Charlotte patted the sleek neck of her mare as she waited near the entrance of Hyde Park. Fog lingered in the low areas and a chill in the air made her grateful she’d worn one of her warmer riding habits.
Her thoughts had been filled with James since their kiss in the garden the night before last. But as the minutes passed and there was no sign of him, she began to worry if he’d forgotten their plan. Even worse, he might’ve decided not to come. If only he knew how much she appreciated their time together. Then again if he did know...
She halted her swirling thoughts and sighed. Her adventures meant little without him at her side. How that had come to pass so quickly, she didn’t know.
He’d made no secret of his mixed feelings about these adventures. But she truly believed they were as entertaining for him as they were for her. Except the last outing when they’d nearly been caught. If Edward had realized she was standing beside James at Madame Gaston's, he would’ve been livid with both of them. She certainly didn’t want to cause a rift between the two men she cared about.
Her breath caught at the realization. She truly did care for James. He was much different than he’d been before the war. But she admired the serious man he’d become as well. He cared deeply for others and acted with honor. How she wished he didn’t seem so unhappy when he thought no one was watching.
If he joined her this morning, she would ask for a less risky outing. Though she had a few ideas, she hadn’t decided what would fulfill her goal of collecting enjoyable memories but still be tame enough that James would agree.
Her groom, who sat on a horse a few feet away, cleared his throat. No doubt he thought that whoever she was waiting for wasn't coming, and they should proceed with their ride. But Charlotte wasn't ready to give up yet.
If James didn't meet her, she would simply find another way to reach out to him. She need only think of the risk he’d taken, throwing pebbles at her window to make certain she was well, for her heart to squeeze.
She dearly wanted to discover what caused the shadows in his eyes. Though she wasn't certain how much he would tell her, she hoped by asking questions, he would understand how much she cared.
Based on the comments of others, he wasn't the only man who had difficulty adjusting to life after time on the battlefield. Perhaps if she knew more about what he’d experienced or what bothered him the most about his memories, she could somehow help.
She checked her pin watch and realized he was a quarter of an hour late. That wasn't like him. She sincerely hoped this wasn’t the beginning of the end of their association.
With one last glance around, her heart heavy, Charlotte turned her mare toward the park, wanting to give them both a little fresh air and exercise before returning home. She had only walked her horse a short distance when the sound of hooves approaching caught her notice and James rode up alongside her.
“Good morning.” Her heart lifted at the sight of him despite his somber expression. “I’d given up on you.”
He glanced at the groom who followed them before looking back at her. “Despite my firm belief that I shouldn't join you, I decided I owed you an explanation at the very least.”
She didn't want to hear whatever he had to say. She already knew the reasons they shouldn't continue with their adventures. If any of her family discovered them, she would be in serious trouble. And there was always the risk of someone outside of the family recognizing them. Yet she couldn't bear to think of stopping. Not when these jaunts had already given her so much joy. Not when her future looked so bleak.
And not when it meant she wouldn’t have more time with James. The worry caught her breath. But she wouldn’t let him see that.
“What if I told you I wanted to go somewhere with less risk?” She glanced at him to see if there was hope of convincing him to reconsider.
He lifted a brow as if in disbelief.
“Our near-miss has made me more cautious. I should like to go somewhere new to both of us.”
A mixture of curiosity and caution filled his expression. “Such as?”
The fact that he’d asked rather than outright refused renewed her hope. “Have you ever visited the conservatory at Balston Park?”
His incredulous and slightly confused expression might have been comical under other circumstances.
Balston Park was home to the Duke and Duchess of Willingham. Upon inheriting the estate located just outside of London, they’d taken the unfashionable home in poor condition and completely redesigned the interior along with the gardens. The conservatory was said to be stunning, made to resemble a forest wonderland.
“Have you already visited?” The thought was disappointing. She dearly wanted them both to experience something new.
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Excellent.” She smiled. “When shall we venture there?”
“Unless you have an invitation, never. To my knowledge, it’s not open to the public.”
“That is a concern, but surely we can find a way around that. They provide tours to a few people.”
“Hmm. Do you happen to know the duke or duchess?”
