16. In Which the Truth Comes Out – Ashbourne House, Grosvenor Square, London
IN WHICH THE TRUTH COMES OUT
CHARLOTTE
ASHBOURNE HOUSE, GROSVENOR SQUARE, LONDON
Iwoke the morning after the Penworth dinner knowing everything had changed.
Mama had found Edward and me on the terrace. Seen us standing too close. Known something was happening.
Edward had told her. I'd seen it in her face when she came back inside. The careful neutrality. The way she'd looked at me across the drawing room with eyes that understood too much.
And she'd said she needed to talk to Papa before I did.
Which meant by now—by this morning—Papa knew.
Knew I was in love with Edward. Knew about Ashford Hall. Knew everything.
And I still had to face both of them and explain.
Breakfast was excruciating.
Papa sat at the head of the table, reading the paper. But he wasn't reading—his eyes hadn't moved in five minutes.
Mama managed correspondence with careful focus. Too careful. Like she was avoiding looking at me.
Eleanor ate toast and watched everything with her too-perceptive eleven-year-old eyes.
"Charlotte," Mama said finally. Her voice was measured. "Your father and I would like to speak with you. After breakfast. In his study."
"Of course." My voice came out steadier than I felt.
Papa set down his paper. Our eyes met.
He knew. I could see it. The knowledge. The concern. The father trying to reconcile the daughter he knew with what Mama had told him.
I finished my tea. Stood. "I'm ready now. If you'd like."
Papa nodded. "My study, then."
We walked down the corridor in silence. Mama. Papa. Me.
The door closed behind us.
Papa settled into his chair behind the desk. Mama sat beside him. Both of them watching me.
I'd rehearsed this. Planned exactly what to say.
But looking at them now—at Papa's careful composure and Mama's concerned eyes—every prepared word evaporated.
"I know Mama told you," I said. "About Edward. About—everything."
Papa nodded. "She did. Last night. After we returned from Penworth. When did you stop calling him Uncle Edward?"
"So you know I'm in love with him. I stopped right after he came home. Everything felt different"
"Yes."
"And you know about Ashford Hall. About me riding there."
"Yes." Papa's voice was controlled. Too controlled. "Your mother explained what she knew. But Charlotte—I want to hear it from you. All of it. The truth."
I took a breath. "I don't want to marry Lord Dunmore."
"We gathered that."
"I'm in love with Edward. I have been—since he came home from the Continent. I can't name the exact moment. But it's been building for weeks."
Papa leaned back in his chair. "And Edward? Does he feel the same?"
"Yes."
"You're certain?"
"Yes."
Mama spoke for the first time. "Charlotte, when you went to Ashford Hall. When you disappeared from Ashbourne Park. Tell us what happened."
I could soften it. Could make it sound less reckless than it was.
Instead, I told the truth.
"I heard Grandpapa say Edward had gone to Ashford Hall. I decided I needed to go to Ashbourne Park. And I couldn't—I couldn't just stay at Ashbourne knowing he was close enough to reach." I met Papa's eyes. "So I rode there."
"How?" Papa's voice was sharp. "James escorted you back?—"
"James met me at Ashford Hall. I rode alone from Ashbourne Park."
The silence was absolute.
Then Papa stood. Walked to the window. Stood with his back to me.
"That's forty miles," he said quietly. "You rode forty miles alone."
"Yes."
"Charlotte." Mama's voice was sharper now. Frightened. "That's not just improper. That's dangerous. You could have been hurt. Thrown. Lost."
"I know. But I had to find him. I had to—" I stopped. "I wasn't thinking rationally. I just knew I needed to see him."
Papa turned from the window. "What happened at Ashford Hall?"
Here it was. The part I'd been dreading.
"We talked. About his mother. About the guilt he carries for her death. About—us." I took a breath. "And he kissed me."
Papa closed his eyes. "Bloody Hell."
"Lucas—" Mama started.
"No." Papa's eyes opened. "Charlotte, do you understand what you're telling me? You rode forty miles alone to find a man. Your uncle. And he—" His voice cracked. "He kissed you. You were there unchaperoned. For an entire day."
"Mrs Thornton was there. The housekeeper. I slept in the Rose Room. Edward stayed in his own chambers. Nothing beyond kissing happened."
"Nothing beyond—" Papa stopped. Sat down heavily. "Charlotte, he's twenty-three years old. You're seventeen. He should have sent you home immediately. Instead, he?—"
"He didn't seduce me, Papa. I went to him. I kissed him first. I chose this."
"You're seventeen!"
"I'll be eighteen in August!"
We stared at each other. Papa and I had never shouted at each other before. Never.
Mama stood. "Both of you. Stop."
We stopped. Breathing hard.
Mama looked at me. "Charlotte. You say you love him."
"Yes."
"And he loves you?"
"Yes."
"Has anything happened beyond kissing?"
"No." I felt my face heat. "Nothing. Edward has been—he's been trying to be noble. Trying to stay away. He disappeared for a week after Ashford Hall because he thought leaving me alone was the right thing to do."
"It was the right thing," Papa said.
"It wasn't! It was cowardly. It left me exposed to Dunmore's proposal. Left me performing composure while everyone planned a wedding I didn't want." My voice rose. "I needed him there, and he left me."
"Good. He should have stayed away."
"Lucas." Mama's voice was firm. "Listen to her."
