Chapter 24
Charlotte led the way across Playter’s Bridge, Joshua at her heels. Below, the Don River rushed to the lake, the swirling eddies tossing branches in all directions, as wild and uncertain as her heart.
Joshua had followed her these last miles, tension thick and unsettled between them. She inhaled, finding solace in the steady rhythm of Tuck’s stride and the familiar landmarks along the road to Edenbrook. And, yes, soothed by the continued presence of the man accompanying her.
She didn’t like that last bit.
Knowing he worked for Deacon Cole and kept it from her, how could she find it comforting to have him near?
It made no sense. Her heart longed for an explanation, a way to reconcile the tender man who’d tucked hot bricks at her feet with the scoundrel who would sell her secrets to the highest bidder.
Finally, she could bear it no longer. She turned in the saddle. “How do you know Deacon Cole?”
Joshua cleared his throat, as though he’d been prepared for the question. “Met him nearly a week ago at Cooper’s Inn. He hired me . . .” He paused, his hands flexing on the reins. “He hired me to find your brother.”
She hadn’t realized how much she wanted him to deny it until he said the words aloud. He’d been working for Cole all along. She swallowed, feeling as if stones choked her throat.
“Why?” Her voice wavered, and she forced the tears back. She couldn’t shed tears over a man so unworthy of her trust. She wouldn’t.
“You know I need money for Henry. I’ve never tried to hide that.
” His voice was low and broken, with none of the defensive bluster she was used to from Papa or even Simon.
“Cole wanted me to look in on a hired hand. It seemed straightforward.” It was almost enough to make her soften.
Almost, but not quite. Yes, he’d needed the money, but would a man with even an ounce of integrity do business with the likes of Deacon Cole?
“But once you found out who I was. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’d already decided not to tell Cole anything.
” There was another stretch of silence, punctuated only by the soft thud of hooves as they traveled the muddy road.
Joshua sighed. “I didn’t think . . . I hoped .
. .” He turned in the saddle to face her.
They rode close enough to each other that his leg brushed hers.
“I figured out as soon as I met your brother that the real scoundrel was likely Cole.”
“But you hoped I’d never find out.” She had the gratification of seeing his shoulders slump in defeat. “You didn’t think I should know Cole was spying on Simon?” Her outrage grew the more she thought about it.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry. And I . . .” His lips firmed, and he lifted his chin to look ahead. “I didn’t want to risk losing your good opinion.”
She took stock of her feelings. Perhaps she did believe him. Perhaps he wouldn’t tell her secrets to Deacon Cole. But that didn’t excuse the fact that he’d kept his connection to Cole from her all this time. She couldn’t trust him. “I’m a lucky girl, aren’t I?”
“Lucky?” Joshua’s brow crinkled in confusion.
She didn’t mask the sarcasm in her voice. “Lucky I have you to do my thinking for me.” She turned about in the saddle to face him. “You don’t need to protect me, Joshua. I need to know the dangers I face. Tell me, once and for all. Is my brother a rebel?”
Joshua looked at her, his face solemn. “Yes.”
Charlotte didn’t remember the rest of the ride home. Her heart was heavy, her limbs weighed down with exhaustion and disappointment. She’d suspected the truth, but that hadn’t prepared her for the crushing certainty that Simon might be lost to her forever.
A familiar fence post caught her eye and relief coursed through her veins. Edenbrook. Her breath slowed and deepened. Home. The only place she’d ever felt safe.
The bare limbs of the oak that marked the entrance seemed to reach down and welcome her back.
“That’s a fine tree,” Joshua said. “Must be something in fall.”
Trust him to notice the trees. “It’s been there as long as anyone can remember. Long before settlers. Simon and I called it Robin Hood’s Oak.”
“Was there an oak like this in Sherwood Forest?”
“There was. Where all his merry men would gather.” She looked at Joshua. “Some say it’s also where he was betrayed.”
Joshua’s lips pressed together and he looked down.
Already Charlotte missed the easy banter that used to flow between them. She’d shared her hopes and fears with this man. She’d thought she’d found a friend.
Until Joshua Robertson had proven himself just as untrustworthy as the rest of the men in her life.
Edenbrook spread before Joshua, its whitewashed clapboard glowing golden in the sunset. Two stories, with gables and high leaded windows. The stable and outbuildings were substantial, as was the orchard beyond. He could never offer her a home like this. Good thing he hadn’t attempted it.
A smile slid across Charlotte’s face and he knew he’d lost her.
Not that she’d ever been his, but their journey had forged a bond of sorts, silken strands of attraction woven tight through shared troubles.
It turned out the threads that joined them hadn’t been strong.
They’d snapped the moment Deacon Cole appeared.
She turned to him. “Wait here. I’ll fetch the rest of your payment.”
He wished he could tell her not to bother but . . . Henry needed that money.
A figure appeared in the stable door.
“Fulton!” Charlotte called out, joy and relief in her voice. A friend or servant, perhaps. A home this large wouldn’t run without servants. “I’m home.”
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, you are.” The man lifted his lantern, revealing a lined face and grizzled gray whiskers. “Where’s Scarlett?”
The light faded from her eyes. “She’s . . . I had to leave her.” Fulton seemed like he would question her, and she hurried on, her voice breathless. “Never mind that. I’ll tell you later. What news do you have?”
