England looked like a garment that had once shone in bright and vibrant colors, but which had since been washed away, leaving behind something utterly colorless.
Stepping out onto the deck of the Lady Charlotte, Charlaine Palmer lifted her gaze to the gray skies overhead, wondering if it would rain again. Thick, dark clouds lingered, blocking her view of the clear blue heavens she knew from her homeland. The wind blew strong, its chilling fingers touching her skin and raising goosebumps in its wake, making her pull her cloak tighter around herself.
So, this was it.
The place Peter had wanted her to go.
Drawing in a deep breath, Charlaine followed the other passengers as they headed toward the gangway that would lead them off the ship. Every now and then, eyes turned to her and she felt them sweep over her appearance with unabashed disapproval. Although Peter’s old friend, Pierce Byrne, Baron Markham, had provided her with every luxury she could have wished for, including a new wardrobe, Charlaine knew that one look at her sufficed to reveal her as an outsider.
Never would she be one of them.
Never would English upper society look upon her favorably.
And she had yet to set foot on England’s soil.
Indeed, she could act the perfect lady and, yet, all they would see was her ebony hair, her olive skin and eyes that were unlike their own. She was a foreigner, born and raised in Jamaica, a place that even after all she had lost still meant home to her. Never had she been anywhere else, a simple life in a small village with those she loved all she had ever wanted.
Only now they were gone.
Peter, too.
The thought of her dear brother-in-law still brought a tightening to Charlaine’s chest that reminded her only too well of the loss of her family years earlier. A sickness had swept through their village, claiming one life after another, until Peter had been the only one left to Charlaine. He had been born English and come to Jamaica as an officer in the Royal Navy. He had never meant to stay until the day he had stumbled upon Charlaine’s elder sister Amancia in the market.
Charlaine had been a child then, but she had seen the way both of them had all but rocked back on their heels the second their eyes had met across a fruit stand. It had been like a shock wave, a lightning strike, and it had caught them off guard. They had stared at one another, their breaths suddenly coming fast and their hearts hammering in their chests.
At first, Charlaine had been alarmed by her sister’s reaction, but then she had glimpsed the deep smile that had slowly stolen onto Amancia’s face.
Love.
It had been a sight Charlaine would never forget and the memory of it still warmed her heart.
Good things happened.
All the time.
Everywhere.
Most often when one least expected them.
Lifting her chin, Charlaine willed a smile onto her face as she strode forward and found her way off the ship. She ignored the disparaging looks of those around her, her eyes searching the crowd for the man she had not seen since she had been a girl. He had been a friend of Peter’s with the same quick smile and laughing eyes.
He was all she had left now.
Thanks to Peter.
And then he suddenly stood before her, tall and broad and dressed like the English gentleman he was. Still, his dark eyes whispered of an adventurous soul as they looked into hers. As though to confirm her thoughts, the right corner of his mouth quirked before his gaze swept over her from head to toe, no doubt trying to see the girl he had known in the woman who now stood before him. “You’ve grown, dearest Charlie,” Pierce observed with a chuckle before he pulled her into his arms without thought for decorum.
Sinking into his arms, Charlaine clung to him, savoring the warm embrace as much as the knowledge that there was still someone in the world who cared about her. She was not alone. Fate had led her here as it had led Peter to Jamaica years ago. Who knew what she would find in London?
Stepping back, Pierce kept his hands on her shoulders, his gaze seeking hers. “Are you well?” A hint of sadness stood in his eyes and swung in his voice, and Charlaine knew that Peter’s loss had cut him deeply despite the years that had passed.
“I am,” Charlaine told him with a little smile. She had cried countless tears, and now she was done. “Have you always been this pale?” she asked with a teasing frown.
Pierce laughed, a booming, powerful sound that reverberated in her bones, making her feel very much alive. “You’ve not changed, have you, little Charlie?”
Charlaine shrugged. “Why would I change?”
“Peter’s warned me about you,” Pierce told her with a smile. “He advised me to lock the windows. He said you were mule-headed and would drive me mad with your opinions.”
A slight quiver shook her jaw as she tried to blink away the tears that threatened despite her best efforts. “He knew me too well,” she whispered as a lone tear snaked down her cheek.
Gently, Pierce brushed it away. “He also said you were strong and capable and spirited.”
