Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, but she is feeling unwell and doesn't wish to be disturbed," the butler reiterated for the fourth time.

"And you're absolutely certain?" Alexander asked, silently urging the man to change his mind, to admit Alexander into the house.

It was the day after their disastrous walk in the park with Lucille, and Alexander had been desperate to see Charlotte again. Alone, if possible, if only to explain his side of things, to tell her everything that had happened and why he had not told her.

And to warn her against Lucille's poison.

But as the butler shook his head for the fifth time, his polite smile waning, Alexander realized it was too late. Lucille's venom was already seeping through Charlotte's veins, toxic and hurtful. She had managed, clearly with some success, to turn Charlotte against him in only one night! Alexander would have been disappointed in Charlotte for not believing in him, had he not known how truly manipulative and cruel Lady Lucille could be.

Except she is no lady.

He realized, too, how sad it made him to think he had lost Charlotte. And it wasn't only about the money. That mattered, of course. Her wealth would cure all his financial ills. But the sadness was more than that. More than mere convenience. Mere money. It was as much as about missing her than it was anything else.

He nodded to the butler, then turned and walked away, lost in his own thoughts. Would she ever forgive him? Learn the truth? He would miss her mischievous smile. The way she always argued with him, even when she knew he was right. He longed to see her flout the rules of convention again and the way that lit up her eyes, bringing her alive. He would always and forever dream of the feel of her body beneath his hands, the taste of her lips, the sensation of her breasts pushed up against his hard chest.

Stewart!

The name popped into his head suddenly, and Alexander straightened. Stewart would help get Charlotte out of the house!

***

"I can't believe you are here," Charlotte said as she sat down opposite Stewart in the parlor. "I didn't think I'd see you again until the christening of Chelsea's first child."

Stewart's eyes widened. "She is already with child?"

Charlotte giggled, though her heart was not in it. "No, but I can't imagine it will be long. Those two could barely keep their hands off one another during the ceremony. Imagine what they'll be like alone."

Stewart's cheeks turned a dusky pink, and he looked away. Charlotte giggled again. If anything, at least she could still take enjoyment out of teasing sensitive gentlemen who were not used to hearing a woman speaking so boldly.

"I happened to have an afternoon off," Stewart declared, changing the subject. "And I wondered what to do with myself. That's when I thought I know. Why don't I call upon my old friend, Miss Charlotte ?"

"Old friend?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Old enough," he said with a shrug. "I met you when you were a slip of a girl, if you remember."

"I remember." She smiled fondly at the memory. Life had all seemed so simple then. So sweet. Affairs of the heart had yet to twist her mind into knots.

"And didn't you say you loved sailing? Well, I thought perhaps we could spend the afternoon boating."

Charlotte snorted. "They are not the same thing."

"No," he admitted. "But sailing is a little out of my depth. I can manage a punt on the river though. Are you free? You could bring Annie to chaperone."

Charlotte glanced at the lady's maid who sat quietly in the corner, a book open on her lap. Yes, perhaps an afternoon on the river would be pleasant. She had spent the morning locked in her room, pointedly avoiding calls from the duke, and it had left her somewhat in turmoil. It was the first time in her life that she truly felt confused and unsure what to do.

She wanted to see Alexander more than anything, and yet the hurt she felt over his secret affair with Lucille was too much. She had allowed herself to get too close, allowed him to penetrate her, and now she needed to spend time rebuilding her protective layers.

"All right," she said, looking back up at Stewart. "Let's do it."

***

Alexander watched from behind the bushes as Stewart helped Charlotte aboard the small rowing boat on the river."

"Annie will stay on the bank," Stewart said, looking back at the maid and just catching Alexander's eye. "Perhaps with your book?"

Annie nodded—clearly thrilled to have a little time and space to herself—and settled herself on the grass, immediately burying her nose in her book. Whatever it was, it was surely engaging, because Alexander didn't see her look up again. His plan had worked. Charlotte didn't look sick, nor particularly tired. If anything, she looked radiant.

His heart felt for her, reaching out to her, but she didn't turn, didn't look. Didn't even know he was there. A knot of dread tightened in his chest, and he silently prayed that she would listen to his side of the story, that whatever nonsense Lucille had told her would be easy to erase.

