That night, Nathanial dreamed of Abigail. He did not wake with the usual sense of regret and shame that normally came with a night lost in his dreaded past. Instead, he woke refreshed as though old chains had fallen from him.
Unfortunately, his smile died a quick death when he entered the breakfast parlor and saw Daphne’s and Susan’s faces pale and saddened as they slunk to their seats. After a day indoors and another one ahead of them, their spirits were low. They were constantly bickering, casting the occasional wistful glance out the window at the wide lawns, their vibrant green shimmering in the summer sun.
“I feel bad for them,” Charlaine exclaimed as they once again made their way to the lake. “They looked so very sad.”
For a reason Nathanial could not name, the lake had become their place. It drew them to its shores and the moment his eyes fell on its glistening surface, Nathanial felt at peace. “I know. But it’ll only be one more day. Perhaps it’ll teach them to treat Emma with more respect. Simply because you can outwit someone doesn’t mean you should.”
Charlaine smiled at him. “Well spoken.” She sighed and sat down in the grass, her toes playing with a tall blade of grass. “Emma is so very tender-hearted. She never speaks much about her past, but she seems so very fearful at each and every step she takes as though she is afraid that the world will open and swallow her whole.” She looked at him. “I wonder what happened to her.”
Seating himself beside her, Nathanial glanced out at the water. “Why do you think something happened? Perhaps she’s simply shy.”
Charlaine shook her head. “No. She’s not shy, she’s…worried, on edge, and no one feels like that day in and day out without having a good reason.” She leaned back on her elbows and stretched out her legs. “I’ll speak to her.”
Nathanial laughed. “Another soul in need of a friend?” he asked teasingly. Deep down, however, he knew from personal experience that the support of a friend in a time of need could be life-saving. Indeed, over the course of the past few weeks, Charlaine had become such an integral part of his life that Nathanial could no longer picture himself returning to Boston and his old life…without her. He could not imagine not seeing her every day, not hearing her laugh or see that warm, vivacious glow in her eyes. Who would he be without her?
A lot had changed in the past few weeks.
A small smile stole onto his face as Nathanial glanced at her bare toes, still toying with a blade of grass. Not long ago, he would have been shocked, scandalized and quite possibly run in the opposite direction, afraid to act without proper manners.
To compromise her.
To…
Frowning, he turned to look at her face, her eyes closed as she lay back in the grass. “May I ask you a question?” Oddly enough, it had not occurred to him before this very moment.
“What a coincidence!” Charlaine’s eyes opened and she smiled at him. “I have one of my own to ask. But you may go first.”
“Very well.” Nathanial cleared his throat. “I cannot help but wonder that…Pierce does not object to you and I coming here,” his brows rose meaningfully, “without a chaperone.” A dark suspicion gripped his heart. “He does know we’re here alone, does he not?”
Charlaine laughed. “Of course, he does.” Sitting up, she patted his arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Pierce always knows…somehow. But he trusts me, and he trusts you as well. He knows we’re friends.” Her nose crinkled as a frown came to her face. “Why should we not be alone?”
“Well,” Nathanial began tentatively, becoming more and more uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation, “as your guardian, I suppose he might be concerned for your reputation. Or he should be.”
Charlaine’s jaw dropped in feigned shock. “Why? Do you intend to take liberties?”
“Of course not!”
Again, Charlaine laughed as though the thought was, indeed, utterly ludicrous. “Then why on earth would he be concerned?”
Nathanial ran a hand through his hair, feeling slightly agitated. “Because people might talk and−”
“People always talk,” Charlaine corrected. “But their talk cannot touch me.” She sighed. “I never sought their approval, and even if I did, given who I am, there is nothing I could do to gain it.” A sad smile played across her lips. “You only need to look at me to see that I’m not one of them. They’ve been whispering about me from the start. Never will they see me as one of them.” She crossed her arms in mock outrage. Still, a hint of vulnerability lingered in her brown eyes. “Did you know that I’ve never been asked to dance? Not once!”
Nathanial frowned, remembering a similar conversation. “Never? That cannot be. I−”
“With the exception of you and Pierce, of course,” she amended. “Did you not notice people staring at you whenever you spoke to me? Did you not wonder?”
Nathanial shrugged. “Well, I’m new to Town. I’m an American. I suppose that, too, will draw people’s attention. Zach wrote to me when he first arrived here and he described the ton’s reaction in very much the same manner.”
“While that may be true,” Charlaine replied, “it does not change that nothing can ruin my reputation for it already lies shattered at my feet. Not because of something I did, but because of who I am.” She shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”
Anger stirred in Nathanial’s heart. “That’s outrageous! I will−!”
Her hand settled on his. “Don’t,” she whispered sweetly. “I’m happy with my life here, with you and…my family.” She glanced in the direction of the house. “I have everything I need.” Eagerness came to her eyes then, and she patted his hand. “Now, it’s my turn to ask a question.”