Charlaine chuckled as more tears forced their way to the surface. “Come to think of it, perhaps he didn’t know me all that well.”
Again, Pierce laughed and, again, Charlaine loved him for it. “Come,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go home. There are people there who cannot wait to meet you.” He gestured to a young man. “This is Jacob. He’ll take care of your luggage.” And with a quick smile and a short nod, the young man darted off.
“People?” Charlaine asked as he led her to a fine carriage. “Did you marry and fail to inform us?”
Chuckling, Pierce shook his head. Still, Charlaine thought to detect a certain spark in his eyes that made her wonder. “No, I’m not married. However, I’ve taken in a young girl as my ward. Her name is Daphne.”
Charlaine swallowed as she settled into the seat opposite Pierce. “What happened to her?”
A dark shadow crossed over Pierce’s face. “Her parents were killed.” His lips clamped shut, and Charlaine could see that he did not wish to speak about it.
“How old is she?”
Pierce sighed, clearly relieved that she would not press him. “She’s five, and when I look at her, I often find myself reminded of you.” Again, his dark gaze swept over her, trying to look deeper. “I never know what she might do.”
Charlaine smiled at the deep affection that rang in his voice. “You said people,” she reminded him.
“Yes, I’ve hired a young governess to look after her, Miss Glass. She has a daughter of her own. Susan is a bit younger than Daphne, but the girls are as thick as thieves, always sticking their heads together and whispering.” He grinned. “I swear sometimes I lie awake at night worrying about what they might think up next.”
Charlaine laughed. “Well, I cannot wait to meet them. They sound wonderful.”
“I thought you might think that.” His gaze narrowed. “Do I need to be worried?”
“Always!” Charlaine teased as the strain on her heart lessened.
Indeed, despite its colorlessness, London would no doubt prove to be an adventure like no other. Peter had been right in suggesting she come here. After all, there was nothing left for her in Jamaica while it seemed that London had unexpectedly provided her with a new family. A family to care for and laugh with, and Charlaine could not wait to meet them.
As the carriage rumbled through the streets of London toward Pierce’s townhouse, Charlaine stared at the tall buildings framing the street. Her eyes swept the lords and ladies promenading left and right, their noses slightly upturned, and she wondered what it would be like to live here.
For good.
“Everything feels foreign, does it not?” Pierce asked, his forehead furrowed as he looked at her with concern.
Charlaine nodded. “It does,” she whispered, her eyes still gliding over the world before her. “But you need not worry.” She turned to meet his gaze. “I always find my way.”
Leaning over, he squeezed her hand, a warm smile on his face. “I remember that about you.”
When they finally reached Pierce’s townhouse, he offered her his arm and, together, they climbed the few steps to the front door, which immediately swung open. A tall, thin and almost antique-looking man with no eyebrows appeared in its frame and offered them a low bow, which Charlaine feared might upend his balance. “Welcome home, my lord,” the man said, righting himself.
Pierce smiled at his butler, then looked at Charlaine. “Charlie, this is Albert. If you require anything, he’ll assist you.” Then he turned to look at Albert. “This is Miss Charlaine Palmer. I trust all has been readied for her.”
Albert nodded eagerly. “Of course, my lord.” The expression upon his face never quite changed. However, Charlaine thought she saw a deeply compassionate soul lingering beneath the proper facade of Pierce’s butler.
“Thank you for the warm welcome,” Charlaine told Albert with a smile, fighting to hold back a chuckle when his face turned first pale and then dark red before he mumbled something rather unintelligible and then all but disappeared into thin air. “He is a sweet man, is he not?” Charlaine asked, turning to Pierce.
He nodded, a large smile upon his face. “The best. Now, let’s go find the little rascals.” Again, he offered her his arm and they proceeded up the stairs. “Or are you too tired?”
Charlaine shook her head. “Oh, no, you’ll not hide them from me a moment longer.”
Pierce scoffed. “I’m not hiding anyone.” He paused. “Although, at times, I admit that locating those two can be quite a challenge.”
Charlaine laughed and then stilled as the echo of children’s voice drifted to her ears. Her arm slipped from Pierce’s and she moved onward without thought, drawn to the innocent joy in their voices, beckoning her forward.
