Chapter 30
“They’re comin’ now, arenae they?” Ian hopped in front of the drawing room window. “Is that one of them?”
Charlotte looked up from the sofa. “You must give the carriage a chance to stop, Ian. If it does not stop here, it cannot be your parents’.”
The carriage rolled past. Ian groaned. “That one didnae stop. What about that one?” He pointed again. “It’s grand. Maybe that’s them.”
“Watch the gate,” she said. “If it comes in, then we shall know.”
Four days of this. I cannot remember the last time I watched a road this closely. My own heart jumps every time a horse passes.
Another carriage rattled along the street. Ian pressed his nose to the glass. “Is that them? It looks like them. It has their colors.”
Charlotte folded her hands in her lap. “Wait, Ian. If it does not stop, it cannot be them.”
The carriage slowed.
“It’s stoppin’,” Ian yelped. “It stopped!”
“Ian, wait—”
He was already gone, the drawing room door banging against the wall.
“They’re here!” he shouted down the corridor.
Charlotte sprang up and ran after him. Her skirts caught a little on the carpet.
Mr. Gedge will have apoplexy. Ian will be out of the house before the door is fully open.
She reached the hall as Mr. Gedge swung open the front door.
Ian tore outside and straight into his father’s arms.
Nathan caught him at once, lifting him off the ground.
He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, bearing the same deep, dark eyes and quiet intensity that Ian had inherited, though his features were now sharply weathered by weeks of hardship and exposure.
“There ye are,” he said. He turned in a quick circle with the boy in his arms. “Look at ye. Ye’re twice the size ye were. ”
Ian wrapped his arms around his neck. “Ye’re alive,” he said. “Ye’re really alive.”
Eleanor stepped closer. She was slender and pale-faced, with dark hair slipping from its pins around a travel-weary yet radiant face, her right arm lay in a sling against her body, but her left went around both of them at once, drawing them together in a fierce embrace.
“Me clever boy,” she said. “Let me look at you.”
Charlotte stopped in the doorway. Her fingers curled around the jamb.
They are real. Not ink in a letter. Not names spoken in a quiet room. Moving. Laughing. Holding him. He is theirs, and they are his.
Footsteps sounded behind her. Heavy. Quick.
Henry came up to her shoulder and went past her at once.
“Nathan,” he called.
Nathan set Ian on his feet and turned. His face broke into a wide grin. “Henry.”
The cousins clasped each other hard. Nathan slapped Henry’s shoulder. Charlotte saw their heads bend together for a moment and looked away.
They needed this. All of them. We have been living in a half-world, waiting for an answer that never came.
Henry moved to Eleanor. “Eleanor.”
She smiled. “Henry.”
He took her left hand, careful of the sling on the other arm, and bowed over it, kissing her knuckles. “You have cost me years of my life,” he said.
“I will repay ye somehow,” she said. “When I’m allowed to carry a tray again.”
A laugh caught in Charlotte’s throat. She swallowed it back and stepped down from the doorway when Henry turned toward her.
“This is my wife,” he said. “Charlotte. Duchess of Sappherton.”
Nathan stared. Eleanor’s brows rose.
Yes. That sounds as strange as it did the first time I heard it.
Nathan bowed, caught Charlotte’s hand, and kissed it. “Is the world endin’?” he asked. “How in the name of all sanity did Henry Kingswell get married?”
Charlotte’s lips curved. “He asked,” she said. “I answered.”
Henry made a small sound that might have been a cough. “It is a longer story than I intend to tell on the doorstep,” he said.
Eleanor took Charlotte’s fingers gently. “I am very glad of ye already,” she said. “I can see what you’ve done.”
Charlotte squeezed her hand. “We are very glad of you.”
Ian darted between them. “Henry an’ Charlotte made me a cake,” he told his parents. “An’ there was a hunt in the garden with toys, an’ they brought Tam.”
Nathan blinked. “Tam?”
“Aye,” Ian said.
Henry cleared his throat. “We should go inside,” he said. “Mr. Gedge, tea in the drawing room.”
“At once, Your Grace,” Mr. Gedge replied.
