17. In Which a Gentleman Faces the Question – Ashford House to Ashbourne House, London
IN WHICH A GENTLEMAN FACES THE QUESTION
EDWARD
ASHFORD HOUSE TO ASHBOURNE HOUSE, LONDON
The summons arrived at noon.
I was in the library at Ashford House, staring at the same page I'd been staring at for the last hour, when Father appeared in the doorway.
"Edward. Lucas wants to see you. Two o'clock. His study."
I looked up. "Has he decided?"
"I don't know. But Juliet spoke with him yesterday. And Charlotte spoke with them both this morning." Father's expression was grave. "He's had time to think. To discuss it with Juliet. Now he wants to hear from you."
My stomach dropped. "Did Juliet tell you what she said on the terrace?"
"Some of it. She's concerned. About both of you." Father paused. "Edward, Lucas isn't going to make this easy. Be prepared for difficult questions."
"I know."
"And be honest. Don't try to manage him or tell him what you think he wants to hear. Just—tell him the truth."
I nodded.
I spent the next two hours trying to prepare for a conversation I couldn't possibly prepare for.
The walk from Ashford House to Ashbourne House felt like walking to judgment.
Lucas already knew. Juliet had told him everything the night before. Charlotte had spoken with them this morning. They'd had hours to discuss. To decide.
And now I had to face whatever verdict Lucas had reached.
The butler showed me to Lucas's study. His expression was carefully blank. Professional. But I caught the flicker of judgment in his eyes.
"Lord Retford," he announced.
Lucas stood by the window. Turned when I entered.
"Edward. Come in. Close the door."
I did. Stood in the centre of the study and waited.
Lucas gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Sit."
I sat.
Lucas studied me for a long moment. Then: "Juliet told me. About the terrace at Penworth. About what you said to her."
"Yes."
"She came home. Told me everything. That you're in love with Charlotte. That Charlotte rode to Ashford Hall to find you. That you've been—involved—for weeks."
"Yes."
"And this morning, Charlotte told us her side. About Ashford Hall. About the kiss. About—all of it."
I nodded. "I know this is?—"
"Complicated?" Lucas's voice was dry. "That's one word for it. Edward, you're my brother-in-law. I've known you since you were born. You've been family since you were eight years old. And now you're telling me you're in love with my daughter."
"Yes."
"She's seventeen."
"I know."
"You're twenty-three."
"I know."
"You've known her since she was six years old."
"I know all of it, Lucas. Every argument. Every complication. I've catalogued them all." I leaned forward. "But it doesn't change how I feel."
Lucas sat in his chair. "Juliet thinks you might be confusing rescue with love."
The words hit like a blow.
"What?"
"You've been rescuing Charlotte all Season.
From Dunmore. From awkward situations. From everything she couldn't manage on her own.
" Lucas's voice was measured. Careful. "And Charlotte—she needed rescuing.
From a match she didn't want. From feeling trapped.
Juliet is concerned that you and Charlotte have found each other in that.
The rescuer and the rescued. But that you might not have examined whether that's a foundation for marriage. "
I stared at him. "Juliet thinks—Charlotte, and I are using each other?"
"Not using. But perhaps—giving each other what you need without realising it's not the same as love." Lucas leaned back. "Edward, I need you to answer something honestly. Why do you love Charlotte?"
"Because she's—" I stopped. Tried to find words. "She's extraordinary. Brilliant. She sees patterns no one else sees. She's brave and stubborn and?—"
"Why do you love her?" Lucas repeated. "Not why you admire her. Why do you love her?"
I struggled. "Because when I'm with her, I feel—I feel like I'm allowed to want things. Like wanting her isn't proof I don't deserve happiness."
Lucas's expression shifted. "And Charlotte? What does she give you?"
"Purpose. She—when I rescue her, when I help her, I feel—" I stopped. Heard what I was saying. "I feel needed."
"Exactly." Lucas's voice was quiet. "Edward, you've spent your whole life believing you're a burden.
Believing you killed your mother just by being born.
And Charlotte—Charlotte has spent five years being the one everyone needs.
The one who manages everything. What if you're both just—giving each other what you've always needed?
You get to rescue someone and feel worthy.
Charlotte gets to be rescued and feel safe. "
"That's not?—"
"Isn't it?" Lucas leaned forward. "Edward, I watched you all Season. Every event, you were there. Running interference on Dunmore. Creating escapes for Charlotte. And she—she looked at you like you were the only safe place in the room. Like rescuing her was what made you valuable."
