Chapter 29 #2
And surely she wouldn’t think him handsome, though he did have the blond hair, small nose, and fair skin that women often liked.
Mr. Johnson looked almost exclusively at Charlotte as he talked. She was especially pretty today, wearing a pink and blue frock that set off her blue eyes and the color of her skin, the pink of her cheeks. For her part, she seemed to hang on his every word.
William was sunk.
Would she break his heart just like Letitia did?
But Charlotte was nothing like Letitia. Charlotte was good and kind and compassionate, and she would never marry someone just for their name or title or fortune—which meant she might marry this Mr. Johnson.
She was truly too good for William, for he had deceived her, given her a fortune under false pretenses, and then left her alone and refused to tell her he loved her, letting her be preyed upon by every fortune-seeking blackguard in London.
He’d ruined everything with his hesitation and with thinking she needed a fortune for society to accept her.
Perhaps he did have a mother who had scarred his heart in ways that had shaped him into this morose, melancholy half-monster, half-man. Perhaps his first love had betrayed and rejected him. But that did not mean he needed to punish Charlotte—or himself, for that matter.
No, she deserved someone like this Johnson, if he was sincere in his sentiments and desire to help poor orphan children.
But what if she had loved him? She’d told him of her feelings in her letter, but she’d since been quite cold to him.
How could he blame her? He’d been too afraid to express his own feelings for her, to reciprocate her expressions of affection. And now . . . he wasn’t sure he could bear it if she rejected him.
The pain of being rejected by Letitia was still so fresh.
He could still feel the desire to erase his own existence, even though he realized he was better for having lost her.
But Charlotte Robbins . . . she was a true woman of virtue, and to lose her would hurt so much more than losing Letitia.
Morose, melancholy creature that he was, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.
“Lord Brookhaven?” Everyone was looking at him.
Lady Derringer spoke up. “Will you be able to accompany us to Mr. Johnson’s Home for Orphan Boys in Cheapside tomorrow at two o’clock?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good, it is all settled. We shall meet you there tomorrow, Mr. Johnson,” Lady Derringer said.
Mr. Johnson bowed to her and then he took Charlotte’s hand and bent over it, looking her in the eyes.
The blighter didn’t miss a trick.
As soon as he was gone, Charlotte said, “I must go as well. I promised to take the children to the park and teach them to play pall mall.” She turned and looked at William. “Would you like to accompany us?”
“That sounds . . . pleasant.”
Charlotte turned to his aunt. “Lady Derringer? Would you like to come?”
“No thank you, my dear. I believe I have a headache coming on.”
When Charlotte turned to go, his aunt gave him a stern look, then a wink.
Lady Derringer was incorrigible. But at least she was discreet.
“We shall come by in half an hour.” Charlotte gazed up at him.
“I shall be ready.”
Just like the day before, William ended up carrying little Joshua most of the way home from the park.
He was hard-pressed not to laugh as he watched Charlotte Robbins fending off the many questions the children asked her and making sure they stayed close to her and Gretchen.
Joshua had his splint taken off that morning, now that his arm was declared healed, which had seemed to give him more energy, more daring, and made him express himself more loudly.
In short, he ran around as if he’d just been released from prison.
Not much instruction in the art of pall mall was given, but the children seemed to enjoy hitting the ball for a while, then started running around in circles, chasing one another and laughing. He occupied himself with watching them—and watching Miss Robbins.
And when Joshua especially had exhausted himself, William picked him up and carried him home, the other three children walking much slower than before.
Perhaps it was due to the presence of the children, but no one seemed to recognize him. He actually made it to and from the park without anyone trying to speak to him.
He helped Charlotte get the children into the house, and when Samuel, Annabelle, and Sarah all ran up to the playroom and when Joshua still didn’t move, William realized he had fallen asleep on his shoulder.
Charlotte smiled. “I’ll take him.”
“I can put him to bed if you show me the way.”
Charlotte nodded and led him to a bedroom upstairs with two little beds side by side. He laid Joshua in the first one, surprised he didn’t wake up, and Charlotte covered him with the blanket. Before they could leave the room, Sarah came in and kissed her brother on the cheek.
Charlotte closed the door quietly and whispered, “They each have their own bed, but they sleep curled up together like kittens.” She smiled, and he thought she’d never looked more beautiful.
As they walked down the stairs, she said, “Thank you. I’m sorry you ended up having to carry Joshua.”
“I didn’t mind. It reminds me of when Annabelle and Samuel were younger.”
Charlotte had such a sweet look. He wanted to pull her into his arms and—
“Miss Robbins!” Sarah ran down the stairs toward them.
She pressed her finger to her lips. “What is it?”
Sarah began chattering about how the footman had promised to make Joshua a slingshot, if Miss Robbins allowed it. “But isn’t that dangerous?”
“We shall talk about it later. We must not be rude to our guest, Lord Brookhaven.”
Sarah looked at William, and he winked at her. “Not to worry. I’ll see Miss Robbins tomorrow.”
“Yes, tomorrow.” She smiled, but her eyes looked rather tired as well.
If she was his wife, he would kiss her cheek and tell her he’d attend to everything while she went to rest.
“Miss Robbins.” The housekeeper hurried toward them. “The landlord’s steward is here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”
“Oh.” She looked at him.
“Shall I stay and see what he wants?”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
They went to meet him in her drawing room. He was a tall man with thin lips and a solemn face.
“I am the solicitor for the owner of this townhouse, Mr. Cunningham, and he has heard that you intend to turn this home into a school for orphans. He wishes me to convey to you that he will never allow an orphanage on his property. He will oppose any plan of the sort, and he wishes you to know so that you can vacate the premises and find a suitable building elsewhere.”
“Who told you such a thing?” William demanded.
The man didn’t reply immediately, his mouth opening and closing. Then he said, “It is the rumor on the street, sir.”
Charlotte’s face had gone pale, and she stared at the man, unblinking.
A moment later, she straightened her shoulders and said, “You may tell Mr. Cunningham that I will stay here as long as I like, according to our agreement as written in my lease, and that I have no intention of turning this house into an orphanage.”
The man was silent for a moment before replying, “Very good, Miss Robbins. I shall tell him.” He stood and said, “Good day.”
When the solicitor was gone, William waited for her to speak.
She let out a long breath, folded her arms in front of her, and said, “Well, I suppose I should have foreseen that, taking in two children off the street.”
“How could you have known?”
She rubbed her forehead, looking more exhausted than ever.
“Are you all right?”
“Only a bit tired.” She sighed again. “I shall see you tomorrow, then?”
“Yes, tomorrow.”