Chapter Nine
Later that day, back home, Charlene plopped into a chair in her greenhouse, the welcome scent of fresh leaves wrapping around her and calming her racing heart. But unfortunately, not enough to stow the flashing images of Adam in her head.
She had gone to the park.
I confessed my love. She slapped her hand on her forehead.
She wasn’t a fern; she was a weed. Clover at best.
She had met Adam. And worse—so much worse—she had played with him in the leaves like a child, letting laughter slip past her lips as though the past did not weigh upon her like an iron shackle!
They had almost… She didn’t even want to think about it.
It was just too embarrassing. And that woman!
Who had she been? Had she recognized her and Adam?
Or was it just some stranger who had happened upon them?
I need to think about other things.
Like how was she ever going to look at an autumn leaf again?
The colorful hues, the slight indication of decay—once symbols of change and beauty—were now tainted.
Very well, perhaps tainted was too strong a word.
But it was something! Every rustling leaf would remind her of him.
Of the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, the warmth of his hand as he pulled her up from the ground, the way the world had fallen away in those fleeting moments of reckless abandon.
She had tried to loathe him. Hadn’t she? His bloodline, his very existence—everything about him should have been an affront to her. And yet, standing in the park, covered in leaves, breathless from laughter, she had felt none of the anger she had so carefully cultivated.
That terrified her.
“You cannot forget the past, Charlene,” she whispered to herself, fisting her skirts as though she could hold onto her grievance with that alone. No, she couldn’t forget. Forgetting meant that she might relive it. Forgetting meant she might make the same mistake again.
Forgetting meant… letting go.
And letting go… that would be like it never having happened at all, would it not?
She couldn’t accept that.
But wasn’t she already letting go, little by little? Hadn’t she let go the moment she met him in the park? The moment she let herself forget who he was—who she was—and simply existed in that autumn-filled moment?
That was the most dangerous part, wasn’t it? Not forgetting the past but remembering how it felt to be unburdened by it. How easy it had been, how natural, as though she had been waiting all along for someone like him to remind her what joy was.
She dug her nails into her palms.
No, Charlene! What was she doing? What was she thinking?
She had spent a year rebuilding the foundation of her heart, and a wall for good measure, brick by painstaking brick. She had told herself she was safe behind them, untouchable, immune to the whims of foolish, reckless temptations.
But Adam had walked right in, hadn’t he? No chisel in hand, not forcefully hacking anything down, just a smile and a pile of dead leaves, and suddenly, she was slipping.
And if she slipped too far?
She might fall. Forgotten!
And this time, there would be no getting up.
No, she had to stay away from him.
Charlene exhaled sharply, as if she could force the very thought of Adam from her mind with one breath. She leaned back into the chair, staring blankly at the glass panes above, where the morning light filtered through in beams. She needed to think of something else. Anything else.
A rustle.
She jerked upright. The orangery was hers alone—no one ventured here unless she was here, which meant someone entered while she was away. She twisted toward the sound, calling. “Who’s there?”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, another shuffle, the faintest scuff of a shoe against the floor. A shadow moved between the leaves. Charlene rose swiftly, snatching up a small garden trowel as if it could be used as a weapon, absurd as the thought was. Who would break into an orangery!
Then, a head popped out from between two large potted ferns, dark curls tumbling into view. “Oh, you’re here,” Maddie said, blinking as if she weren’t the one caught somewhere she shouldn’t be.
Charlene dropped her trowel with a huff. “Maddie? What are you doing here?”
Maddie stepped fully into view, brushing soil from her hands. “Looking for some herbs for my medicine.”
She crossed her arms. “In my raised beds? Shouldn’t you go forage in the park or something?”
Maddie smiled, entirely unrepentant. “Yes. You never know what gems you might find.” She gestured around as if she had full claim to the space. “Also, you let me plant some here.”
She did? Well, she probably did.
Charlene sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. “You nearly gave me a fright.”
Maddie studied her for a moment, tilting her head. “Were you lost in thought?” A pause. “Why do you look like that?”
Charlene stiffened. “Like what?”
“Like you’ve just crawled from the barracks of trade ships,” Maddie said, arching a brow. “Or lost some great battle, perhaps?”
