Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Templeton, you simply must read this book once I'm done," said Charlotte the following day. "I didn't know it was so dangerous to be pretty."

She lay sprawled on a blanket in the garden with a bowl of strawberries from the hothouse to her left and strawberry lemonade to her right. Templeton wasn't happy about Charlotte sitting in the sun because her skin was sensitive, but the sun's rays felt deliciously warm, and she didn't want to waste such a beautiful day indoors. Her life was gloomy enough with her husband's lack of interest.

"Your parents shielded you, Your Grace," Templeton replied.

"I suppose they did, and I'm glad for that," said Charlotte. "However, the heroine's life is far more adventurous than mine, although I wouldn't cry and faint so much. One would think that after so many hardships, she would be stronger and think about saving herself. Does adversity not teach you to be self-reliant?"

"Perhaps if you're a commoner," said Templeton.

"It seems comfort is leading aristocrats to their deaths," said Charlotte. "If we cannot save ourselves when problems arise, what will become of us? Perhaps I need to create dangerous situations and think of a way to dig my way out of it."

Templeton's eyes widened in alarm. "You do not mean that, Your Grace!"

"The situation will be controlled," Charlotte assured her. I'll pay people to help me with everything. I just need to be frightened enough to know how I would react in the heat of the moment."

Templeton shook her head. "I'd rather you didn't, Your Grace," she said. "My heart wouldn't be able to take it."

Charlotte chuckled and lowered her chin to her clasped hands. "You worry too much. Would you get some more ice? My strawberry lemonade is a little warm."

Templeton nodded. "I shall return shortly."

Charlotte bit into a juicy strawberry as her lady's maid walked away. The juice squirted slightly, making her giggle. She sat up and dabbed the juice away with a corner of the blanket. Birds twittered all around her as they flitted from branch to branch and fought over the bird bath and feeders.

A little sun filtered through the branches of the tree she sat under, but she would have preferred lying in the sun. However, she had to compromise with her lady's maid, or Templeton would never stop worrying about the sun's harmful rays.

"Noisy birds," she said, smiling.

She moved down to her stomach and carefully bit into another strawberry while reading The Romance of the Forest . A shadow fell over her moments later, blocking out the little bit of sun she managed to get.

"Templeton, it's just a little sun," she complained. "And that was rather quick. Was the ice already crushed?"

"It's not Templeton."

Charlotte stilled. She slowly lifted her eyes to find manly boots before her. If the voice was not enough to convince her, the shoes certainly did. Her husband had actually left the house and was now standing in front of her. Charlotte didn't know him well, but this seemed out of the ordinary for him. He wouldn't have left his study for any old reason or come looking for her unless he wanted to say something. She inwardly groaned as she realized why he likely wished to speak to her.

Charlotte had refused to have dinner with him the previous evening, pleading a headache. That was a complete and utter lie. She was looking forward to the meal, especially the peach ice, but she had seen him enter the dining room moments before she did.

After ignoring her for days and taking most of his meals in his study, she did not want to force herself to spend dinner with him. Perhaps he was insulted, especially as he had sent a servant to inquire about her plans for the evening.

"Charlotte?"

She should probably say something, although she would have preferred him to turn around and walk away. Scrunching her eyes for a second, Charlotte pushed herself into a sitting position and tilted her head back. William looked down at her, his handsome face unreadable. She hated that. Charlotte could never tell what he was thinking until he opened his mouth and voiced his disapproval.

"What can I do for you, Your Grace?" she asked.

She sounded calm and polite but perhaps too formal, considering he was her husband. He had called her by her first name, after all. However, the more distance she put between them, the less hurt she would be when he voiced his irritation.

"May I sit down?" he asked, surprising her.

"Oh, erm, I suppose so," she replied.

She shifted to provide more space between them and took her bowl of strawberries. She wasn't willing to share them with a man who couldn't even spare her a little time each day. Her right foot snagged between the hem of her dress and the blanket, stalling her hurried movements. She wiggled it, but that only resulted in pulling her dress down. Panicked, Charlotte's hand shot to her bosom.

Her dress that day had a lower bodice than usual, but she wanted to wear it because it matched the blue of the clear sky. Fortunately, Templeton had insisted she wear a chemisette with it, so her bosom was still safely tucked away behind ruffled lace.

Cool hands touched her foot, drawing a startled gasp from her. William was touching her foot. Amazement filled her as he gently untangled her stockinged and shoeless foot before smoothing the blanket and moving back on his knees.

"Better?" he asked.

"Erm..."

Not a word came to mind. The unexpected show of gentleness wiped away every thought, leaving her confused and shocked. William scratched the side of his head and smiled shyly. He smiled shyly at her . That was entirely out of character. Something was wrong—it had to be. The man she had briefly come to know had never smiled at her or sought her presence.

"Thank you," she finally said. "For helping me with my foot."

"Do not mention it," he replied.

She nodded, crossing her legs and placing her closed book on her lap. She put the bowl of strawberries between them. It seemed selfish to not offer him any after he helped her.

"These are delicious," she said. "They're the first batch from the hothouse. I didn't realize you had so many. You can have every exotic fruit in the world right at your fingertips. I adore pineapples, so I'm happy to know you have a large crop growing right here on the estate."

Charlotte was rambling, but she couldn't seem to stop. It was like her mind was making up for being blank moments earlier.

"My mother started them many years ago," he said. "She always wanted things she couldn't get easily, like fruit out of season or anything not typically grown in Britain."

Charlotte chuckled a little. "She sounds like me."

"I think she would have liked you," he said, smiling.