“Very well.”
“At the wedding,” she began, her brown eyes lingering on his face in a rather watchful way, “I noticed how you kept looking at your sister-in-law. It made me wonder until I realized you were not looking at her, but at the ring upon her finger.” Her brows arched up in question.
Nathanial inhaled a deep breath and, again, his hands rose to run over his face, the tips of his fingers pressing upon his eyes. “It was my father’s,” he said without looking at her. “It is a family heirloom, which he’d given to my mother on the day of their wedding.”
Her hands touched his, urging him to drop them, to look at her.
Finally, he did. “When she died, he gave it to us,” he told her, fighting not to drop his gaze, but to continue holding hers. “It was meant to be passed on to the next generation and the next after that.” He gritted his teeth.
“You feel as though you failed him,” Charlaine observed, her hands still holding on to his.
“I did fail him!” Nathanial snapped, anger and shame once more boiling in his blood. “I gave it to Abigail, thinking that…” Closing his eyes, he shook his head. “I was wrong, and my parents’ ring ended up in the hands of an English bastard,” he flinched as the last word tumbled from his lips, “who took it back to England and then lost it in a card game as though it meant nothing.” His hands tightened on hers, and he belatedly realized that she was no longer the one holding on to him, but that he was holding on to her. “If Zach hadn’t managed to locate it, it would have been lost forever.” Staring at her, he shook his head. “Do not tell me I did not fail him for it is clear as day that I did.” He released her hands and rose to his feet.
As Nathanial made to walk away, her voice rose soft and kind behind him. “My father always said that many roads lead to happiness. That it is our duty to ourselves to find the one that is right for us.”
With his back to her, Nathanial barely heard her all but silent approach. Her hands came to rest upon his shoulders, warm and soft and strong, and he inhaled a deep breath. “It was not the ring your father wanted you to pass on to the next generation,” Charlaine told him, her warm breath brushing over his neck. “It was the story of your parents’ love that he wanted to preserve, a story that he hoped would inspire you to find a love of your own. Abigail was not that woman for you, and your father would have been proud to know that you had the strength to walk away and begin again.” Her hands gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “You did not fail him. You made him proud.”
Stunned beyond words, Nathanial turned to look at her. Her hands fell from his shoulders and landed in his own. “How can you possibly know that? You never met my father. You cannot know how he−”
“I know because of the way you speak of him,” Charlaine said, her gaze steady as it held his. “I know because I can see how much you loved him. I know because of the man you are, always striving to make your father proud. Only these expectations you’re trying to live up to are not your father’s, are they?” She shook her head. “They’re yours.”
Trying to swallow the lump in his throat, Nathanial tightened his hold on her hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles, a comforting motion. “What am I to do? All my life, I’ve wanted to walk in his footsteps, to be the man he was, to…” He hung his head, his gaze searching hers. “What am I to do?”
Stepping forward, Charlaine cupped a hand to his face, a soothing smile upon her lips. “You cannot walk your father’s path and expect to find happiness,” she told him imploringly. “You need to walk your own.” Then she pulled him down into her arms, her own snaking around his shoulders, holding on with a fierceness he had come to expect from her.
Overwhelmed by her words, Nathanial sank into her embrace, breathing in the lavender scent of her skin as he hugged her tightly. She felt so small in his arms, her feet almost lifting off the ground as he straightened, that a part of him feared he could break her. The thought terrified him to the bone, and he pinched his eyes shut.
A soft giggle drifted to his ears. “Oh, would you spin me?” she whispered, exuberance in her voice.
Frowning, Nathanial pulled back and looked down at her, his arms still around her middle. “Pardon me?”
“Would you spin me in a circle?” Charlaine asked, and he could feel her wiggling her feet as they all but dangled in the air. “I’ve always wanted to know what that felt like.” Unadulterated joy stood on her face, and Nathanial found himself swept up in it.
“If you insist,” he said, grinning at her. Then he locked his arms more tightly around her before glancing around them to ensure that no tree stood too close. A moment later, he began to move, his feet stepping on the spot as they turned in circle after circle.
Charlaine’s hands grasped his shoulders as her legs swung outward from the force of the movement. Her eyes were open wide, and laughter spilled from her mouth. “This is wonderful!” she called again and again, and her laughter echoed in his ears long after he went to bed that night. It warmed him and gave him hope because he cared for her.
The thought gave him pause.
After everything that had happened, after his determination not to be made a fool of once more, not to trust another woman ever again, Nathanial realized that he had come to trust Charlaine. She was a good person, genuine and honest. She was a true friend, and he was fortunate that she had found him.
That thought made him smile for it had been her tenaciousness that had led them to where they were now. If it had been up to him, they would have never laid eyes upon each other ever again.
That would have been a grave loss for him.
Perhaps it was that tenaciousness as well as the steadfast belief that happiness could be found anywhere that always led her back to a place where she would not be alone, where people loved her.
It was something to think about.