Chapter Twelve
Charlotte came down the stairs into the foyer that next morning, feeling like everyone would see that she’d only had a scant few hours of sleep the night before. And those hours had been split up by lovemaking with the very handsome duke who now stood waiting for her.
Unlike her, he looked entirely put together. His beard was neatly trimmed, his hair pulled away from his face, his cravat was perfectly tied and his waistcoat was flawless. When he saw her, his face lit up and her entire world stopped spinning.
“Good morning,” he signed, and then gave her a wink. “Again.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his cheeky welcome. After all, she’d only just left his bed a little more than an hour before. Her first good morning had been begun much more sensually.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she said with an equally playful curtsey that made his smile widen. It was these moments more than any other that made her long for the future he insisted couldn’t be. The moments when the connection between them was easy.
He offered her an elbow and they opened the door and stepped onto the front landing together. It was a chilly morning, but there was no rain to mar their view of the road. And on that road came two carriages, thundering up the lane, moments from their final arrival.
Charlotte’s heart sank, though she would be very happy to see her mother and brother after more than a month away from London.
Still, she knew she had to say one thing to Ewan before propriety meant they had to be careful. Prudent. She faced him slightly and whispered, “I’m not sorry.”
He jerked his face toward her, and as the carriages stopped, he signed, “Neither am I.”
She allowed herself one last sad smile at him and then turned her attention to the carriages. The footmen hurried to open the door of the front of first and Charlotte released Ewan’s arm with a little cry before she raced down toward her mother. The Duchess of Sheffield stepped onto the drive with her arms already open and Charlotte flew into them.
“My love, my love, how wonderful to see you!” the duchess cooed as she pressed a kiss to each of Charlotte’s cheeks. “My, I’d forgotten how beautiful you are in color, my dear. You positively glow.”
Charlotte detangled herself from her mother’s arms and turned toward her brother. Baldwin was often seen as stern, very proper, which stood out in his group of rowdy, popular and sometimes wild friends. But Charlotte knew him. She knew his warmth and kindness, and she felt all of that directed to her as he embraced her.
“Mother is right, you glow,” he whispered against her hair. “Happy Christmas, Charlotte.”
She pulled away and caught a glimpse of trouble on Baldwin’s face, but he turned aside before she could comment on it, and their family group moved toward Ewan’s. Charlotte smiled, and how could she not with the happy scene before her? Ewan’s aunt, the Duchess of Tyndale, had Ewan’s cheeks in her gloved hands and was saying, “Great Lord, but you should shave, my love.”
Ewan shook his head with an amused smile and slung his arm around his cousin Matthew. Charlotte let out a happy sigh. It was always good to see him with his friends, but none more than Matthew. Tyndale and Donburrow were like brothers, though Tyndale was half a head shorter and dark where Ewan was fair.
“Charlotte,” Matthew said, shrugging off Ewan’s arm and coming toward her. He caught her hands and lifted one to his lips for a gentlemanly greeting. “Poor girl, stuck alone with this one for three days.”
She laughed at his teasing, though she couldn’t help but see the flicker of pain in his gaze. The one that had been there for years. The one caused by loss that she could not fathom. “We survived.”
The Duchess of Tyndale, who everyone in their group had called Aunt Mary for as long as she could recall, stepped up and kissed her cheek. “You do look lovely, my dear. Oh, we are so pleased to be here at last!” She lifted a hand as Ewan grabbed for his notebook. “The inn was fine, Ewan, you do not have to write me apologies for the accommodation. We all simply wanted to be here. And here we are now.”
Smith was standing in the foyer as the group piled in and said his welcomes as he took all the coats and gloves and fantastic hats of the duchesses. Their group was all talking at once, but Smith seemed undisturbed, nodding and replying when it was warranted.
“Does anyone want tea?” Charlotte said above the cacophony at last. Ewan sent her a grateful look that she had taken over as hostess, though everyone knew it was likely his aunt’s place more than hers. Aunt Mary didn’t seem to mind, though, for she sent Charlotte a friendly look. “I realize it is early, but a warm drink could cut the chill.”