They moved into the hall. Footmen converged to take coats, trunks, and bags. Charlotte led the way toward the drawing room, her pulse still racing.
Eleanor walked with care, Nathan close to her side, his hand hovering near her elbow. Charlotte watched them from the corner of her eye.
They move like people still listening for thunder.
In the drawing room, she indicated the sofa. “Please sit.”
Nathan sank down with a sigh. Eleanor followed more slowly, her sling carefully settled. Ian scrambled up between them, plastering himself against Eleanor’s good side.
“Ye have grown,” Nathan said. He touched Ian’s hair. “What have ye been doin’ here all this time?”
“I’ve been busy,” Ian said. “Charlotte made the house less dull. We moved the chairs. Mrs. Wick said it was scandalous. An’ there’s a dragon in the hedge, but Henry says it’s a topiary.”
Charlotte sat opposite, hands linked loosely in her lap.
I did move chairs. I did annoy Mrs. Wick. I would do it again.
Ian turned to his parents, eager. “On me birthday, they hid toys in the garden,” he said. “Ye ken, so I had to find them. There was a box full of soldiers with red coats, and a ship, and a spyglass. And then Tam came.”
Eleanor’s face softened. “Tell me more about Tam. Has he grown bigger?”
“Oh, yes!” Ian bounced. “Still got the white patch on his nose. He still runs fast. Henry said I couldnae gallop yet, but I did anyway when he wasnae lookin’.”
Nathan shot Charlotte a look and then Henry. Charlotte lifted a shoulder. “I tried to dissuade him,” she said. “Ian is not easily dissuaded.”
“He never has been,” Eleanor said. Her gaze lifted to Charlotte. “Ye took very good care of him,” she said. “I can hear it.”
Charlotte felt her throat tighten. “He took very good care of us,” she said.
He made this house into something alive. I will not say that aloud. It would sound as if I am complaining.
Tea arrived, carried in on two trays. Mr. Gedge supervised. Charlotte rose at once, grateful for something to do.
She moved to the table. “Milk?” she asked Eleanor. “Sugar?”
“Both, please,” Eleanor said.
Charlotte poured and passed cups, the familiar motions steadying her hands. Nathan watched Henry as he took his own cup.
“How did ye manage all this?” Nathan asked. “A wife, a ward, an’ a household that looks like it’s actually breathin’?”
Henry sat forward. “It began—”
Charlotte cleared her throat. He glanced at her. She looked at Ian, who was already sliding off the sofa in his eagerness.
“Perhaps Ian would like to show his parents Tam?” Henry read her meaning at once.
We should not speak of all the details with Ian present.
Henry set down his cup. “Ian,” he said. “Go to the stables. Ask the groom to help you prepare Tam. He must be presented properly to your parents.”
Ian nearly tripped over the rug in his haste. “I’ll make him ready,” he promised. “He’ll look grand.”
“Walk,” Henry said.
Ian slowed his step only a little. “Tam!” his voice echoed down the hall. “We’re comin’!”
When the door closed behind him, the room felt smaller.
Henry’s gaze returned to Nathan. “Tell me,” he said. “What happened?”
Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “We were on the north road,” he said. “Nae the usual one. I wanted to show Eleanor a view ye can only see from a particular ridge.”
Eleanor made a face. “Ye can see it fine from the safer road,” she said.
Charlotte watched them, her fingers tightening around the teapot.
Of course he wanted a view. Henry would call it folly. I call it something else. They lived the story I used to dream and nearly died for it.
“The storm came quicker than the shepherds said,” Nathan went on. “Rain ye wouldnae believe. The river swelled. The road crumbled under the wheels.”
“The carriage went down,” Eleanor said quietly. “We were still in it. It struck a rock. I broke my arm. Nathan’s head met something harder than it is.”
Nathan gave a rueful snort. “I woke with crofters lookin’ down at me. They live far off. Nay town. Nay post. Nothin' but sheep and stubbornness.”
“The storms kept them in,” Eleanor said. “Nay one was travelin'. Nay one could reach a village. We lay there for weeks, getting' better while the world went on without us.”