She wrinkled her nose, not appreciating him pointing out a flaw in her plan. “No, but I refuse to allow that to keep us from viewing it. I shall think upon the problem and gather possible solutions.”
A hint of a smile curled James’ lip. “And I shall look forward to hearing them. I have no doubt they’ll be highly entertaining.”
“Perhaps you could provide a suggestion or two.”
“Considering the fact that I have already fulfilled my promise to escort you to not just one but two places as well as two rides in Hyde Park, I will leave this one in your hands.”
His obvious doubt only made her more determined.
He held up a gloved finger to catch her attention. “I assume I don’t need to clarify that our entry must be of legal means. I refuse to break the law.”
She gave a beleaguered sigh, although the idea of sneaking in had crossed her mind. Did he know her so well?
“Strike anything of that sort from your consideration,” he added with a pointed look.
“Very well.” There had to be a way to garner an invitation to view the conservatory. “A solution will arise.” She nodded with only a small measure of confidence.
“Do let me know when you have discovered it.”
“Excellent. Shall we place a wager?” The amused gleam in James’ eyes was payment enough, for it chased away the shadows. She simply had to find a way to visit the conservatory with him so she might find a way to make him smile once again.
~*~
“Your brother may very well be the most irksome man alive,” Margaret declared as she joined Charlotte along the fringes of the dance floor at the Evanston Ball.
“Has it taken you this long to notice?” Charlotte couldn't help but smile at her friend’s irritation.
Margaret waved a hand in the air, a clear sign of how annoyed she was. “He asked me to dance and of course I said yes. But then he spent the majority of our time looking over his shoulder as if in search of someone else. I finally asked if he wished to stop, and he acted as though I insulted him.” Margaret shook her head. “Men. Is it any wonder I have no wish to marry?”
Charlotte glanced around, hoping no one overheard. Margaret had confided how she couldn’t possibly leave her mother to care for her father on her own a few weeks ago. Charlotte had been shocked, but she understood her reasoning. Margaret’s decision to remain a spinster was all the more admirable given how Charlotte felt about her own father.
She wondered if Margaret found reasons not to like men so her decision to remain unmarried—something that was nearly every lady’s sole purpose—was less difficult. People could often talk themselves in or out of believing anything they wanted to, given the proper motivation.
Charlotte didn’t argue with her friend’s determination to help her mother and understood her reasoning. What husband would want his wife to spend all her time with her father rather than him? Caroline and Annabelle had managed to find a reasonable balance but that was only because Margaret and her mother were home every day.
“I wonder who he looked for.” Charlotte couldn’t imagine it was a lady. Her brother seemed in no hurry to marry. Perhaps he was looking for James just as she was. She also kept watch for Lord Samuelson, hoping not to see him.
Margaret glared at her. “Does that make a difference? Why couldn't he have waited to do so after the dance ended?”
“He should have,” Charlotte agreed hurriedly. “I shall mention it to him at the first opportunity.”
“Please don’t bother.” Margaret tightened her lips. “I doubt he'll ask me again, so it doesn't matter.”
Charlotte knew it did. Margaret enjoyed dancing and since she didn't attend many functions, each dance was special and something to enjoy. “Edward must be out of practice with proper social behavior if he acted that way.” He didn’t attend many balls either though that didn’t excuse rudeness.
Margaret caught her gaze, her expression suggesting she was ready to change the subject. “I would love to know if you have chosen your next adventure.”
“I have, though I'm not yet certain how to accomplish it.”
Margaret's eyes widened. “Do tell. What is it?”
Charlotte glanced about to make sure no one was listening. “I would like to visit the Balston Park Conservatory.”
“I've heard it's amazing.” Margaret’s eyes lit up. “When are you going?”
“Considering that I don't have an invitation nor does Viscount Redmond, I'm not certain if let alone when.” In the two days since her ride in Hyde Park with James, she had yet to discover a way to do so.
“There has to be someone who knows the Duke and Duchess of Willingham well enough to request a private tour on your behalf.” Margaret stared into the distance as if expecting a solution to appear.
“I wouldn't want to bother them, of course, but perhaps the steward or another servant could give us a tour. However, I have no idea how to go about discovering if that’s possible.”