Fulton ignored her question, lifting his lantern higher to observe Joshua. “This isn’t Simon.” He looked back at Charlotte, his mouth drawn into a frown. “I shoulda gone with you, Miss Charlotte.”
“This is Mr. Robertson, my guide.” With one curt sentence, she dismissed Joshua and turned back to Fulton. “I expected a delivery. Has anything come for me?”
“Aye, miss. In your room.”
She turned to him. “I’ll just be a moment.” She didn’t meet his eyes.
Joshua watched her stride to the house, his heart heavy. This parting was inevitable. But leaving her, knowing she thought him a scoundrel, was worse.
“She seems well enough.” Fulton eyed him with distrust, his gaze heavy with unspoken questions. “I reckon I’ve no cause to worry?”
Joshua banished the memory of the kiss. “I brought her back safe and sound.” He returned the man’s scrutiny, his curiosity piqued. Fulton didn’t act like any servant he’d ever known. His protective stance was more reminiscent of a father or grandfather.
The older man surveyed him for a long moment before nodding as though Joshua had passed some unspoken test. “And Simon?” Fulton’s voice wavered.
“He’s well. Char—Miss Carruthers will tell you more, I’m sure.”
“He’s not coming home?” At Joshua’s brief shake of the head, the old man seemed to shrink. The lantern trembled in his hand. “Foolish young pup. What will become of us now?”
The despair in the man’s voice took Joshua aback. “It’s just you here, with Miss Carruthers and her father?” he probed.
Fulton shifted his weight. “Aye, that’s all.” He sidled closer, his expression loosening as though he were relieved to confide in someone. “’Tain’t right, to my mind. A young miss, hiding away here, taking care of two old men.”
Joshua looked over his shoulder at the house, already suspecting the answer to his question. “There’s no housekeeper or maidservant?”
“Ain’t been money for a maid since before the missus died.” He gave a slow shake of his head that conveyed his disapproval.
The contrast with the image Joshua had held of a fine lady was stark.
So much about Charlotte made sense now. Her capable nature, her firm sense of duty.
He felt a spurt of anger toward Simon for leaving her here to cope on her own.
“Surely she has friends. Relations?” He couldn’t bear the thought of Charlotte with no one to lend her comfort.
He knew that life too well to wish it on anyone, especially a woman as warm and caring as Charlotte.
Fulton shook his head. “None of them fancy ladies in the city would have anything to do with her, not since—” He broke off and cleared his throat. “Well, not since the family fortunes took a turn for the worse.”
Details Joshua hadn’t noticed at first came into sharp relief. The rutted path and sagging front steps. The peeling whitewash. Unease rose in him. On closer inspection, it wasn’t the prosperous home he’d imagined for Charlotte. In fact, he had the distinct impression she wasn’t safe here at all.
“Is she in danger?”
Fulton’s expression grew guarded. “Didn’t say that.”
Joshua cursed his clumsy words. Now he’d gotten the man’s back up. He might as well ask straight out. “What do you know of Deacon Cole?”
Fulton’s fingers tightened around the lantern, making the light sway and bounce off his face. “Neighbor up the road.” Fulton shot him a keen glance. “Why? He been troubling her?”
“We met him on the road.” Joshua hoped sharing a bit of the story would prompt Fulton to open up. “He didn’t recognize Charlotte, but she seemed . . . upset. I didn’t like the looks of him myself.”
Charlotte bustled out the door, cutting off whatever Fulton might have divulged. “You’re in luck. Ogden’s funds arrived,” she said, holding out a sack of coins. Her eyes focused on a spot over his shoulder, her voice crisp and formal.
Joshua stared at the sack for a long moment. Those coins turned their days together into a financial transaction and him into a servant.
“Well, take it,” she said, losing patience. She tossed the sack, and he lunged to grab it before it hit the ground.
“Thank you.” He forced the words out, hating the weight in his hand that represented all she’d lost. Her brother.
Her horse. Her faith in him. He wished he were free to toss the sack back to her and confess he’d have done it for free, just to ensure she was safe.
But Henry’s future and freedom depended on the coins in his hand.
His fingers closed around the money. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”
She stilled, her eyes lifting to meet his. “I’m home now. I want for nothing.”
Her cool tone attempted to put him in his place, but his worry for her overrode any hesitation. “Deacon Cole is a dangerous man. Be careful.”
“I’m always careful.” With that, she turned and strode into the house, arms swinging and chin tilted at a defiant angle, as though she dared him to disagree.
Joshua strained his eyes for the last glimpse of her, a slow panic building in his veins. She might be in danger, and he could do nothing to protect her. He might never see her again.
“I reckon you’re right about Cole.”
Joshua turned to the old man, the pressure in his chest easing slightly. At least someone was willing to take Cole’s threat seriously. “I’ll be in the city for a few days. If she needs me, if there’s any danger, will you send word to Cooper’s Inn?”
Fulton nodded. “I will.”
Joshua stuck out his hand and Fulton gripped it. Their eyes met in a silent acknowledgment of shared worry.
“That mare of yours could do with a drink. Come with me.” The old man gripped Tuck’s bridle and turned to limp to the barn, his wooden leg ringing hollow on the flagstone path.
Joshua followed, smiling as Bess’s ears perked up at the signs of shelter and rest. “Don’t get too comfortable, old girl.” He glanced back to the house and his smile faded. “We won’t be welcome here for long.”