Charlotte pictured it, the small house on a hill, rain on a slate roof, a boy in England wondering when his parents would return. Her stomach turned.
Their story proved that the shepherd Henry and Charlotte had questioned was wrong. Besides, he’d been into his cups that night and his story should not have been relied upon.
“When I could stand without seein’ three of everythin',” Nathan said, “we made it to a town. First thing we saw was a notice.” He looked at Henry. “Drummond. Deceased. Wife also. I nearly threw it in the fire.”
Henry’s jaw tightened. Charlotte saw his hand whiten around his cup.
“We had no word,” he said. “Only rumors. Only the carriage. Nothing more.”
“I know,” Nathan said. “That’s why we sent the rider at once. Ye deserved to ken as soon as we did.”
Teacups clinked softly as everyone settled more firmly. Charlotte passed Henry his second cup without comment.
He looks steadier now.
Eleanor lifted her cup with her good hand. “My arm will mend,” she said. “Nathan’s head is as bad as ever but we are lucky.”
Nathan snorted. “We are stubborn. That’s more likely.”
Charlotte let herself smile. The room felt warmer. For a moment, the terror of the last months receded.
Ian burst back in. “Tam's ready!” he announced. “His mane’s brushed an’ he's standin’ straight. Ye have to see him now.”
Eleanor smiled. “We shall see him,” she said. “But first, come and have tea. Ye have been runnin' about, and I must make sure ye are eatin'.”
Ian groaned. “Tea first?”
“Yes,” Eleanor said. She patted the sofa. “Come sit.”
He obeyed, climbing up between them again. Charlotte watched him settle and felt something twist inside.
He is back where he belongs. This is what we wanted. So why does my chest feel like this?
She poured another cup and tried to ignore the ache.
* * *
“Ye have to kiss me forehead,” Ian said.
Henry stood near the doorframe, watching. Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing the blanket over Ian’s legs.
“Do I?” she asked.
“Aye,” Ian said. “Ye did it afore, when ye said goodnight, an’ ye have to do it now. It keeps the dragon dreams away.”
Henry’s hand curled around the wood of the frame.
Of course she kisses his forehead. Of course he accepts that as the surest guard against dragons.
Charlotte smiled and leaned in, pressing her lips lightly to Ian’s brow. “Goodnight,” she said. “Sleep well.”
Ian sighed and settled deeper into the pillow. “Ye’ll be here in the mornin’?” he asked, eyes already drooping.
“We are nae leavin',” Eleanor said. She sat on the far side of the bed, her sling supported by a small cushion. Nathan stood just behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder.
Henry felt the words settle.
They are not leaving. That is the point. That is what this has all been for.
He watched Charlotte straighten. She moved toward the door and toward him. When she came close, her shoulder passed within inches of his chest, and for a moment her eyes met his. They held.
Say you are glad. Say you are relieved. Say you are exhausted. Any of those would be true.
She said nothing. Then she brushed past him and stepped into the corridor.
Nathan chuckled quietly. “We’ve lost him already,” he said, looking down at Ian’s slack hand on the blanket. “He’s asleep.”
Eleanor’s fingers lay gently on Ian’s arm. “He’s happy,” she said.
Henry stayed where he was. He watched them together, a small knot at the center of the room. Ian’s head turned slightly toward Eleanor even in sleep. Nathan’s shoulders sloped, his entire attention on the child between them.
This is right. This is exactly what should be. Ian with his parents. A family restored. No more guardianship letters about stable roofs and haylofts and tutors fleeing in terror.
Henry did not feel the calm he had expected. Instead, he felt strangely bereft.
Ian will not need you now, a voice in his thoughts said. Not in the same way.
He would not be the one Ian called for in the night, nor the person the boy looked for in the morning. He had been standing in for Nathan, and that need had returned to where it belonged.
The thought moved further.
And the reasons for your marriage no longer exist.
Nothing remained to justify Charlotte’s presence. There was no scandal to manage, and no practical argument that required his wife at his side. Only Charlotte herself was left along with what he felt for her.
His heart began to pound, and he felt slightly unsteady.