Charlene scoffed. However, thinking back—which she refused to do!—she did do some crawling. At least, a near form of it. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Maddie stepped closer, peering at Charlene as though she were inspecting a wilting plant. “I don’t think so. You look positively wrecked.”
Charlene turned away, fussing with a nearby sprig of lavender. “I do not.” And what’s with that word wrecked? Did she look wrecked? Well, her thoughts, if she were to admit, might be a bit wrecked. Urgh.
She was not wrecked!
“You do,” Maddie countered. “And since I know you haven’t been dueling in the garden—unless you have?—that leaves only one possible explanation.”
Charlene refused to take the bait. “I daresay there are a thousand different explanations?”
Maddie grinned. “A man.”
Charlene’s hands froze mid-motion. Maddie let out a delighted gasp. “It is a man! Oh, how thrilling! There can only be—”
“No one,” Charlene cut in swiftly. No. One. To admit to her friend she’d been frolicking in the park would be like admitting her worst failure, would it not? She plopped back down into the chair.
Maddie hummed, entirely unconvinced. “No one, you say. And yet, here you are, looking as if you’ve been emotionally trampled.” She leaned in. “It wouldn’t happen to be a certain Cross brother?”
Charlene shot her a glare. “Please don’t say his name.”
“Well, according to the M-Press this morning, the twins may be reunited after all.” Maddie bent down and inspected some plants. “Is this digitalis?”
But Charlene couldn’t focus on the seedlings. “What do you mean the twins reunited?”
“Oh, you know those gossip columns. One day they say David Cross is back and then they say he’s gone forever.” Maddie waved in the air.
“Oh, David,” Charlene said, curling her lip in disgust. “But Adam is… Adam is…”
Maddie’s grin widened. “So, it is the duke. Finally, you admit it?”
Charlene groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. “Don’t you have herbs to forage?”
“Oh, absolutely not.” Maddie plopped onto a nearby bench. “This is far too interesting. Weren’t you finished with the duke’s family? Though, if you ask me, the duke is far from his brother. He’s more handsome, better-educated, more eloquent, and such a good dancer. I saw you two at the masquerade.”
Charlene turned, exasperated. “It’s not interesting. And they might not be the exact same, but they are twins, and they share the same blood.”
Maddie tapped her chin. “And yet, I find you here, sighing like a tragic heroine, looking haunted by the mere thought of him.”
Charlene’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I loathe him.” Because he doesn’t feel about me the way I feel about him.
“Do you, though?”
“I am not discussing this with you.”
Maddie’s voice followed her as Charlene stormed away. “You can run, darling, but you cannot hide from that man. He seems determined to rekindle your friendship.”
Charlene groaned.
Charlene sighed. She was beginning to think she couldn’t hide from Adam, either. However, what if she did let him into her life again? If he ever betrayed her, hurt her, wouldn’t she be the only one to blame?
Maddie watched her carefully, a knowing glint in her eye. “You’re thinking awfully hard over there.”
Charlene shook her head. “I’m thinking that you should mind your own herb-like business.”
Maddie grinned. “Oh, but your business is so much more interesting than mine. But I’m more than happy to use my potion business to help you out. Just tell me what you need.”
Charlene huffed a reluctant laugh, but her thoughts still swirled. What if Adam was different? Not his bloodline, not his past, not the history between them, but him? The man he was now. What if he was not the villain she had painted in her mind?
Hadn’t she felt it herself—the warmth in his laughter, the steadiness in his presence?
But there was risk in letting him in.
Charlene exhaled, long and slow.
Some risks were just not worth taking.
*
Adam fell down onto the settee, throwing an arm over his face. He had gone to the park with the intention of seeing her, yes, but not like that. Whatever you could call “that” was. Not touching her before he could stop himself. Not by pushing his luck. Not by making a fool of himself.
He had raked those infernal leaves for her. He hadn’t thought so at the time, but he felt like a fool. A besotted fool. What madness had possessed him, he didn’t know.
Charlene was not a woman to play around with. She possessed a soft heart, sharp-tongued, stubborn nature, and she had made it exceedingly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him.
And yet—
Yet, she had laughed today.
A true, unguarded laugh. And save him, he had lived a hundred lifetimes in that sound.
Ah yes, he was a fool. An absolute, irredeemable fool.
Because he wanted to hear that laugh again.
No, not just hear it—he wanted to be the reason for it.