He caught the nod from Stewart and, as Charlotte settled herself onto the bench, arranging her skirt around her, Alexander jumped from his hiding place and stepped neatly into the boat. Charlotte looked up, smiling, clearly thinking her companion was Stewart, and she faltered when her eyes landed on Alexander. His heart sank to see the disappointment in her. He had hoped she would be overjoyed to see him.

Charlotte gathered up her skirts and went to stand but before she could, Alexander grabbed hold of the oars and paddled them further out into the river. The boat rocked as she shifted her weight, and she fell back down onto the bench with a bump. She glared at him.

"Are you in the habit of kidnapping ladies, Your Grace? Is that another thing I am to learn about you this week?"

Alexander winced. He should have known she would not make this easy for him. She was far too feisty. "I see we have returned to formalities, my lady," he replied, hoping to play her at her own game. "What a shame that is, just as I was beginning to enjoy our friendship more and more."

Charlotte scoffed and turned away. "Friendship? Is that what you call lying to someone and then stealing them away to the middle of a river so that they can't escape?"

Alexander rolled his eyes, not even bothering to hide it. "For goodness' sake," he muttered. "Is all the drama necessary?"

She scoffed again, this time turning to him and staring at him wide-eyed. "Whereas this trickery is entirely drama-free! Of course!"

He sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Very well. I take your point. But please, Charlotte, I only wish to explain."

At the sound of her name on his tongue, she softened, the deep lines on her forehead straightening, her head tilting. There it was, in her eyes, that fondness he'd missed. As angry or hurt as she might be, she still felt something for him. To see it buoyed him, and he continued.

"I dare not ask what Lucille has told you—"

"That you courted," she interrupted. "And that you might court again."

"Hah!" Alexander shook his head. "We did court, but I swear to you Charlotte, it will never happen again."

She looked at him for a long, tense moment, and all Alexander could do was return her gaze. Everything about her drew him to her, and he found himself speechless.

"Tell me," she said eventually, her voice soft above the water lapping against the boat.

All around them was strangely quiet, as if the world had decided to give them this space that they needed. The birds and river creatures, the ladies and gentlemen who would normally promenade along the banks. Alexander looked at this wonderful, unconventional, attractive woman and prepared to bare his soul.

"Some of what Lucille has told you is true. I courted her for a time, and we were about to become engaged."

Charlotte said nothing, but Alexander heard the sharp intake of breath. She held herself perfectly still, though the boat rocked them gently, the breeze riffling through her hair.

"I thought we would be married and that would be that. Isn't that how these things happen?"

"You… you loved her?" she asked.

Alexander shrugged. "I thought I did."

"But not anymore?"

He smiled at her, looking at her under his brow. "I don't think I truly knew what love was."

But now I do.

"What happened?" she asked eventually, and he knew he was winning her over.

"She betrayed me. I don't wish to go into details, but she proved to me that our love was not truly love at all, but a shambles. A mirage. A fa?ade that hid the truth—that we were never suited for one another in the first place and that actually, Lady Lucille is not the type of person I like to spend my time with at all."

Charlotte nodded. She watched him carefully, deciding whether to believe him or not. "And now?"

He shrugged again. "And now I feel nothing for her. It was the foolishness of youth, nothing more. Please, Charlotte. You must believe me."

She nodded again. "I believe you. But what I don't understand is why you didn't tell me. Was it a secret?"

"Not a secret, no, but I suppose I didn't feel comfortable talking about it. It was an unpleasant time in my past. With you, life just feels lighter, brighter. Like everything is right with the world, and I suppose I didn't want to taint that with the heartache of years gone by. Charlotte, please. You must believe me."

She was quiet for a long moment, her eyes focused on the glittering water, before she looked up at him and nodded. The tension in his chest melted away, and he smiled.

"And do you forgive me also?"

She pressed her lips together and nodded again. "Yes, I forgive you, Alexander. But please, no more secrets."

"No more secrets," he agreed. "I will tell you everyth—"

His words were cut off by the crash of wood and Charlotte's scream of panic, as their boat hit a structure on the water. Charlotte reached out in panic and Alexander tried to steady himself, grabbing hold of her, but it was too late. The boat tipped, and the pair of them cascaded into the water with a splash.