“Truly, you do not know what this means to me,” Charlotte said, glancing at the letter in her trembling hand.
Batty gave her an ingratiating smile and gently patted her on her forearm. “I am glad that you and Dominic have found each other. I do worry about that boy.”
Batty disappeared before Charlotte could ask her what she meant. She looked at the folded paper in her hand and glanced around her. The gardens seemed mostly deserted. She took a steadying breath and began to read the letter that everyone seemed to be talking about:
My Precious Plum.Charlotte rolled her eyes at the nickname but found herself smiling in spite of herself.
I have spent so long trying to put my thoughts into words. Yet nothing has felt quite right. Therefore, I ask your forgiveness, for this will likely be imperfect, but at least, it will be honest.
She scanned through the paragraph, blushing as he talked about how much he admired her kindness, her compassion.
“Does he mean any of this?” Charlotte murmured to herself as she continued reading the letter. “Or is it all part of the ruse?”
Lavender and violets will forever make me think of you. And the gift you made of the former will mean more to me than I can say. When you gave me that lavender, you gave me more than flowers. You gave me hope.
Charlotte’s breath caught, and her heart seemed to trill in her chest. “I can see why Georgiana and Emmeline were so emotional. This feels… real.”
She tried to remember his face when she had given him the lavender. To see if it matched with the depth of sentiment conveyed in his letter, but she could not bring it to mind. She could only see his smile and before that, the brittle, scared anger.
She continued to read his letter, breathing deeply as she did. The scent of juniper and pine seemed to permeate his words, overpowering the smell of ink on paper. It made her feel as though Dominic were standing beside her.
She read:
I keep thinking about white roses, and if I could ever hope to be worthy of you. How could I hope to be worthy of you? To even dare to proclaim that I think so seems arrogant to the point of idiocy. And I would, at least, like to irritate you only a minimal amount with this letter. But as I wrestle with whether or not I am worthy of you, I realise that it does not matter.
At least, it does not matter what I think. Only you can declare me worthy. All I can do is spend the rest of my life proving that you were right.
Her breath caught, and she read the words again and again. “Only you can declare me worthy. All I can do is spend the rest of my life proving that you were right.”
The letter ended with a hastily scrawled signature. She read it again, hoping it would calm her treacherous heart.You do not even know if there is any truth to his words. This could all be some elaborate game.
“But what if it is not? Do I even want these words to be true?” Charlotte murmured, looking down at the paper in her hand.
She felt as though her chest was in a vice, as though a hand had clamped around her and was forcing her not to breathe. Her head swam, and she forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly. Juniper and pine seemed to wash over her, and she realised that she wanted Dominic to mean what he had said.
“But… why?” Charlotte shook her head. “He is a rake, and I have already made that mistake.”
But is he really?a treacherous voice asked her in the depths of her mind. She thought about everything she knew of him, everything she had seen of him.
“He is charming, of that there can be no doubt.” Charlotte was walking, barely paying attention to anything around her. “It is easy to see why women would be drawn to him, but that does not mean it is reciprocated.
“He is thoughtful. And caring. He has a soft heart. And kind eyes.” Charlotte ticked off his qualities on her fingers and then glanced down at the letter. “He says he wants to spend the rest of his life proving that he is worthy of me, but do I even think him worthy?”
“Drat! I do. Or if not, I want him to prove that he is.” Realisation struck her like a brick. “What is wrong with me? What does this mean? This was not supposed to happen!”
She glowered at the letter in her hands, frustration and hope seeming to war within her chest. She felt as though she were being torn apart. Her heart seemed to swoop with delight that there might be some truth to the letter.
Or perhaps it was simply fear? Maybe that was what she was feeling. After all, it was so unexpected.
“One way or another, I am going to get some answers. And there is only one man who can give them to me.” Charlotte gritted her teeth and glanced around for someone who might know where Dominic was.
“Have you seen Duke Verimore?” she asked a passing servant, trying to keep her voice pleasant, even as her emotions seemed to tumble around her.
“Yes, Your Ladyship. I believe he is in the blue drawing room,” the servant said. “Do you know which one that is?”
“Is it the one in the West Wing that overlooks the statue of Apollo?” Charlotte asked.
“That is the one.” The servant smiled at her.
