Chapter 14 #2
“Then it is settled. I will speak to my housekeeper as soon as I return home.”
Martha gathered the coins, slipping them quickly into her apron pocket. “I’ll fetch the letter now and bring it to you. Give me an hour.”
Charlotte’s heart swelled with gratitude. “Be careful, Martha. If anyone suspects you, deny everything.”
Martha managed a small smile. “Don’t worry, Miss Winslow.
Servants learn to keep secrets better than anyone.
” She rose, smoothing her skirts, but paused in the doorway to glance back.
“By the way,” she continued, “you are not a very convincing maid. Your skin is far too fair, and your hands—well, they’ve never known a day’s true labor. ”
And with that, Martha departed from the kitchen and Charlotte staring after her—heart pounding, half-exhilarated, half-terrified of what she had just set in motion.
“Miss?” Mary’s soft voice broke through her thoughts. The maid crossed to the kitchen door, her expression a blend of concern and urgency. “Shall we return home now?”
Charlotte released a slow breath, forcing composure back into her voice. “Yes,” she said. “I think that would be wise.”
The coach jerked to a stop in front of Charlotte’s townhouse, and before the footman could so much as reach for the handle, Luca was already out the door.
His boots struck the cobblestones with more impatience than grace.
He didn’t bother to adjust his coat as he strode up the short flight of steps and rapped smartly on the front door, his knuckles hitting the wood with more force than intended.
The butler opened it with his usual stoic expression, offering a shallow bow. “My lord.” He stepped aside to allow entry.
Luca inclined his head in acknowledgment but barely heard the greeting.
His attention was drawn immediately to the staircase where Charlotte was descending, one hand gliding along the polished banister.
The late afternoon light from the tall windows struck her golden hair—arranged elegantly atop her head save for two curls that framed her face—and made her gown shimmer like sunlight caught in silk.
He had seen her countless times, but somehow she always managed to steal his breath in a new way.
When her eyes met his, he bowed slightly. “Miss Winslow.”
A flicker of humor danced across her lips. “My lord.” Her voice was cool as ever, but her gaze softened just enough to betray amusement.
As soon as she reached the marble floor, he crossed the distance between them. “You look lovely.”
A faint blush warmed her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “What do you want?” she asked, though her tone lacked the sharpness it once might have carried.
“I merely wanted to see you,” he said, half-teasing, half-true.
“Liar.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Fair enough. I wanted to speak with you, but I was hoping we could do so in private.”
She tilted her head slightly, considering him. “We could take a turn in the gardens.”
“That sounds perfect.” He offered his arm.
Her gloved fingers rested lightly on his sleeve, but he could feel her warmth through the fabric.
They walked in silence through the corridor and out the back doors, the scent of roses greeting them as they stepped into the sunlight.
Gravel crunched beneath their feet, and the gentle rustle of leaves filled the space between them.
Only when they reached a quiet corner of the gardens did she withdraw her hand and turn to face him, her eyes bright with excitement. “I have the most extraordinary news.”
The eagerness in her voice sent his pulse quickening. “What is it?”
She reached into the folds of her gown and withdrew a folded piece of paper, her smile triumphant. “This is a letter from The Chelmsford Asylum to Lord Matthew.”
Luca’s heart jolted. “May I see it?”
She passed it to him, her fingers brushing his. He unfolded the letter and read the short missive. It was confirmation that Lady Matthew was indeed a patient there. The air seemed to thicken as the weight of that revelation settled over him.
He lifted his gaze. “Where did you get this?”
“A maid in Lord Matthew’s household retrieved it for me,” she said, her chin lifting proudly. “I paid her well for her help and Martha is now in my employ.”
Luca’s stomach tightened. “Charlotte… this was too risky. If Lord Matthew discovers the letter is missing, it could lead straight back to you.”
“It won’t come to that,” she countered. “Martha retrieved it from among his other correspondences. He hadn’t even opened it.”
He exhaled sharply. “You should have asked me—”
“Why would I need your permission?” she interrupted, her eyes flashing.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice rising despite himself. “But if the maid had been caught, did you consider the consequences? For her—or for you?”
Charlotte’s jaw set. “It was simple enough. I dressed as a maid and went to Lord Matthew’s townhouse—”
His mouth fell open. “You what? You dressed as a maid? Good gads, have you lost your senses?”
Her tone was sharp, controlled. “I was thinking only that I wanted to help Lady Matthew.”
“At the risk of your own reputation?”
“Yes.”
Luca raked a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps before facing her again. “Charlotte, you can’t put yourself in danger like this.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But you can?”
“It is different.”
“Different because I’m a woman?” She planted her hand on her hip, daring him to answer. “You’re no different than anyone else. You look at me and see a woman—someone who must be protected.”
“You are a woman,” he shot back, though even as he said it, he regretted it.
“Yes, but one capable of far more than you give me credit for,” she retorted. “And in this case, I found proof that Lady Matthew is alive.”
Her words hit their mark. Luca exhaled slowly, shame and awe warring within him. “You’re right,” he admitted. “You’ve done remarkable work. I shouldn’t have criticized your methods.”
Charlotte eyed him warily. “I’m waiting for a ‘but.’”
“There is no ‘but.’” His voice softened. “I’m proud of you.”
For a moment, she looked utterly undone. Her chin trembled as she blinked hard, moisture gathering in her eyes. “No one has ever said that to me before.”
He frowned. “Never?”
She shook her head, her voice soft. “No. I’ve never done anything worthy of praise. I’ve spent my life trying to prove I’m not a disappointment. My mother gave her life for me, and she was extraordinary. I am nothing like her.”
Luca stepped closer, his chest tight. “I find that very hard to believe.”
She looked away, her eyes glistening. “Her name was Elizabeth, but she went by her middle name—Lottie.”
Understanding dawned. “That’s why you didn’t want me to call you Lottie.”
Charlotte nodded once, her voice breaking. “My mother was good and kind, and I robbed the world of her. I don’t deserve to share her name.”
The ache in her confession cut straight through him. Without thinking, Luca reached for her hand. “Charlotte, you didn’t rob the world of her. You honor her every day—by the way you fight for others, by your courage, by being exactly who you are.”
Their eyes met, and for one suspended heartbeat, neither of them moved. The letter, the investigation, the danger—all of it faded until there was only her.
Charlotte slipped her hand from his grasp, her fingers trembling as they left his. “I am not worthy of your praise,” she said, her voice heavy with sorrow.
Luca’s chest tightened. “It is not false praise,” he insisted. “It is the truth.”
Her eyes shimmered, unshed tears threatening to spill. “My whole life, I have been trying to prove myself—prove that my mother’s sacrifice was not in vain,” she whispered. “And I am tired, Luca. So very tired.”
He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, offering it to her. The gesture felt painfully inadequate in the face of her despair. “Then let me help you,” he said.
Charlotte took the handkerchief, staring at it as if uncertain what to do with his kindness. “How can you help me?”