Chapter Twenty-Seven
Come away with me. The words were written in a familiar cramped, forceful hand.
Charlotte had read them from the missive delivered to the townhouse as she poured over the paperwork for letting the house and doing what she could to ensure the twins’ stability, and her heart had sped, an eager flush stealing through her.
Where did he intend them to go? For how long? The note gave her none of the answers, so she had sent back a missive by way of the young urchin who had delivered it.
I can hardly drop everything at one cryptic note, now can I?
The response had come within an hour.
Please? I can make it worth your while.
She was sure he could. Thoughts of the previous night invaded her senses, and she found herself fanning her rosy cheeks before considering her response.
When? Where? For how long?
Not long after the errand boy left, she heard carriage wheels rolling up outside the townhouse.
∞∞∞
“You cannot just spirit me away at a moment’s notice, Benjamin.” Charlotte crossed her arms and leaned back against the squab of the well-sprung carriage. Benjamin lounged negligently across from her, his long, muscular legs taking up more than his fair share of the small space.
“I think you will find I can do precisely what I wish to do, when I wish to do it.” His tone was imperious, but the twinkle in his deep blue eyes made her lips quirk.
It was hard to maintain her air of exasperation when, in reality, she was humming with excitement.
It had been years since she had escaped London’s smoggy streets, and frequent glances out the window confirmed that they were leaving the crowded city behind.
Benjamin still refused to share the particulars of their journey with her, but she could not bring herself to care overmuch as she pressed the folding glass window open and breathed in the heady smell of warm earth that never quite made it to Mayfair’s cobbled streets, no matter how beautifully the spring thawed.
“Will you tell me our destination if I guess?” She had already determined it must be close.
He had not requested that she pack anything for the journey, so they would not be venturing more than an afternoon’s ride away.
They were headed west, she was fairly certain, so that would also eliminate many possibilities—though her knowledge of the geography around London was considerably lacking.
Benjamin only shrugged, as if he were only half interested in their conversation and more intent on working his booted foot casually under the hem of her dress to caress her ankle gently. It was supremely distracting.
“Are we going to have a picnic?” Charlotte could not imagine Benjamin Scarsdale lounging like a fashionable London gentleman amidst a variety of delicate finger sandwiches—though the course of his foot up her calf had her considering the other things they might do on a blanket under a shaded tree in a secluded corner of the countryside.
“We may if you would like to.” He watched a field pass, filled with sheep and lambs gambolling behind their mothers.
“But that is not the primary purpose of this excursion?” she asked.
He shook his head, and Charlotte’s brows furrowed in thought. “We are heading west…”
Benjamin leaned further towards the window, the warm side of his knee pressing against the inside of hers, as if to ascertain the sun’s position. “Yes, we seem to be travelling in that general direction.”
“Are we going to a village fair?” Charlotte was growing more frustrated, both from the lack of answers and the restlessness inspired by his proximity.
“No.” He shrugged again.
“Well then. How long will it take us to arrive at our destination?”
“A few more hours, I imagine.”
“Hours?” Charlotte squeaked.
They had left Mayfair just before noon. Unless they arrived at their destination and then promptly turned back around again, they would not be back in London before nightfall. And Charlotte was loath to travel by night, even with the formidable company of Benjamin Scarsdale.
“Do not worry about it, Charlotte.”
Her brows drew together at that. How like a man to dismiss her concerns. If she did not worry about it, who would?
He reached out to press his thumb to the furrow between her brows, rubbing with a soothing pressure that forced them to relax. “Trust me, love. I have everything under control.”
She felt herself relenting but could not bring herself to fully relax.
She was not quite reconciled to the strange and foreign experience of trusting someone else to care for matters…
yet. No. Would never be. Their arrangement was temporary.
She would be back on her own in only a few weeks’ time.
The heavy mantle of her responsibility, which had somehow seemed lighter in the last days, would settle back squarely on her shoulders, and she would be away in some new place alone to battle her way through.
