Chapter 27 #2
The longer she thought on it, the more plausible it seemed. Although there remained an insurmountable question: How could he have discovered it?
She turned back toward the house, suddenly impatient to share this with someone—anyone who might take it seriously.
Henry. William. Even Felicity. Someone had to be told that Sir Roger had been on the grounds. She’d seen him with her own eyes, and it couldn’t be a coincidence.
Her slippers scuffed hurriedly across the gravel, and she reentered the house through the rear entrance, heart thudding, hands trembling slightly.
They needed to know. And they needed to act.
She returned to the drawing room, trying not to rush despite the feeling of urgency in her chest. As she slipped back through the door, she found that the lively energy of the earlier charades had dissipated.
The sofas had been rearranged and the crowd dispersed.
Several ladies sat near the pianoforte now, speaking in low tones, while the men had largely migrated to the card tables in the adjoining room.
William was seated at one of them, holding a hand of cards and conversing with a young blond gentleman. Charlotte crossed the room, weaving past a group of young women chatting about a bonnet trimming demonstration, and stepped to his side.
“William,” she said quietly, “can I borrow you again for a moment?”
He looked up from his cards, his expression immediately sharpening when he saw her face. “Of course,” he said, tossing his hand down. “Gentlemen, I must fold. Duty calls.”
The other players barely grumbled, nodding their understanding. William stood and followed Charlotte into the hallway without question.
“What is it? Has something else happened?” he asked once they were alone.
“I need to speak with both you and Henry. Now. It’s important.”
William didn’t waste time asking why. He simply gestured for her to follow him. “I think he mentioned needing a moment to himself after charades. Likely in the library or his office. He lives in there.”
They made their way down the corridor in silence, the echo of their footfalls on the marble floor almost loud in the stillness. Once they approached the office door, William knocked and pushed it open.
Henry was inside, standing by the window with one hand resting on the sill, looking out at the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon. He turned at the sound of the door.
“Charlotte,” he said, surprised. “William.”
“Sorry to disturb you,” she said. “But I saw something you need to know.”
Henry’s brow furrowed, and he gestured for them both to come in. “What is it?”
She stepped into the room, taking a breath to steady herself. “I was outside just now, trying to clear my head, and I saw someone getting into a carriage out front. A man. From behind, he looked exactly like Sir Roger.”
Henry straightened slightly. “Leonard? Here?”
“I think so,” she said. “I can’t be certain, but I swear it looked like him. And he left without anyone knowing. It didn’t feel right.”
William closed the door behind them with a quiet click. “Why the devil would Leonard be here? He hasn’t any connection to the other guests, does he?”
“None that I know of,” Henry replied.
Charlotte moved closer to the hearth, twisting her fingers together. “I thought perhaps he was behind the notes.”
Henry blinked. “Because of you?”
“I don’t know.” She frowned. “Maybe. At first I thought it seemed ridiculous, but if he’s angry about what happened between us—if he’s holding a grudge—maybe this is his way of retaliating.
Not by ruining me, but by threatening you.
After all, one of the notes did come to me directly and whoever it is clearly wants the engagement ended. ”
William looked unconvinced. “You really think he’d go to such lengths just because you intervened between him and Charlotte?”
Henry’s mouth quirked. “You underestimate how far a man might go to win someone he believes he’s lost. If I thought I might lose you forever, I’m not sure I wouldn’t consider desperate measures myself.” He said the last to Charlotte, gazing deeply into her eyes.
That startled her, and she felt a faint flush creeping up her neck. She wasn’t sure what to say to that, and William, sensing the sudden atmosphere, cleared his throat and stepped back.
“I’ll make some quiet inquiries,” he said. “If Leonard was on the grounds, someone must have seen something. A stable hand or a grounds servant perhaps. Someone would have noticed the carriage if nothing else.”
Charlotte turned to him, grateful. “Thank you, brother.”
“I’ll let you know what I hear,” he said, already heading for the door. “Keep an eye out yourselves. If he’s involved in this, we need to find proof. Quickly.”
And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.
Charlotte turned back to Henry. He was watching her thoughtfully, his gaze flickering over her face as though memorizing it.
“There must be more to this,” she murmured. “With Leonard, I mean. He’s here to ruin you.”
“You truly don’t think it’s possible he’s only here because he wants you back?” he asked softly.
She shook her head. “I don’t think anyone would go to these lengths just to make me their wife.”
Henry’s expression changed slightly, but he said nothing.
Charlotte stepped forward just close enough for him to hear her lowered voice. “But I do think someone wants to hurt you. And I think Leonard’s the sort of man who might enjoy that. Perhaps he is acting for someone?”
Henry’s jaw tightened. “Then we’ll find out if it’s him.”
She nodded. “Sooner rather than later.”
They stood there for a moment, the quiet between them thick with unspoken things, before Henry broke the silence.
“Thank you,” he said. “For telling me. For staying with me in spite of… everything.”
Charlotte’s lips curved into a small, private smile. “I think you’re worth the risk.”
The air had gone still, the gentle hush of the room pressing in around them. Somewhere, far off, she thought she heard the muted sounds of laughter from the parlor, the shuffle of footsteps and the crackle of the fire, but all of it was distant, irrelevant.
Henry was looking at her as though she were the only person left in the world.
“Charlotte,” he said softly, his voice lower now, reverent. “I would go to any lengths. For you.”
And then he stepped closer. Just one pace. But it was enough.
Her heart was racing, thudding hard against her ribs. She felt breathless, rooted to the spot, unable to look away from him. She searched his face, trying to make sense of his expression. Of the desperation, the longing, the fear, and the fierce affection that flickered there.
He reached for her slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She didn’t. She couldn’t. Her hands lifted of their own accord, curling lightly around the lapels of his coat. She thought she might say something—warn him, or herself, against getting caught again—but the words stuck in her throat.
And then he kissed her.
It was not the hurried, spontaneous kiss by the lake.
This was deliberate and certain. His mouth met hers with such intensity that it took her breath.
One of his hands cupped the side of her face, his fingers threading through her hair as though he was afraid she might disappear if he didn’t hold her close enough.
Charlotte leaned into him, her body melting against his.
The kiss deepened, his other arm winding around her waist and drawing her into his chest, anchoring her.
She kissed him back with every ounce of emotion she’d kept bottled up.
Her fear, frustration, longing, and hope.
It spilled out of her, pouring into a single, searing kiss.
The world fell away.
For one impossibly perfect moment, there was no blackmailer, no scandal, no future to fear. There was only Henry’s mouth on hers, the strength of his arms around her, and the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears.
When at last they parted, both of them breathless, he rested his forehead against hers.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too, dear Charlotte.”