“It must be since so many speak of how wonderful it is.” Margaret narrowed her eyes. “Your father—”
Charlotte raised a brow in disbelief. “Do not bother to finish that sentence.” Not for one moment did she want to involve him in any way.
“Of course.” Margaret nodded. “How silly of me. Let us think about who we know.” Margaret smiled as she gave Charlotte's arm an excited squeeze. “I shall start with Aberland.”
Charlotte gasped. “That is an excellent idea. Do you think he would help us?”
“If he knows the duke well enough, I am certain he would.”
The Earl of Aberland had married Margaret's eldest sister, Caroline, several years ago. He was well connected and well respected among the ton.
“I hate to have you ask a favor on my behalf,” Charlotte said. Though Charlotte wanted to be alone with James, she didn’t want to do so at Margaret’s expense. “Why don’t you accompany us as well if he can garner an invitation?”
“Think nothing of it. My brother-in-law is always willing to help. If he doesn't know the duke, he might know someone who does.”
Hope filled Charlotte for the first time since the idea had come to mind. She couldn't wait to see the look on James’ face if Aberland was able to manage this. This outing might provide the perfect opportunity for her to ask about his experiences in battle. She’d longed to do so during their ride in Hyde Park, but the moment hadn't seemed right.
“Aberland and Caroline are coming by on the morrow. I shall be sure to ask him and keep you apprised.”
Charlotte grinned. “I can't thank you enough, Margaret. James seemed highly doubtful it would be possible. In fact, we have a small wager on the outcome. I look forward to winning it.”
But not as much as she looked forward to spending more time with him. With luck, another kiss might be in her future.
~*~
James couldn't believe his eyes as he looked outside his carriage window. The Duke and Duchess of Willingham’s estate was even more impressive than he’d expected.
“Isn't it beautiful?” Charlotte asked.
He turned to look at her where she sat on the opposite bench along with her maid, both staring out the window with awe. Charlotte was the one who was beautiful, but he refrained from saying so.
“I still can't believe you managed to garner an invitation for us.” James shook his head.
“We have Margaret to thank. Her brother-in-law, the Earl of Aberland, is on good terms with the duke, who said he’d be pleased to allow us to look inside. His steward is to provide us a tour.”
“I just hope none of those involved in the planning of this feel the need to discuss it with others.” He didn’t care for the idea of Edward or Lord Wynn discovering what he and Charlotte were doing.
“According to what Aberland told Margaret, the duke and duchess receive many requests for visitors to tour the conservatory, so it isn’t unusual. Hopefully, that means it would be unlikely for the subject to arise.”
“That is good to hear.” His nerves eased slightly.
James had picked up Charlotte just off Bond Street where her mother thought she was shopping. He could only hope no one had witnessed her getting into his carriage. As with any of these outings, a multitude of things could go wrong.
But another look out the window at the impressive estate with its long, tree-lined drive and the imposing facade had him setting aside some of his worries. Charlotte’s excitement eased the rest. She was the reason he was here. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he told himself to stay away from her. Something about her pulled at him, allowing him to ignore the shadows and focus on the light—her light.
Nothing eased his emotional angst the way she did. Not drinking or gambling or gaming hells. Living as a rogue was losing its appeal and Charlotte was to blame. Even now, he couldn’t help but watch her as she took in the scenery. Viewing the world through her eyes lifted his spirits, making him feel hopeful.
Per the instructions Aberland provided, the carriage passed by the front steps of the house and moved towards the west wing where the conservatory stood.
The day was a fine one with the sun shining bright and the air relatively warm. It seemed a shame to spend hours inside, but perhaps they would be permitted to walk through the extensive gardens as well.
A liveried footman awaited them and came forward to lower the steps and open the door after the carriage halted.
“Good day, my lord, my lady.” The footman bowed. “Welcome to Balston Park Conservatory.”
“Thank you.” James stepped out then helped Charlotte to alight.
“If you will follow me,” the footman said.
James offered his arm to Charlotte and glanced over his shoulder to make certain the maid followed. She seemed as much in awe at the structure as they were.
The footman led them to a door set among the numerous glass panes of the building which were interspersed with open windows. “Mr. Ruxton, the steward, is waiting inside for you.” He held open the door with another bow.