“I would very much like some tea,” Charlotte’s mother said as she linked arms with Baldwin.
That sent them all toward the parlor, still talking as a group. Charlotte let them go and finally she and Ewan were last. She looked up at him and then reached out a hand. He tucked it into the crook of his elbow and led her behind the rest.
She stepped into the parlor and began to pour tea. Her mother and Aunt Mary helped and soon everyone had a drink and a place. Ewan was seated between the two duchesses, scribbling madly in his notebook as they peppered him with questions. Matthew sat on the other side of his mother, leaning back with a smug grin that probably meant he had been the center of attention for the past few days and was happy to give it up.
Which left Baldwin standing at the sideboard with Charlotte. He held a plate as Charlotte piled cakes onto it with a pair of silver tongs. She felt him watching her as she did so.
“Have something to say?” she asked, looking up with a smile.
He shrugged. “Should I?”
Her heart stuttered. She and Baldwin had always been close, though perhaps not as bonded as Meg and her brother James, the Duke of Abernathe, were. Still, he was able to see through her. Even when it came to subjects they never discussed openly.
“There’s nothing to say,” she insisted, ducking her gaze back to the plate and piling two more cakes onto the precarious pile.
He let out a small breath, almost a sound of frustration, and looked over his shoulder. “You’ve spent three days alone with Ewan.”
She set the tongs aside and followed his gaze to Ewan. He wasn’t looking at her, and she shivered at just the look of him.
“We’re old friends,” she said at last. “It was…fine.”
Baldwin’s brow wrinkled and his gaze softened with tenderness that touched her heart. “Sweetest Charlotte,” he whispered, “Don’t think I’m not aware of your heart. Are you truly well?”
She swallowed hard. Ewan was one of those subjects they’d never discussed. She’d always thought she covered her love for him very well, but Baldwin’s knowing stare challenged that belief entirely.
She turned her face. “I’m fine,” she reiterated. “And what of you? Are you well?”
His hesitation was answer enough, but he shrugged. “Of course I’m well.”
She arched a brow. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered.
He gave her a half smile. “Nor I, you,” he returned. “Aren’t we a pair?”
She reached up to touch his cheek briefly. “Indeed, we are.” She searched his gaze, still finding that trouble she’d seen earlier. The trouble that worried her so, even in the midst of her own situation with Ewan. “Will it be all right?”
He nodded slowly. “I certainly hope so.”
“Are you two bringing cakes or solving the problems of the world?” Matthew called out with a laugh that spread to the rest of the group.
“If Charlotte put her mind to it, I’m certain she could solve anything,” Baldwin said with another soft smile in her direction before he took the plate of cakes and set it in the middle of the table set between all the chairs. “I, on the other hand, can barely tie my own cravat.”
“That’s why you have a valet, my dear,” the Duchess of Sheffield said with a saucy wink for her son as he took his seat.
The group laughed together again, and Charlotte took her seat with a smile. But even though she kept up a friendly enough face, her worry was real. Worry for Baldwin and whatever secrets he was keeping from her. And worry for herself. It seemed all their futures were precariously balanced now.
She could only hope her brother was right that it would all work out in the end.
Ewan poured three glasses of his best brandy and handed them around to Matthew and Baldwin. He tipped his glass toward his cousin and Matthew nodded as he lifted his own.
“It’s a bit early in the day for clever toasts—” he began.
“And brandy,” Baldwin added with a chuckle.
“And brandy,” Matthew agreed. “But I’ll do my best. The past six months have been transformative for our group, but our friendship holds true. So I toast to our bond and our futures, wherever they may take us.”
Baldwin and Ewan raised their glasses and all three men sipped the liquor. Ewan set his glass aside and wrote, “I’ve been out of London since November, so I’m behind. Tell me all that’s going on with everyone. Though I’m certain you two have discussed this at length while stranded in Donburrow.”
Matthew shrugged. “We have, but I’m sure we’re both happy to summarize. James and Emma are gleefully counting the days until their child’s arrival. I’ve never seen him so over the moon.”
