Chapter 9

It was still dark when Charmian stirred. Roland’s arms encircled her, and she was pressed close to his naked body. She was warm inside and out in a way that she hadn’t been since that devastating quarrel in York.

She needed a moment to realize that the silence meant that at last the rain had stopped. Perhaps some of the inn’s guests might manage to make it home for Christmas after all.

Very carefully, she shifted in Roland’s arms. She had no idea what time they’d gone to sleep, but the weariness weighing down her body told her that it wasn’t long ago. Strangely, given that she probably hadn’t managed much more than an hour of sleep, she felt more rested than she had in years. Discovering that she hadn’t loved in vain and that she and her husband were reunited had done wonders.

Her lips curved in a smile, as she gingerly perched on the edge of the narrow bed where she’d found such rapture. The chance to salve her sexual frustration contributed to her wellbeing. Although it would take more than a single tumble to satisfy her physical craving for the man she loved.

She glanced back at him. By heaven, he was handsome. The fire had died down a little, but it provided enough light for her to make out his chiseled features.

Her unruly heart did a little jig of joy. Even better, he was all hers, when she’d been so sure that he was lost to her forever.

The world couldn’t have given her a better Christmas gift.

The urge rose to lie down again, to nestle back in his arms and let Puddlebrook go on its merry way without her. It was an effort to stand and collect her clothes ready to go downstairs. As she stood, muscles that she hadn’t used in ages twinged, reminding her of that passionate swiving.

At least the water Roland had brought her last night was still lukewarm. Proof enough of how little time she’d slept. As quietly as she could, she sponged the traces of their lovemaking from her body. Pink marks on her skin where Roland’s whiskers had chafed her provided another reminder of what they’d done.

“Good morning, my love,” a sleepy voice said from the bed.

Charmian found Roland regarding her with such unconcealed appreciation that she shivered with desire. The traitorous urge to crawl back into bed strengthened. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

He shifted to sit on the edge of the bed and rub his eyes. With his rumpled dark hair and bare body, he was beguilingly disheveled. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going down to help my aunt. The inn is bulging at the seams. She’ll need another pair of hands, especially when everyone starts demanding breakfast.”

The lazy delight faded from his eyes. “After what she did, she deserves to rot.”

Charmian sighed. “I know. But she’s still family and anyway, it’s not just her. It’s John and Milly and everyone else here. I don’t want to let them down. We have so much. We can afford to be generous.”

His lips turned down in wry acceptance. “And it’s Christmas.”

To her relief, she saw that he wasn’t angry. She slipped her shift over her head and reached for her stays. “And it’s Christmas.”

He yawned and scratched his chest. With another ripple of pleasure, she remembered that curling hair rubbing against her breasts last night when they’d joined together. “Can I help you to dress?”

“Thank you, but I can manage.” Since coming to the Spotted Fox, she hadn’t had a maid. Everything she owned these days fastened at the front.

“Stop it,” she muttered, as she fumbled with the hooks.

Roland tried and failed to look innocent. “Stop what?”

“Watching me like a cat watches a mousehole.”

He laughed. “You can’t blame me for enjoying the show, when a beautiful woman gets dressed in front of me.”

She blushed. “I’m so glad you think I’m beautiful.”

“You’ll be beautiful when you’re eighty, my darling.”

Her hands stilled, and she stared at him, lost in a fog of love. “You make it so difficult to go when you say things like that.”

He gestured to the bed. “We could start the day in a much better way than you running off to wear your fingers to the bone.”

Charmian almost yielded to temptation. Then she remembered her responsibilities, and she went back to dressing. “Don’t tease me.”

His expression turned serious. “I’d like to take you away from here as soon as the roads are passable. You’re not saying you intend to stay on at Puddlebrook as your aunt’s dogsbody, are you?”

This was an uncomfortable reminder of their quarrel in York. She eyed him, but she saw no belligerence. He was asking her, not telling her. “I’m ready to go. The lure of a proper bed is too strong for me to stay here.”

His brief laugh was proof that this was a man who had learned cooperation and compromise during their separation. “I’m glad to hear it.”

She stood in front of the mirror and picked up her hairbrush. Her hair was a disaster this morning, but she did her best to confine it in its usual plait. She met Roland’s stare in the reflection. “Thank you.”

He lowered his head in ironic acknowledgment. “You’re welcome.”

She smiled and tied the end of her braid with a ribbon before she turned to him. “As soon as the crisis is over, we can leave. I’m dying to see Leeder Hall.”

“I’m dying to show it to you. Haven’t you forgotten something?”

She frowned, checking her plain frock, brown today. Despite the distraction of a splendid naked man observing her every movement, she seemed to be adequately clad. She wore stockings and shoes, and all her buttons were done up. “What is it?”