James followed Charlotte through the door and breathed in the humid air heavy with the scents of moist earth, the tang of exotic flowers, and a mix of other lush vegetation.
The steward greeted them with a smile. “Welcome. I’m Mr. Ruxton. Have either of you visited before?”
“We have not yet had the pleasure,” James advised him as he took in the bountiful foliage with flowers he’d never seen before. A glance at Charlotte showed her as fascinated as he was.
“I have no doubt you will enjoy your visit. Allow me to share a little bit about its history and how it’s organized. Then you may wander the various paths as you wish.” He escorted them deeper into the large building, explaining how swampland had been cleared to build the estate in the thirteenth century, then expanded in the past decade.
Charlotte appeared to drink in every word, and James hid a smile. Her thirst for knowledge was one of the many reasons he admired her.
“The latest innovations in construction techniques allowed for the cast-iron columns and glass roof as well as the vaulted ceiling,” the steward said as he pointed out the features. “As you can see, the large windows are left open when the weather permits. The glass roof is one of the few in all of England. There are several walkways through the conservatory, all of which provide a lovely view. If you have the inclination, you are also welcome to tour the gardens outside. It’s a beautiful day for it.” He gestured toward the far end of the conservatory where three sets of doors stood open to the garden.
The steward gave more details than they could have asked for, explaining the duke's vision for the conservatory.
“One of the highlights is the curved stream with goldfish and mossy banks. Several small bridges cross the stream. We have over three thousand varieties of plants and flowers inside.” Mr. Ruxton led them to where the path divided. “In general, the right side of the conservatory resembles an English forest while the left side resembles a jungle with the stream in the middle. I will leave you to explore on your own and return later to answer any questions you might have. Enjoy your visit.” He bowed and left them.
James glanced at Charlotte. “Which path would you like to take first?”
She looked about with wonder, her gaze lingering on the abundance of plants and trees that created a canopy overhead. Then her gaze met his, their depths sparkling with an excitement which increased his own. “You choose.”
“But it's your adventure.”
“No,” she said with a smile. “It's our adventure. Then she tightened her hold on his arm. “Lead the way.”
With a lightness in his heart that he hadn't felt in a long time, he took the path on the far right.
They wandered along with the maid following, pausing often to look around, taking turns at pointing out dahlias, nerines, lilies, and fuschia not to mention numerous roses. The variety was staggering. James was pleased the duke and duchess allowed a few visitors as it seemed a shame to keep all this for just one family.
“I hope in the future they open this to the public for everyone to enjoy,” Charlotte said.
James smiled. “I was thinking the same.” He was surprised at how often they agreed on various topics.
Nearly an hour had passed when they returned to where the paths converged to select another path. As far as he could tell, they had the entire place to themselves.
“If you don't mind, my lady,” the maid said, “I will wait here.” She pointed toward a bench nestled beneath a flowering tree.
“Of course.” Charlotte nodded. “We shall return soon.”
James escorted her down another walkway, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. “The duke seems to have collected every type of tree that grows in England and beyond.”
“Amazing.”
While James appreciated the conservatory, viewing it with Charlotte made it far more special. Her enthusiasm for all they saw added to his own. Moments such as this made him feel unbroken. As if he could hope for a future after all—one where he might have a wife and a family.
He paused to face her. “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked, her gaze holding his.
“For making this possible.”
Her sweet smile gave him pause. “You helped make it so as well.”
“I’m not the one who was able to request assistance from the Earl of Aberland. I owe you our wager.”
“Well, if you hadn’t accompanied me, I wouldn’t be here.” Her gaze dropped to his lips, lighting a spark of desire deep inside him.
The urge to kiss her flooded him. Never mind that he’d told himself in the dark of the night that he needed to keep his distance. He blamed his lack of will on the heady fragrance in the air as he leaned close, her lips but a breath away.
Anticipation filled him when she remained where she was rather than drawing back. That was as much of an invitation as he needed. He pressed his lips to hers, then repeated the gentle assault, savoring each taste of her. At last, he deepened the kiss, hoping she would allow him entrance.
