Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
“When you came back to me that night at Elysium, in that lavender dress—” She looked surprised that he knew the colour of her gown that night, as if he could ever forget it.
“I was so relieved. And in my relief, I was desperate to make you stay, to grab some piece of you. And so I proposed that ridiculous arrangement.” He shook his head in disgust. “I swear I did not plan it. I saw the opportunity, and after years of seizing whatever I could—grasping and reaching—I could not bring myself to pass it up. I was disgusted with myself the moment I said it. But then…” He laughed, his disbelief and joy from that afternoon in the pavilion bubbling up.
“Then, you accepted me. I think I wanted to marry you then and there.”
In saying the words, he realised they were true.
He had not known what it meant at the time, but the joy of her touch, the foundation-shaking realisation that she had given him such a gift—he had experienced a visceral need to keep her with him always.
“I just—” he faltered, “I could not have ever imagined you would want the same. I am…” He struggled to find the words to encompass the gulf between them, the corruption of his soul.
“I have done bad things—terrible things.
I shot you, for Christ's sake, Charlotte. You are so far above me.”
Her lips pulled up at the corners, and he was enchanted by the elusive smile in her eyes.
“I hesitate to remind you,” she said, her melodic voice dancing around his heart, “but I shot you too.”
Benjamin laughed at that, and despite the pain and weariness hovering at the edge of his vision, threatening to engulf him, he felt lighter for it.
“Yes, my love, you did.” Her breath caught at his endearment, and he took her hand in his, unable to muster the strength to lift his other across his body to take both. “I love you, Charlotte Aston.”
The words had haunted him, toyed with him, and terrified him since their trip to Eton.
But now that they were out, he could die a contented man, his soul at rest. Not that he fancied dying once he saw Charlotte’s eyes light up at the confession.
It was like he was meeting the woman anew; a brilliant light glowed from within her.
“Benjamin, do you really mean that?” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and he fought the impulse to tease her that of course he meant it, he would hardly say such a thing if he did not mean it—hell, he had been ready to propose marriage.
But the joy on her face was so pure, he could only smile and nod.
“Yes, I mean it.”
Shocking him, she let out a sudden hiccupping sob. “I love…” hiccup, “you…too.”
He did not think his ever-composed Charlotte could be reduced to such a blubbering mess, but then he felt his own throat working in response to her outpouring of emotion.
If he had two working arms, he would have pulled her into his embrace.
As it was, he had to settle for gently guiding her lips to his.
“Shh, Charlotte, my love. It will be okay.” And then his lips met hers.
∞∞∞
Benjamin woke with a throbbing headache, his whole body feeling like a mail coach had run him over. He groaned as he tried to ride through the wave of pain until he gathered the strength to open his eyes.
The effort proved worth it when he was met with the tired, worried, luminescent face of Charlotte above him.
As he regained further consciousness, memories began filtering back to him.
It had been three days since the incident at the Aston family townhouse.
After the first evening when he had confessed his feelings to Charlotte, he had fallen asleep clutching her hand and woken the next morning with a fever the likes of which he had not experienced in years.
“Infection,” Doctor Price had proclaimed pragmatically as he hovered over Benjamin’s flushed, scowling face.
“Likely aggravated by all the other injuries. The body is trying to heal too many things at once. He will need to be dosed with laudanum—I do not trust him not to leave his sickbed. I have had trouble with that recently.”
Benjamin’s head had been on fire, but he had still seen the disapproving look the physician gave Charlotte, who had the good sense to look properly chastened.
He was not a fan of laudanum or the sickly limbo it induced, but he had a distant desire to prove to Charlotte he could be a better patient than she was.
It was a newfound competitiveness born of the secure joy of her love.
And so, he let the doctor spoon the vile concoction into his mouth, and the days began to slide together in a vague haze.
Now, the cool cloth Charlotte bathed over his face seemed unnecessary. His skin no longer felt hot to the touch, and though his mouth felt filmy and dry, he did not sense that he was seeing the world in a fevered daze. The infection had passed.
“Here, have some water.” Charlotte held a glass to his lips, and he drank greedily.
Now that he had awoken as a man again, rather than an insensible invalid, he felt the agitation of confinement buzzing through his body.
He must get up. He had a new life to live.
A life with Charlotte. Which was the most urgent matter he must attend to, in all the chaos and confessions of the night he was shot, Benjamin had not actually proposed to her.
An oversight he meant to remedy today—as soon as he managed to bathe and change into something that was not stiff with sickly sweat.
“I have—”
“I wanted—”
They both stopped, chuckling as their words collided. Benjamin waved his hand, indicating that she should speak first. He found he was a much more patient man, knowing he had the love of the woman of his heart.
Charlotte smiled sheepishly, plaiting her fingers together and fidgeting with them in her skirts.
She was nervous; he realised. That made him sit up straighter.
“I know I said I would not go…” The words sprouted panic in his chest. Had she changed her mind?
Was it all just guilt over shooting him that had spurred her words the other night?
“I will be back,” she said quickly, seeing his expression drop.
That only partially placated him. “But it is the twins. I have to go collect them at Eton. Their term ends tomorrow, and they have nowhere to go for the break. The Chesterfields have rescinded their invitation on account of my ruin.” She said this last to the bunched fabric in her lap, crinkled and stained from days of worrying in her clenched palms.
Benjamin frowned. This was news to him. “What do you mean? The twins left last week with Robert Chesterfield. Lord Chesterfield collected them a week early—just when their exams were finished—to go on a fishing trip. As far as I know, they are enjoying the Lake District for the next week and a half.”
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. He could read the emotions flying across her face like words on a page.
Shock at the information. Outrage that she should not have known of it.
Indignation that he should. Resignation that he would likely always know more about anyone than she could.
Some higher sisterly concern must have overridden her desire to take him—or someone—to task that she had not been informed of her brother’s whereabouts, and instead she just asked, “Then why did the Chesterfields write me?”
He frowned at that too. “They wrote to you?”
“Yes! I received a letter at my boarding house in Edinburgh. They said word had gotten out that I had been…well, you know…” The blush that rose in her cheeks was so absurdly charming, he had to fight the urge to smile.
“And they could not take the boys for the term break because of the family’s tarnished reputation.
That is why I came down to London in such a rush.
I had to make new arrangements for them. ”
He could see the thoughts and worry spinning through her head as she tried to reconcile the new information.
He froze. His mind must still be sluggish from the laudanum; otherwise, he would have recognised it the moment he heard what she said.
“The Chesterfields did not write to you.” He sat up further, his body weak and stiff but thrumming with the energy of the realisation.
“It was Deering.” Charlotte’s eyes widened.
“We were watching the house, but he got a letter past us. The only thing we knew was that it was addressed to somewhere in Edinburgh. Wells sent word to Elkington to keep an eye on you to make sure he was not plotting anything, but it must not have reached him until after you left.”
Charlotte nodded, the wheels turning in her head.
“I left the evening I received the letter. They would not have had time to get your warning.” She frowned.
“But how did he know where I was? I did not tell anyone about my plans or how to reach me. Not even you. Only Elsie, so that she might help me find employment, and Freddie.”
She stopped short, and Benjamin felt the icy grip of intuition.