Papa ran his hands through his hair. "Juliet, she's seventeen. She dressed in her brother’s clothes and rode forty miles alone. She spent a day unchaperoned with a man who's—" He stopped. "He's supposed to be family. He's supposed to protect her. Not?—"
"Not fall in love with her?" I asked quietly.
Papa looked at me. "Charlotte, you're my daughter."
"I know."
"I'm supposed to keep you safe."
"I am safe. With Edward. He would never hurt me."
"Wouldn't he?" Papa's voice was devastated. "He let you ride forty miles alone. Let you stay overnight at Ashford Hall. Kissed you when you're seventeen and he's twenty-three. How is any of that safe?"
"Because I wanted it! All of it. He didn’t know that I was going to ride forty miles alone!
I rode to Ashford Hall by choice. He didn’t know that I was going to kiss him!
I stayed because I had pushed Apollo, and it was too far to ride back the same day.
I kissed him because I love him." I was shaking now.
"Papa, I know this is complicated. I know it's not what you wanted for me. But I love him. And I won’t apologise for that. "
Papa stood. Walked to the window again. Stood there in silence.
Finally, he said, "Your mother told me. What Edward said on the terrace. That he's in love with you. That you were going to tell us today."
"Yes."
"She also told me she's concerned." Papa turned to face me. "She thinks—she's worried that you and Edward might be confusing rescue with love."
My stomach dropped. "What?"
Mama's voice was gentle. "Charlotte, Edward has been rescuing you all Season. From Dunmore. From awkward situations. And you—you needed rescuing. From a match you didn't want. From feeling trapped."
"That's not why I love him."
"Are you certain?" Papa asked. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like Edward gave you an escape from something you couldn't manage on your own. And maybe—maybe you're grateful for that. Maybe you think gratitude is the same as love."
"It's not gratitude!"
"How do you know?"
"Because—" I stopped. Struggled. "Because I didn't fall in love with him during the rescues. I fell in love with him in the moments between. When we talked. Really talked. About real things. Not performances, Society, or what everyone expected. Just—us."
"And Edward?" Mama asked quietly. "Why do you think he loves you?"
I looked at her. At Mama, who was Edward's sister. Who knew him better than almost anyone.
"Edward loves me because—" I stopped. "Because I see him. Really see him. Not as a burden or someone who needs to make up for existing. Just—Edward. And when we're together, he doesn't have to be noble or perfect or anything except himself."
Papa and Mama exchanged a look.
"What?" I asked.
"Charlotte," Papa said carefully. "Do you see what you just said? You need rescuing. Edward needs to rescue someone to feel worthy. You give each other what you need. But is that love? Or is that just—two people filling gaps in each other?"
The words hit like a blow.
"That's not—we're not—" I couldn't finish.
"I'm not saying you don't care for each other," Mama said gently. "I'm saying we need to be sure this is love. Real, lasting love. Not just two people who found each other at the right moment and are confusing need with want."
I stared at them both. "You're going to say no."
"We haven't decided anything," Papa said. "But Charlotte—if we do allow this, if we let Edward court you, he needs to prove it's not just about rescue. He needs to show us—and you—that he loves you for who you are. Not because you need saving."
"How is he supposed to prove that?"
"I don't know yet. But—" Papa's voice was firm. "I'm not handing over my daughter to a man who might be in love with the idea of rescuing her rather than actually in love with her."
"And if he can't prove it?"
"Then I refuse him." Papa's voice was final. "Charlotte, I know this isn't what you want to hear. But I'm your father. And my job is to protect you. Especially from mistakes you think you want to make."
I looked at Mama. "And you agree with this?"
Mama's face was pained. "I love you both.
You and Edward. And I want you both to be happy.
But happiness built on rescue and gratitude isn't sustainable.
What happens when you don't need rescuing anymore?
When the Season is over, and Dunmore is married to someone else, and you're just—living your life?
Does Edward still feel needed? Does he still love you when there's nothing to save you from? "
"Yes," I said. But my voice shook.
"Are you certain?" Mama asked gently.
I wasn't. Not anymore. Not after everything they'd just said.
"I need to think," I said. My voice was barely a whisper.
Papa nodded. "Take the time you need. And Charlotte—stay in the house today. No events. No visitors. I need to talk to Edward before this goes any further."
"You're going to talk to him?"
"Yes. This afternoon. And I'm going to ask him the same questions we've just asked you." Papa's voice softened. "If he can answer them—if he can prove this is real—then we'll consider it. But if he can't?—"
"Then you refuse him."
"Yes."
I stood. "May I be excused?"
"Charlotte—" Mama started.
"Please. I just—I need to think."
They let me go.
I walked upstairs in a daze. Went to my room. Sat at my desk with my notebook.
The page with Edward's name. With all my entries about him.
I picked up my pen. Wrote:
I told them. About Edward. About Ashford Hall. About everything.
Mama thinks we're confusing rescue with love. That Edward needs to rescue someone, and I need rescuing, and we’re giving each other what we need without realising it's not the same as love.
Papa says Edward has to prove it's real. That he loves me for who I am, not because I need saving.
What if they're right? What if I don't know the difference between gratitude and love? What if Edward and I are just—using each other without meaning to?
I closed the notebook.
Sat in my room and tried to sort through everything I felt.
I loved Edward. I was certain of that.
But was I in love with him? Or was I in love with being rescued?
Was he in love with me? Or was he in love with having someone to save?
I didn't know anymore.
And tomorrow, Papa would ask Edward the same questions.
And we'd find out if what we had was real.
Or if Mama was right, and we'd built something on rescue that wouldn't last beyond the Season.