Ewan nodded. He was so very pleased for his friend, the leader of their little group of dukes formed so long ago. James had been through a great deal and had believed he would never marry. Now he was with who anyone could see was his perfect match.
Ewan refused to allow that fact to give him hope.
“What about Simon and Graham?” he wrote. “I’ve heard from them both, of course, but what’s your assessment?”
Baldwin answered this time, his smile wide. “It’s been about a month since they began speaking again, but they seem closer than they have been in years. Simon and Meg are scandalizing the universe with how deeply in love they are. Adelaide is still living with them, though I think it’s a fairly open secret that Graham spends most nights with her. Hence the rush to the altar as soon as the new year is here.”
Ewan sighed with relief. He’d watched Graham suffer deeply after Simon betrayed him over the summer. That the two friends had not only repaired their breach, but had both found love and happiness as well, was something that warmed his heart.
“As for the rest,” Matthew said, “Hugh is stalking around London, always in a poor humor. I wish he would talk to any of us about whatever is troubling him.”
Ewan frowned. “I’ll write to Brighthollow,” he suggested. “Perhaps that would open him up.”
“If anyone could, it would be you,” Baldwin said with a shrug. “Hell, you’re the only one Willowby keeps in contact with either, aren’t you?”
“He used to write to Simon, too,” Ewan wrote with a sigh. “But in the past few months, I don’t think he’s written to anyone. I worry about Lucas. He’s so secretive and he hasn’t been in England for so long.”
“My theory is that he’s a spy,” Matthew said with a wink as he downed his drink.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Baldwin chuckled, and Ewan grinned.
“Roseford is still fucking half of London,” Matthew continued. “So some things never change.”
Baldwin set his drink down. “And some things do. Have you heard about Kit’s father?”
Ewan shook his head. Matthew bent his. “He’s ill. Quite ill. Kit is beside himself.”
“Who can blame him?” Baldwin said softly. “The Duke of Kingsacre is the best of men.”
Ewan nodded. “I’ll write to him, as well. I assume he is in the country?”
“Yes, though I’m sure Kingsacre will encourage him to carry on with his life and his duties.” Matthew shook his head. “That’s just who he is.”
Ewan frowned. Kingsacre had always reminded him of his uncle. Both were good and decent men. A rarity amongst the fathers of their ragged group. Most weren’t worth the paper to write their names. Luckily, their sons had found each other.
“And that’s everyone,” Baldwin said, and his gaze snagged Ewan’s. There was something about that dark stare that made Ewan straighten a little. “Except you.”
Ewan motioned to himself with a shake of his head.
Baldwin’s eyebrows lifted. “Don’t give me that me, who me look, Donburrow. I have a feeling you have much to tell.”
He swallowed. Sheffield was one of his best friends—they’d been close since childhood. But in that moment, Ewan felt a wariness around him that he’d never experienced before. Slowly, he wrote, “Not much, truly. The rain disturbed the bridge, we had to do a sandbag wall. I’ll have to look into a permanent solution in the spring, so if you have any advice on that, please do share it. I’m the most boring of our group, I assure you.”
Baldwin and Matthew read his note together, and Baldwin snorted. “That’s not what I’m talking about. What did you do to Charlotte?”
The mood in the room shifted in an instant. Tension suddenly hung there, heavy and thick. Matthew’s eyes went wide and he slowly stepped back from the men. Not so far that he couldn’t intervene if blows were thrown. Not so close that he was involving himself or taking sides.
Ewan swallowed hard as he wrote, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you do,” Baldwin said softly. “But if you need me to spell it out, I can do so. The moment I arrived I noticed she was…ill at ease. Only you can do that to her.”
Now Matthew stepped forward. “See here, Sheffield, I’m not sure that’s fair.”
Baldwin kept his gaze on Ewan rather than looking at their friend. “I agree. It is not fair.”
Ewan bent his head. Over the years, he’d never known if Baldwin was aware of the connection between Ewan and Charlotte. Of course, the world knew they were friends, their circle often smiled over the overly complicated hand language they’d created. He was certain many had their suspicions, and he would wager half his fortune that Charlotte had likely spoken of her feelings to James’s sister Meg.