Only a few more steps down the hallway and Charlaine came to a wide-open door that led into a spacious room. Tall windows provided enough light despite London’s tendency for gray skies, and she stopped in the doorway, her gaze sweeping over an upturned toy chest, a tent made from sheets and blankets as well as a hairless doll tied to a table leg. Two young girls were kneeling before said doll, their heads bent−one dark and one light−their nimble fingers trying to loosen the knots.
“We need to hurry!” the dark-haired one whispered with some urgency. “Or they’ll capture us as well.”
“I cannot loosen it,” the other, blond-haired girl mumbled under her breath. “It’s too tight. We need a knife.”
“We don’t have a knife,” the dark-haired one stated, no small measure of disappointment swinging in her voice. “But perhaps…we can steal one.”
Charlaine sensed Pierce step up behind her a moment before his booming voice all but shook the room. “Or you could not!”
The girls flinched and spun around, staring at them wide-eyed.
“No knives!” Pierce stressed as he stalked into the room, looking from one girl to the other. “I do believe we’ve already discussed this at great length, have we not?”
Sighing, the dark-haired girl sank down onto the floor, her legs crossed under her dress. “Yes, Father.” Her eyes rose to meet his. “Then how do you suggest we undo the knot? After all, we’ve got to save Mary.” Her hand whipped out, pointing at the hairless doll.
“You must be Daphne,” Charlaine said as she stepped into the room. “It is such a pleasure to meet you. I must say you’re a girl after my own heart.”
“Charlaine!” Pierce grumbled, a warning note in his voice she chose to ignore.
The dark-haired girl scrambled to her feet, her wide eyes sweeping over Charlaine. “You’re our visitor,” she whispered in awe before eager joy danced across her face and she shot forward, grasping Charlaine’s hand. “You must tell us everything. Father says you come from an island. Are there pirates there? Have you ever seen a shark? Where−?”
“Slow down and give our guest a moment to catch her breath,” Pierce intervened with a smile as he beckoned an equally wide-eyed Susan forward. “Charlaine will be staying with us for a long time,” he said as he smiled at her, “so there’ll be plenty of chances for you to ask her all you wish to know.”
“Hello, Susan,” Charlaine greeted the slightly smaller, blond-haired girl. “Knots can, indeed, be quite vexing. Who tied it?”
Susan swallowed, as of yet undecided what to make of their new guest. “I did.”
“And you did a marvelous job,” Charlaine exclaimed, kneeling down and examining the knot at great length. “I don’t think anyone could untie it. It’s such a fine knot.” Susan beamed with pride. “We may need a knife after all,” Charlaine concluded, turning to Daphne.
A triumphant smile lit up little Daphne’s face as she looked up at Pierce. Then her gaze returned to Charlaine. “Perhaps we can get one from the kitchen.”
“That’s a good idea,” Charlaine replied, ignoring the way Pierce’s jaw dropped in disapproval.
Susan stepped forward, her little hands still a bit shaky. “But we’ll have to move quietly,” she whispered with a glance at the door, “or my mother will catch us. She doesn’t like us playing with knives, either.”
“That’s true,” Charlaine agreed with a smile, remembering all the mischief she and her siblings had done long ago. “Perhaps I should take off my shoes. They do make a lot of noise. Who wants to be the lookout?”
Two little hands snapped up into the air.
Shaking his head, Pierce threw up his hands. “Why do I even bother?” Still, the corners of his mouth quirked ever so slightly when his eyes met hers. “You’re worse than both of them together.”
Charlaine grinned. “Life is too short to worry about everything.” She slipped off her shoes, delighted to see the two girls following suit. “Do you want to join us?” she dared Pierce. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”
Closing his eyes, Pierce shook his head in utter disbelief. Still, the hint of a smile played over his face. “I’d rather not,” he told her with arched brows. Then he turned to look at the girls. “Where is Miss Glass?”
Susan’s little mouth opened, however, Daphne was quicker. “She went to fetch us some milk and biscuits.” Her gaze moved to meet Charlaine’s. “We need to hurry. She could be back any second.”
Charlaine felt a wide smile steal onto her face, bringing with it that wonderful feeling of weightlessness and innocent joy. Her heart beat faster, stronger and lighter somehow, and some of the colors returned to the world, whispering of possibilities yet untold.
After all, good things happened.
All the time.
Everywhere.