She took a strawberry when the silence stretched between them. She was never comfortable about silences with people she didn't know well. Keeping her hands and mouth busy was the next best thing.

"I'm sorry," he said.

If William was looking to surprise her into silence, he was succeeding. She never thought she would hear those words coming from him. However, she didn't know what he was apologizing for. He had upset her several times since they were married, so she needed more information.

"I know we didn't begin our marriage well," he continued. "And things have been no better since then. I shouldn't have been so stern with you or made you feel unwelcome in your new home. There is no excuse for it, but I can only say I'm also new to the life of a newlywed. I've been alone for so long, and now I have a wife. It's taking some getting used to."

Charlotte could understand that, but she still didn't condone his behavior. She had left her home and everything she knew to become his wife and the mistress of their household. However, she felt more like a visitor, which was entirely his fault.

"Having a husband is no easier," she pointed out.

"Yes, of course," William readily agreed. "Marriage isn't a promenade in the park, but I have not made it any easier. I wish to do better, but I'm unsure where to begin. This isn't an excuse, but I think you might understand me better if I told you about my childhood. It's where everything started."

Charlotte lifted her eyebrows slightly. This was the most he had said since they were married, and he wished to tell her about his childhood. It was all so odd and frankly suspicious.

Perhaps she had fallen asleep while waiting for Templeton to return, and this was all a dream. It felt real enough, but she had had some vivid dreams in the past that seemed to blend the dreamworld with reality into a confusing medley that usually took minutes to separate. She pinched the back of her hand, wincing at the quick, sharp pain.

"Why did you do that?" William asked.

"Nothing," she said, feeling embarrassed. "Please, tell me about your childhood."

He tilted his head a bit and simply stared at her for several seconds. He likely wasn't accustomed to people suddenly doing such a thing.

"Strawberry?" she asked, holding one out to him.

He smiled and took it. "Thank you," he said. "My mother loved strawberries. She would have the chefs chop them into pieces, whip cream with a little sugar, and fold the strawberries into them. That would be her breakfast at least three times a week during summer. Sometimes, she would have sliced peaches on the side, but she preferred when they were preserved in syrup and spooned over vanilla ice."

"Your mother was a woman after my own heart," Charlotte said. "I think I shall tell the chefs to serve me whipped cream and strawberries tomorrow, although I have to have eggs, toast, and sausages. I feel my day doesn't begin well if I do not have that. My uncle from America introduced us to having more meat with our breakfasts. Meat breakfasts are quite the thing across the pond. I think they also have beans, which I have yet to try."

"We could ask the chefs to cook us an American breakfast tomorrow or later this week," William suggested. "I imagine Mrs. Clarkson will need to buy a few ingredients, but I doubt they're hard to come by."

"Are you certain?" said Charlotte. "I know you prefer simple food. Nothing too hearty."

"There is nothing wrong with changing things," he replied. "This is your home, and we're married. It's time we grew more accustomed to each other, starting with breakfast."

Charlotte smiled. She couldn't help it. This was what she had wanted from the very beginning, but it was never too late to change, especially if a person was sincere.

"That sounds lovely," she said. "So, you said you wished to tell me about your childhood?"

"Ah, yes," he said. He lowered his eyes as he moved off his knees onto his bottom. "Well, my father was a hard man," he began, meeting her eyes.

His shoulders were slightly hunched, almost defensively. Charlotte was tempted to take his hand, but they were not at that point yet. Whatever he had to tell her was undoubtedly difficult.

"You do not need to tell me just yet," she offered.

"No, I do," he said firmly. "You are my wife, and it's only right that you know more about me. I'm just sorry I didn't think to do it before. We could have avoided the tension between us."

She wouldn't argue with him about that, especially if he thought it was necessary.

"My father was a hard man," William continued. "At least where I was concerned. I was certain he didn't know the meaning of affection because I never received it. We never had a father-son relationship. Other than teaching and guiding me about taking over the dukedom one day, he would have nothing to do with me."

Charlotte nodded encouragingly. Her heart was tight with compassion and anger for the little boy who wanted his father's love and attention and didn't get it. She was glad she had never met the old duke, or she might have had words with him.

"My mother did her best to fill the gaps my father left," William continued. "However, nothing quite fills the void of a father. I tricked myself into believing he was just like that, but that changed when Henry was born. I saw my father become the man I always hoped he would be for me. He showered my brother with attention and affection while he continued to treat me like an afterthought."

Charlotte stretched forward to place her hand on his. It was done without thinking. Never mind, they didn't know each other well. They were husband and wife—that had to mean something.

"I'm so sorry, William," she said, squeezing his hand gently. "You didn't deserve that."

William stared at their hands before slowly raising his brown eyes to hers. Charlotte couldn't read his expression, but she was worried she had overstepped by being so familiar. She pulled away, but he immediately stopped her by covering her hand with his, trapping her between his palms. Her breath hitched as she gazed into his eyes, unprepared for the sudden movement.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you for saying that and being so sincere. I cannot tell you how much that means to me."

His thumb stroked back and forth across her hand, sending tingles of awareness throughout her body. Charlotte didn't think he knew what he was doing.

"It's nothing but the truth," she said. Her voice sounded a tad bit breathless, like she had been running and needed to suck more air into her lungs. "You deserved better."

"I did, but that doesn't condone my behavior toward you," he said. "I wish to begin anew, starting with a tour around the house and grounds. I know you have likely already done so, but I promise it will be a little different with me as your guide."

Warmth spread from the center of her heart to her extremities. This was all she had wanted from the beginning. It was a little late, but that no longer mattered. A fresh start was precisely what they needed.