It was liberating, but it was daunting. She hoped the weight of it all would not crush her.
“Charlotte,” his warm voice was a warning. “I can see you worrying.”
She let out a huff. “Well, what do you suggest I do? I do not know where we are going. You will not tell me. And now I know there are hours between us and this mystery destination, so now I have to just wait. I would say worrying is a very good use of my time. There is always a good number of things to worry about. The principle of which is that we will likely need to be travelling back after nightfall, which is asking for trouble out on these country roads. What if a horse throws a shoe, or we are set upon—”
“Charlotte,” he interrupted her with his broad hands splayed above her knees, the warmth of his bare palms seeping through the layers of her skirts. “I believe I can propose a better way to spend the next few hours than worrying.”
“Oh?” Still cross, she jutted her chin out in a mulish line.
Benjamin’s face cracked into a slow, wide smile, and Charlotte’s mouth softened watching the expression light up the inside of the carriage.
“Oh.”
∞∞∞
Two hours later, it took both Charlotte and Benjamin a considerable amount of effort to put her hair and clothing to rights, an endeavour that was derailed twice by Benjamin’s wandering hands as he did up her stays.
Finally, after multiple assurances, Charlotte was confident her hair and travelling dress were appropriately restored.
For the last ten minutes, they had been rolling through the streets of a town.
So busy was she righting her attire, she had not yet made out which town.
It was bigger than a coaching town one might find on the Great North Road, where the buildings sprang up around an inn and thrived off the passing traffic.
There were people milling around the streets, much like any other town—but she could tell there was something different about this one—though she could not yet tell what.
“’Ere we are!” The coachman shouted down at them just as they rolled into the mews behind a row of buildings.
“Where is here?” Charlotte craned her neck to see more of their surroundings while she waited for the footman to fold down the steps.
“Welcome to Eton, Lady Charlotte.”
Benjamin’s voice was right beside her ear, and the warmth of his breath on her cheek had her blushing and touching her coiffure, hoping any passersby would attribute any stubborn flyaway curls to the length of their journey. Then his words sank in.
“Eton?” She stood frozen in the carriage’s door. Eton.
They were in Eton. Marcus and Henry were here.
Close. She could see them. She had not seen them since the start of last term, and even then, it had only been for a few days after they returned from summering with the Chesterfields.
The Chesterfields had three boys. One of them, Simon, was the same age as the twins, and the three had been nearly inseparable since they began school.
While not titled, the family was wealthy and well respected and, frankly, considering the Aston’s fortunes, a godsend.
“I have arranged for a room at the inn just here.” Benjamin waved up at the brick building that fronted the mews as he gently lifted her from the carriage and placed her on the cobbles.
“We can go inside and freshen up—” he stopped when he saw her face, “or I can escort you to visit with your brothers now.”
Charlotte jumped at the suggestion. “Yes! Please!”
“Alright, let us be on our way then.” He offered her his arm, and she took it, the strong steadiness beneath his coat keeping her tethered despite her suddenly racing heart.
When they arrived outside the boarding house, Benjamin gently extricated himself from her grasp.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “We are here.”
He put another step between them and nodded. “Yes, I sent word ahead. Your brothers are expecting you. You have a reservation at the coffeehouse down the street here for six o’clock. Carons here will escort you and your brothers there and ensure everything is in order.”
“And what about you?” Some of the wind had gone out of her sails.
She realised now that there would be no genteel way to explain her travelling with a bachelor of ill repute, let alone dining with him and her brothers in public.
Still, the thought of him slipping away now had her chest caving in just a little.
She wanted him there. With her. With them.
She wanted to introduce him to the boys.
He would love them—so young, clever, and spirited.
And they would adore him, she just knew it.
“I will see you later.” He only smiled and tipped his hat to her. “We are staying at the Royal Arms. Carons will see you back.”
Charlotte could only nod as he turned to return the way they had come. She gave him a sad little wave that he did not see.