The words cut deep because they were true.
I had felt valuable when I rescued Charlotte. Had felt needed. Purposeful. Like, I was finally worth something.
"But that's not why I love her," I said. My voice was rough.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. The rescues—they brought us together. But I didn't fall in love with her because I needed to rescue her. I fell in love with her in the moments between. When we talked. Really talked. About real things."
"Like what?"
"Like my mother. Like guilt. Like—" I stopped.
"Like everything I've never been able to say to anyone else.
Charlotte looked at me and said I didn't kill my mother.
That I lived. And she said it like the difference mattered.
Like I deserved to be loved, not because I was useful, but just because I existed. "
Lucas was quiet for a long moment. "And that's when you fell in love with her?"
"Yes. When she told me I wasn't a burden. When she made me believe, for the first time in my life, that wanting something for myself wasn't selfish."
"So she rescued you."
The words stopped me cold.
"What?"
"Charlotte rescued you. From guilt. From believing you're a burden.
From—yourself." Lucas's voice was gentle now.
"Edward, do you see what I'm saying? You rescued her from Dunmore.
She rescued you from guilt. You're both rescuing each other.
But is that love? Or is that just—two people who found each other at the right moment and are giving each other what they need? "
I sat back in my chair. Tried to process.
Was Lucas right? Had Charlotte and I just rescued each other and called it love?
"I don't know," I admitted. My voice was barely a whisper.
"Neither does Charlotte." Lucas's expression was pained. "I asked her the same question this morning. Asked her how she knew this was love and not just gratitude. She couldn't answer."
Bloody Hell.
"So you're saying no."
"I'm saying—I need you to prove it's not just about rescue. That you love Charlotte for who she is, not because she needs saving or because she makes you feel needed."
"How am I supposed to prove that?"
"I don't know yet. But Edward—" Lucas's voice was firm.
"If I allow you to court Charlotte, you need to understand something.
This isn't just about whether you love her now.
It's about whether you'll still love her when the Season is over.
When Dunmore is married to someone else.
When there's nothing to rescue her from, and she doesn't need you to feel safe.
When you've worked through your guilt about your mother and don't need her to tell you you're not a burden. "
"I will. I'll still love her."
"How can you be certain?"
"Because—" I struggled. "Because even when I tried to stay away, I couldn't. Because watching her with Dunmore made me furious. Because when she rode to Ashford Hall and told me she loved me, I felt—I felt like I could breathe for the first time in my life."
"That sounds like need, Edward. Not love."
"It's both! It's—" I stopped. Took a breath. "Lucas, I can't separate needing Charlotte from loving her. Maybe they're tangled together. Maybe I do need her. But that doesn't make it less real."
Lucas studied my face. "What if it's only need? What if, in a year, when everything settles, you realise you're not in love with her? You were just in love with being needed?"
"That won't happen."
"You can't know that."
"I can. Because I've already tried walking away.
After Ashford Hall, I stayed away for a week.
Told myself it was noble. Told myself I was protecting her.
All I did was make us both miserable." I leaned forward.
"Lucas, I'm not going to change my mind.
Not in a year. Not ever. Because Charlotte isn't just someone I need.
She's someone I want. And there's a difference. "
"Is there?"
"Yes. Needing someone—that's about what they do for you.
Wanting someone—that's about who they are.
And I want Charlotte. Her stubbornness. Her brilliance.
Her terrible attempt to hide her feelings.
The way she manages everyone except herself.
All of it. Not just the parts that make me feel needed. "
Lucas was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Do you want to marry her?"
The question caught me off guard. "What?"
"Charlotte. Do you want to marry her? Or just court her?"
"I want to marry her."
"You're certain?"
"Completely."
"Edward, you're twenty-three years old. You've been back from the Continent for three months."
"I know. And I'm certain anyway."
Lucas stood. Walked to the window. Stood there in silence.
Then: "I haven't decided. Whether to allow this. Whether to give you permission to court her."
"What do you need from me?"
"Proof that this isn't just about rescue.
That you love Charlotte for who she is, not what she does for you or what you do for her.
" Lucas turned to face me. "I don't know what that proof looks like yet.
But until I'm satisfied that this is real—that it will last beyond the Season, beyond the crisis, beyond the need—I'm not giving you permission. "