His lips curled in that seductive smile that had stolen her heart when she’d been a giddy girl of nineteen. “Doesn’t your long-lost husband merit a kiss to start his day?” Unashamed of his nakedness, he stood and opened his arms. “Fie, Lady Destry, and it’s Christmas, too.”

She rushed across the room and threw herself at him. The kiss was intoxicating and threatened to continue far too long and lead to more than kissing.

Only with the greatest reluctance did she pull away. “Stay here and get some sleep. You have an insatiable spouse to take care of tonight.”

He laughed and kissed her with the teasing fondness that always touched her heart. “Now that’s what I call a Christmas present for a red-blooded Englishman.”

Charmian rose on her toes to kiss him again. Briefly because if she lingered, she wouldn’t go at all.

She drew away with painful reluctance. After so long without him, the impulse was to cling, never to let him out of her sight. She was clever enough to know that was no way to proceed. “I must go.”

Roland watched her with a troubled light in his dark eyes. “Make sure you come back.”

A rift opened in her heart as she realized that they’d both suffered too much to accept that everything from here would be smooth sailing. “I promise, my love. I promise on my soul.”

This kiss was longer, but she did eventually manage to get out the door.

As she crept downstairs, the inn around her was quiet. It was too early for the guests to be about. Most days, the work of a country hostelry started well before dawn.

She realized with a shock that the pattern of her life was about to change forever. Lady Destry could lie in bed while the servants did the household work. Lady Destry didn’t need to bake and clean and launder and lug endless canisters of hot water. Her days of drudgery were done.

On such a chilly morning, she was grateful to reach the kitchens which were always warm. Her aunt stood at the oven with some loaves ready for baking.

“Good morning, Aunt Janet,” Charmian said in a neutral voice. “Merry Christmas.”

Janet swung around so fast that the tray tilted. She only just managed to save the bread from sliding to the flagstone floor. “Charmian!”

Her aunt continued to look sick with guilt. So she should. She might have meant well, but her actions had caused Charmian untold grief.

The deception angered Charmian, too. Her mother and her aunt had told her a lot of lies, if mainly lies of omission.

She and Janet had an enormous number of issues to negotiate. But first they needed to deal with an inn jam-packed with guests needing to eat and wash and decide where they went next. Not to mention that John and Milly would arrive soon, looking for orders from their employer.

Charmian focused on practicalities. As befitted a well-run inn like the Spotted Fox, they always put everything away the night before. But yesterday had been so chaotic that the usually pristine kitchen remained piled high with detritus. Gladys, the cook, had been preparing meals until past midnight. “Shall I wash up, or would you prefer for me to start putting breakfast together?”

Janet clumsily shoved the loaves into the oven and slammed the heavy iron door. “Perhaps bring in the breakfast things. Once everyone moves on, we’ll have time to clean up properly.”

Without shifting, Charmian sent her aunt a direct look. “Roland and I are leaving as soon as the roads are passable.”

Her aunt twined her hands at her waist. It was a nervous gesture Charmian used, too. An unwelcome reminder that they were family, despite betrayals and wrongs. “You’re going with him, then?”

She tilted her chin in defiance. “He’s my husband. My place is with him.”

Her aunt looked stricken. “You hate me for keeping you apart.”

Charmian felt such a roiling mixture of emotions that she couldn’t say exactly what she felt. She was angry. And hurt. But there was regret, too. And much as she didn’t want to admit it, love. Aunt Janet had unarguably done the wrong thing. But she’d acted out of affection, however misguided.

Last night, when Charmian had learned the truth, she’d been livid and ready to banish her aunt from her life. Since then, she’d spent a blissful interval in her beloved husband’s arms and she’d discovered that he still loved her. It was difficult to maintain quite that level of white-hot fury when waves of sexual satisfaction swirled through her.

“I don’t hate you,” she said, sure of that at least.

Her aunt didn’t look reassured. “Perhaps you should. You love him.”

“Yes, I always did.”

“And he loves you. I…I didn’t expect that.”

“No, you thought I’d fallen victim to a fortune hunter.”

“I realized last night what sins your mother and I committed against you. I can only say I’m sorry, Charmian. I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got to give you.”

The apology shouldn’t make any difference. After all, it couldn’t compensate for the misery her aunt had caused. Not just for her, but for Roland, too. Neither of them had deserved to suffer through that purgatory.

Charmian sucked in a breath and surveyed the kitchen. It was a relief to avoid her aunt’s despairing gaze. She could tell that Janet was eaten up with remorse and that she was frantic for forgiveness. She also saw that her aunt was realist enough to recognize that forgiveness wouldn’t come easily, if at all. “You’ve been busy.”

The long oak table groaned under trays ready for baking. Now she took the time to check, she could see that Janet had made a good start on tidying up after last night, too.

