing how hard answering her had bee
n for him, knowing that he had only done so because, deep down, he did not want her to go. “Thank you.” Her voice was gentle as she approached him, her eyes never leaving his while his own moved from hers again and again…but always returned. “I kissed you,” she told him and, this time, he did not look away, “because I was curious to know what it felt like.”

  His gaze narrowed in suspicion, in doubt. “I don’t believe you.”

  Charlaine had all but expected this. “Then why do you think I kissed you?”

  Again, his lips thinned. “Women always have an agenda. They—”

  “Oh, and men do not?” she dared him. “Do you truly believe that I wanted to trap you into marriage? Because that is what you’re saying, is it not?”

  Nathanial swallowed, and that muscle in his jaw twitched furiously.

  Holding his gaze, Charlaine said, “I would never marry a man I do not love.” She chuckled. “You could propose to me right here and now, and I would refuse you.”

  The frown upon his face slowly dissipated as he watched her, weighing each word she spoke.

  “I want to be your friend,” Charlaine said, “not your wife.” A slow grin stole upon her face before she lifted her right hand and solemnly swore, “I promise I will never kiss you again. There? Do you feel safe now?”

  Nathanial laughed.

  In truth, it was probably no more than a chuckle. To Charlaine’s ears, however, it was hope.

  Closing his eyes, Nathanial hung his head, disbelief and confusion marking his features. Still, a tentative smile claimed his lips as he looked up to stare at her once more. “You’re mad.”

  Charlaine shrugged. “People occasionally comment in this manner. I do believe madness is a very subjective term, which highly depends upon one’s perspective.” She moved toward him, then held out her hand. “I promise you brutal honesty if you agree to a friendship between us.”