Chapter 13 - Stephen #4
Stephen could see the tremor running through her shoulders, the way her entire body had gone taut with the effort of holding everything in.
“But my mother—“ her voice broke slightly, and she had to stop and gather herself before continuing. “My mother used to say that a marriage without love was just a beautifully decorated cage. That she wouldn’t wish that kind of life on anyone, especially not me.” Her hand fell away from her mouth, fingers curling into a fist. “When she was dying, she made me promise. Made me swear I would never accept less than what she’d had with my father, that I would wait for real love or remain unmarried rather than settle for convenience.”
She finally turned back to face him, and he saw a tear tracking slowly down her cheek. Charlotte wiped it away with sharp, almost angry movements, as though furious at herself for the display of weakness.
“What if they’re right? What if I have to break it? The only promise I ever made to her, the last thing she asked of me.”
When Charlotte met his gaze, Stephen saw the fear and exhaustion she’d been concealing, saw how much weight she’d been carrying without anyone to help shoulder the burden.
“I’m terrified I won’t be brave enough. That when it comes to accepting or refusing him, I’ll break the only promise that truly mattered.”
All the fire he’d seen in her—the quick wit, the stubborn defiance, the courage that had carried her through locked doors and dangerous confrontations—it had flickered out, leaving only a woman who’d been fighting alone for far too long.
He was moving before he thought better of it, crossing the small space and pulling her into his arms.
Charlotte went rigid for half a heartbeat, every muscle tensing. Then something in her gave way, and she sagged against him, her forehead pressing into his shoulder. Her hands came up to fist in his shirt, gripping the fabric so tightly it pulled at the seams.
A shudder ran through her entire body, violent enough that Stephen felt it in his own chest.
He brought one hand up to her hair, stroking slowly and steadily in what he hoped was comfort, while his other arm tightened around her back. “You’re not going to fail her.”
Another tremor shook her frame and he felt the warmth of tears soaking through his shirt.
“Listen to me.” His hand moved to trace slow, steady circles against her back.
“I watched you walk into Penrose’s estate like you had every right to be there, watched you stand up to him tonight when most people would have run.
You didn’t flinch. Didn’t show him fear even when you had every reason to be afraid. ”
Charlotte’s breathing hitched against his shoulder.
“That’s not someone who’s going to break a promise.” He tightened his hold, as if he could somehow transfer his certainty into her, make her feel the strength he saw so clearly. “That’s someone who would tear the world apart before she betrayed herself.”
“But if we can’t find the documents—“ Her protest came out broken and muffled. “If there’s no way to stop this—“
“Then you’ll find another way,” Stephen interrupted, gently but firmly. “You’re clever enough, stubborn enough.” He paused. “Brave enough, though you clearly don’t believe it yourself.”
“And if worst comes to worst,” he added after a moment, forcing lightness into his tone, “just say the word and I’ll carry you off to Scotland.
I’m reasonably confident I can manage a horse and a head start.
You’ll have to handle the anguished letters about your kidnapping, though. I’m terrible at dramatic prose.”
A watery laugh burst out of her. “You’ll kidnap me?”
“Absolutely.” Relief flooded through him at hearing even that shaky laugh. “I’ve already assaulted a lord tonight. Might as well complete the criminal repertoire.”
She shook her head against his shoulder. “You’re mad.”
It should have been a joke. He had intended it as one, had meant to coax that laugh from her and nothing more.
But standing here with her still in his arms, feeling the way she was clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in the world, he realized he wanted it to be real.
He would take her anywhere she wanted to go, would face down her family and society and every consequence that followed without hesitation or regret.
Charlotte’s breathing had begun to steady, the violent tremors subsiding into occasional shivers.
Stephen felt the moment awareness returned to her, felt her realize how long she’d been holding onto him, how completely she’d abandoned her usual control.
She pulled back just enough to create distance, her face flushing as her gaze dropped from his.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice had gone quiet, almost shy. “I don’t usually—“ She reached out, fingers rubbing uselessly at the damp patch on his shirt as if she could somehow make it disappear. “I shouldn’t have fallen apart like that. It was foolish of me to burden you with—“
“You don’t need to apologize.” His hand was still resting on her back, and he found he couldn’t quite make himself let go.
“Not for this. Not for anything.” He paused, waiting until she lifted her eyes to his before continuing.
“Whenever you need to talk, whenever something feels too heavy to carry alone, I’ll listen.
No matter how foolish you think it sounds. ”
The embarrassment in Charlotte’s expression shifted into something more vulnerable, more questioning. “Why?”
“Because I want to.”
They stared at each other in the flickering candlelight, the words hanging between them. Charlotte’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.
In the golden light, she looked like something from a half-remembered dream—all soft edges and copperthreaded hair, eyes luminous despite the tear tracks.
The shadows played across her face, highlighting the delicate line of her jaw, the graceful curve of her neck.
She was beautiful in a way that made his chest ache, made breathing feel like a luxury he hadn’t earned.
How had he thought he could walk away from this? From her?
Whatever reasons he’d had for resisting this dissolved the moment she looked at him. And he found, in their absence, that he was drowning in her presence with no desire to surface.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
He could feel how utterly still she’d gone, her breath coming quick and shallow. Close enough that he could—
What the hell was he doing?
He stepped back sharply, his hand falling away from her. Charlotte remained where she was, pressed against the table, blinking as the moment shattered between them.
“I should go.” The words came out uneven.
He couldn’t do this to her, couldn’t let her believe in something he had no way of making real, couldn’t offer the beginning of a thing he wasn’t in a position to finish.
“Forgive me. I shouldn’t have—“ He gestured helplessly at the space between them. “That was inexcusable.”
“Wait—“
But he was already moving toward the door before his courage could fail him. He didn’t dare look back, didn’t trust himself to resist if he saw the confusion he knew would be written across her features.
The night air struck him as he stepped outside, cool and merciless after the warmth of the kitchen. Stephen forced himself to keep walking, to put distance between them before he could do something foolish.
Only when the Fairmont house had disappeared behind him did he allow himself to stop, pressing his back against a cold brick wall. His fingers found his cheek, where her hand had rested earlier, the skin still warm from her touch.
The cut Penrose had given him was nothing compared to the wound he’d just inflicted on himself by walking away from her.