Her aunt looked like she wanted to push their awkward conversation further along the road of excuses and apologies, so it took her a few seconds to turn her attention to their surroundings. “I…I couldn’t sleep.”

Janet looked worn and older than her years. She’d also been crying.

Her aunt was the most indomitable woman she knew. Charmian had never seen her shed a tear. She shouldn’t feel responsible for Janet’s turmoil. After all, the woman ought to stew. But that would be easier to say if she didn’t have a lifetime of kindnesses to recall, aside from that one huge, egregious act of treachery.

Janet pointed to a pot on top of the range. “There’s coffee made if you’d like some.”

The scent had teased Charmian since she’d arrived. For the last hours, her emotional troubles had occupied her attention. But standing here, she was aware that she’d had a huge day yesterday, followed by very little sleep. A hot cup of coffee would be welcome. “Thank you. Would you like some?”

“I’m awash with the stuff,” Janet said.

“Yes, but would you like another cup?” Janet’s never-ending fondness for coffee had become a family joke.

Janet’s lips formed a shaky smile before they crumpled. Collapsing into a chair, she covered her face with trembling hands. She started to cry as if her heart was broken.

Stricken, Charmian stared at her aunt. She’d come in here feeling self-righteous and ill-used. It was more difficult to remain convinced of her moral superiority when her aunt sobbed in distress in front of her.

She and her aunt had always been close. Once her brother made his enormous fortune, Janet could have lived a life of luxury. Instead she’d chosen to maintain her independence as a country landlady. Hearing of her youthful romantic disappointment, Charmian couldn’t help wondering if a mistrust of all males lay behind her aunt’s stubborn dedication to going her own way.

“Aunt Janet…” She ventured closer, remembering that she was angry, but unable to bear her aunt’s tears. “Please don’t take on so.”

Her aunt just kept crying, bundling up her loose apron and pressing it to her eyes as she swayed from side to side in an uncontrollable eruption of sorrow.

Charmian wanted to stand on her dignity, but it was impossible when faced with her usually unflappable aunt’s grief. Without making a conscious decision, she found herself on her knees beside the chair with her arm curled around the older woman’s heaving shoulders. “Aunt Janet, it’s all right. It’s all right. Please don’t cry anymore. Please.”

Janet hefted in a shuddering breath and cast Charmian a woebegone glance. “I can’t bear that I’ve done you such harm. I can’t bear that you never want to see me again.”

“I didn’t say that,” Charmian protested, firming her embrace. “We can work everything out.”

Her aunt didn’t seem to hear her. Instead she laid her hand on Charmian’s cheek. “You’ve always been the daughter I never had. It would break my heart if you never forgave me.”

“She forgives you,” Roland said behind her. “Of course she does.”

“Roland…” Charmian turned her head to see him standing in the doorway, his face full of concern as he surveyed the scene before him. “Can you please pour my aunt a cup of coffee? The pot’s on the stove. Just plain black.”

While he prepared her aunt’s drink, Charmian returned her attention to Janet who to her relief wasn’t weeping anymore. She passed her a handkerchief. “Here.”

Janet struggled free of Charmian’s arms. “Oh, dear, I can’t let John and Milly and Gladys see me like this,” she said in a constricted voice. “What will they think?”

Roland carried the steaming cup over to her. “Here’s your coffee, Miss Barton.”

Her aunt wiped her face and blew her nose and stuffed the handkerchief into her pocket. When she took the coffee, her hand shook so badly that Roland had to reach out to help her.

His assistance upset her again, and she caught her breath on another sob. “You mustn’t be kind. I don’t deserve it.”

He smiled at her, a gentle smile that surprised Charmian. She hadn’t mistaken how outraged he’d been when he discovered that Janet had hidden his letters. “It’s Christmas. It’s a time for getting things we don’t deserve.”

“You…” Janet stared at him as if he’d sprouted wings.

“Aunt, why don’t you go up to your room? John and Milly and I can manage. Especially as you did so much overnight.” Janet would loathe the servants knowing she’d lost control of herself.

“And me. I came down to lend a hand.” Roland set the brimming cup of coffee on the table and took Janet’s elbow to help her up. Charmian waited for her to shake him off, but she accepted his aid.

Charmian met his eyes. “I’ll take her upstairs. Can you stoke up the stove? We’ll have to start breakfast soon. John should be here any moment. He’ll tell you what else needs doing.”

When Roland smiled at her, she read the steadfast love in his eyes. How had she lived without him all this time? One thing was certain. She’d never willingly do without him again. She swore that on everything she held dear.

“Perhaps…perhaps that’s a good idea,” Janet said, leaning heavily on Charmian and letting her niece lead her toward the stairs.

As they left, Charmian looked back to see her aristocratic husband pick up the coal scuttle and head outside to perform one of life’s dirtier jobs.