20. In Which a Gentleman Makes His Own Plan – Ashford House, London #2
But it was better than doing nothing. Better than just waiting and hoping Lucas would believe me.
I needed one more thing. Something to show Charlotte I was serious. That this wasn't just about proving something to Lucas. It was about us.
I turned to a fresh page.
Wrote:
Why I love Charlotte (to tell her)
Not a list for myself. A letter. Something I could give her. Something that proved I'd been paying attention.
I started writing:
Charlotte,
I love that you're honest. That you don't perform. That when you think something is ridiculous, you say so.
I love that you see patterns no one else sees. That you can look at a room and know immediately who's interested in whom.
I love that you collect small things. Shells and flowers and bits of ribbon. Things that matter for reasons you can't always explain.
I love that you hate embroidery but do it anyway because your mother asked.
I love that you play pianoforte badly and don't care.
I love that you're funny without meaning to be.
I love that you have opinions about everything.
I love that you keep a notebook. That you write everything down.
I love that you're stubborn. Impossibly stubborn.
I love that you rode forty miles to tell me you loved me.
I love you. Not because you rescued me from guilt. Not because you make me feel needed. Not because you're Charlotte. And that's enough.
I read it over. It felt inadequate. Incomplete. But it was honest.
And maybe honesty was enough.
I folded the letter. Set it aside. Looked at my plan.
Four steps. Specific. Achievable. Designed to prove I saw Charlotte. Knew Charlotte. Loved Charlotte for who she was.
Now I just had to do it.
But first, I needed to talk to someone who knew Charlotte better than anyone.
I needed to talk to Juliet.
I found Juliet in her sitting room at Ashbourne House the next afternoon.
She looked up when I entered. "Edward. I wasn't expecting you."
"I need your help," I said.
"With what?"
"With proving this is real. That I love Charlotte for who she is, not what she does for me."
Juliet gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit. Tell me what you're planning."
I sat. Explained my plan. The book. The museum. The letter. The social call lessons.
Juliet listened without interrupting. When I finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
"You've been paying attention," she said finally.
"I have. I just—I haven't shown it. I've been so focused on rescuing Charlotte that I forgot to show her I see anything else."
"And this plan—this is how you'll show her?"
"Yes. But Juliet—" I leaned forward. "I need to know if this is enough. If doing these things will prove to Lucas that this is real."
"I don't know if anything will convince Lucas until he sees it for himself. But Edward—" Juliet's voice softened. "This isn't really about Lucas, is it? This is about Charlotte. About showing her you see her."
"Yes."
"Then do it. Not to prove something to Lucas. Do it because Charlotte deserves to know you've been paying attention. That you love her for who she is."
"And if it's not enough? If Lucas still refuses?"
"Then you try again. And again. Until he believes you." Juliet paused. "But Edward—you also need to ask yourself something."
"What?"
"If Charlotte stopped needing rescue—if Dunmore married someone else tomorrow and the Season ended and there was nothing left to save her from—would you still love her?"
The question hit like a punch.
Would I?
I thought about it. Really thought about it.
Charlotte without the Season. Without Dunmore. Without crisis.
Just Charlotte. Reading in the library. Playing pianoforte badly. Collecting shells. Having opinions about tea.
"Yes," I said. "I'd still love her. Because that's who Charlotte is. Not the girl who needs rescuing. The girl who collects shells and plays pianoforte badly and has opinions about everything."
Juliet smiled. "Then you know the answer. You love her for who she is. Now show her that."
I stood. "Thank you."
"Edward," Juliet called as I reached the door. "One more thing."
"What?"
"The book. The political essays. I know where you can find a copy."
I turned. "You do?"
"Lucas has one. In his library. First edition. He'd lend it to you." Juliet's eyes gleamed. "Or you could tell him why you need it. What you're planning. See if he helps."
"Why would he help?"
"Because Lucas wants to believe this is real just as much as I do. We're just—afraid. Afraid you're both making a mistake. But if you show him you're serious about proving it—" Juliet paused. "He might surprise you."
I nodded. Left.
And went to find Lucas.
Lucas was in his study. He looked up when I entered.
"Edward. I wasn't expecting you."
"I need to borrow something," I said. "A book. Political essays. Written by a woman under a male pseudonym."
Lucas raised his eyebrows. "That's a very specific request."
"It is. Charlotte mentioned wanting to read it. Months ago. In passing. And I want to find her a copy."
"Why?"
"Because I want to prove to her—and to you—that I've been paying attention. That I love her for who she is. Not just for what she needs from me."
Lucas studied me for a long moment. Then he stood. Walked to his bookshelf. Pulled down a leather-bound volume.
"First edition," he said. "Rare. Expensive. Charlotte mentioned it to me once, too. Years ago. Before the Season. She didn't think I'd remember."
He handed me the book.
I took it carefully. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. This is a loan, Edward. Not a gift. And I'm only lending it to you because—" Lucas paused. "Because I want to see if you're serious about proving this. If you'll actually follow through."
"I will."
"Good." Lucas sat back at his desk. "What else are you planning?"
I told him. The museum. The letter. The social call lessons.
Lucas listened. And when I finished, he nodded slowly.
"That's a start," he said. "But Edward—proving you see Charlotte is only half of it. You also need to let her see you. Really see you. Not the man who rescues her. The man who needs help sometimes. Who's vulnerable. Who doesn't have all the answers."
"I know. That's why I'm asking her to teach me about social calls."
"Good. Because if you can't be vulnerable with her—if you can only ever be strong—then Juliet is right. This is about you needing to be needed. Not about loving Charlotte."
I nodded. "I understand."
"I hope you do. Because Edward—if you hurt her, I will destroy you."
"I know. You've mentioned."
"Good." Lucas picked up his pen. "Now go. Execute your plan. And Edward?—"
"Yes?"
"Prove me wrong. Prove that you and Charlotte are choosing each other, not just needing each other."
I left Lucas's study with the book under my arm and a plan in my head.
Tomorrow I would start. Tomorrow I would show Charlotte that I saw her.
And then—then we'd find out if love was enough.