She shifted closer and did exactly as he wished, her hands resting on his chest. He swept his tongue along hers, the sharpness of his desire shocking. Something about this woman called to him, warming the cold places deep within him. When her arms wrapped around him and held tight, his soul calmed.
He told himself to ease back, to take this slow. But need took over, and he crushed her against his length. Did she realize how much he desired her? He shifted to kiss the edge of her jaw, the softness of her neck. Now that he’d started, he feared he couldn’t stop. His pulse thundered as time slowed.
“James?” she whispered.
“Yes?” He forced himself to draw back to look at her. Why couldn’t he seem to remember that his attraction to her couldn’t lead anywhere?
Yet as he gazed into her passion-filled eyes, he wished that weren’t true. He wished he’d come home from the war happy and whole, proud of what had been accomplished, and resolved to what he’d witnessed.
But he hadn’t. Encouraging her to think a future was possible wasn’t fair.
Before she could do or say something that might change his mind, he released her.
“Charlotte,” he began, hoping she would understand. “You deserve someone special. Someone who will give you the happy life you deserve.”
The passion in her eyes dimmed. She took a step back, her lashes hiding her eyes. “But not you?”
“I am not who you think I am.” How could he possibly explain? He couldn’t share the horrible things he’d witnessed, and his memories hadn't faded. In fact, they seemed stronger than ever, especially in the middle of the night. A peaceful afternoon with her at his side didn’t change the truth.
“I believe I’m coming to know you well.” Those long lashes lifted, and her gaze met his. “And I very much respect and admire the man you are.”
He shook his head. “You deserve so much better.” A man who wasn’t broken.
“Someone such as Lord Samuelson?” Worry flared in her expression.
“Samuelson? What does he have to do with you?”
“He is the man my father intends to be my future husband.” The catch in her throat caused him to clench his fist.
James turned away, not wanting her to see his disbelief. Lord Samuelson was significantly older than her with few admirable qualities that James knew of. He was well known for gambling on horse races and spending far too much money on mistresses.
The idea of him with Charlotte was inconceivable. In James’ opinion, Samuelson was too similar to the Earl of Wynn and would make a terrible husband for her. But James was in no position to protest when he couldn’t make it through a day without his memories dragging him into despair.
“I have no doubt he would make a worthy suitor,” he managed. “More so than I could.”
“James, if you would tell me...” Her voice drifted off, but he already knew what she wanted. Was she frightened to finish the request? She should be.
“Tell you what?” He braced himself.
“I have no doubt that the war was incredibly difficult. That the conditions were terrible. I'm sure you saw many die.” She paused as if hoping he’d fill in the details.
But he couldn't. Even her vague description conjured up terrible memories that clawed at the back of his throat. He could only shake his head again.
“I would very much like to know more.” Her gloved hand reached for his clenched fist and held tight. “Even if nothing can happen between us, I want to understand.”
“No one should endure such atrocities. I will not—cannot—be the one to tell you about it.”
“But—”
He turned aside. “What purpose would be served by filling your mind with the same images that fill mine? The ones that give me nightmares and keep me from sleeping through the night. The memories that cause me to become unhinged when startled. I would not wish that on anyone.”
“Surely speaking of it to someone, even me, would ease your burden.”
“A confession of sorts?” He scoffed, unable to say more. Not when he couldn't get the words past the ball in his throat. Where did he even begin sharing the misery, the fear, including his own cowardice? He wasn't proud of the terror and panic that had weakened his knees and made it difficult to think when they’d been under attack.
While he had never run from battle, he’d certainly considered it. And he hated that knowledge. If everyone realized his true nature, he would be shunned from polite society and labeled a coward. Each day, he waited to see if someone would realize that he was no hero. That he had only been in the right place at the right time and chosen not to run.
Even worse was the worry that he would somehow let the truth slip. Just like the exhibit falling at the museum had thrown him back onto the battlefield. What might happen that would reveal the truth?
“James.”
He forced himself to look at Charlotte and the concern in her gaze tore at him, just as his mother’s worry did.
“Not a confession,” she said reassuringly. “Merely speaking with a friend.”
He shook his head, unable to fathom doing so. For if he did, her look of concern would surely change to disgust. “Let us look at the outdoor garden. I need some fresh air.”