But Baldwin had always stayed outside the fray. He’d never brought up the subject.
Now he had, and his face was…hard. Protective. Like Ewan was an enemy rather than a friend. Perhaps he deserved that after the past few days. Few years. After the last lifetime.
He cleared his throat and wrote, “I’m not trying to make Charlotte ill at ease.”
He left his pencil to hover over the paper a moment. He wanted to say more. He knew he likely needed to say more. But the words wouldn’t come. Probably because every word that ran through his head was a confession. A plea for help. A surrender to all she desired and all he feared.
Finally he handed the pad over. Baldwin read the words and silently handed it over to Matthew. Sheffield softened slightly. “I know,” he said. “I know you don’t want to hurt my sister. If I thought you did, I’d call you out at dawn, friend or not. But you must see that you—you are.”
Ewan shifted. Of course he saw it. He felt it. He wore that guilt like a blanket around his shoulders.
“I don’t know what happened between you two while you were alone here,” Baldwin continued as Matthew handed the pad back to Ewan. “But I feel a shift. I hope it might signal a new future for you both. But if it doesn’t, I hope you won’t hurt her in the process. She was hurt enough last time.”
Ewan flinched. So Baldwin knew or had guessed about the past. About the present. He nodded slowly.
“Excuse me.”
The men turned, and Ewan caught his breath. Charlotte was standing at the door. Her expression was bright, untroubled, so he didn’t think she’d overheard their conversation about her. He hoped she hadn’t.
“Mama and the Duchess of Tyndale have decided to take a rest, so I was thinking that this might be a good time to go into town.”
Baldwin cocked his head. “Why?”
“Well, unlike you lot, I’ve not been out in the house for the past few days. I wouldn’t mind seeing that the world still exists outside these walls. And I made some promises of wooden swords and dollies that I’d like to keep.”
Baldwin and Matthew exchanged a look of confusion and Ewan smiled at Charlotte. Of course she would wish to keep her word to the children. With Boxing Day coming up so soon, it made sense to bring her offerings to his tenants’ children on the same day he brought his other gifts to them.
He nodded and signed to her, “I will accompany you if you wish to go.”
“Ewan agrees,” she translated. “Are you two willing or are you tired of town?”
“A bit tired, actually. Baldwin, what say you to a game of billiards?” Matthew replied. He smiled, but Ewan saw the tension still on his face. He was playing peacemaker, putting space between Baldwin and Ewan so the battle between them wouldn’t transform into damage that might not be repaired so easily.
After the past few months with Simon and Graham broken apart, no one wanted that.
Baldwin stared at Charlotte and back to Ewan. Then he nodded. “I prefer billiards, as well. You two enjoy, though. I assume you’ll be back in time for luncheon if Mama asks.”
“I would think so,” Charlotte said. “It’s only a few things I must pick up.” Ewan nodded and her face lit up. “Excellent. I’ll have Smith fetch my wrap and my gloves and I’ll be ready.”
She spun from the room and Ewan couldn’t help but watch as she did so. He was so focused on her departure, he didn’t realize Baldwin had stepped up to him until his hand closed around Ewan’s upper arm. Ewan turned, his heart throbbing as he stared at his friend.
Baldwin’s voice was gentle as he said, “Just try not to hurt her. Better yet, don’t hurt yourself. It seems your hearts are tied together, so I know there is not one heartbreak without the other.” He patted Ewan on the arm and then said, “Come, Tyndale. I’m ready to make you look a fool at billiards.”
“Unkind!” Matthew said with a laugh even as he speared Ewan with a look that told him this subject would be discussed again. Then Matthew followed Baldwin out the door, leaving Ewan alone.
He sighed. Somehow he’d thought that having the others here would put a kind of buffer between himself and Charlotte. Instead, everyone seemed to see the connection between them and wanted to encourage it.
And he was about to be alone with her once again. A recipe for disaster that he had to avoid. For both their sakes.