The silence closed in on her as he vacated.
Charlotte stared at the closed, solid wood door. Its pastel blue paint dusky in the candlelight, and she imagined she could see him striding purposefully to his bedroom across the hall. Her willingnesshad somehow been found lacking. She couldn’t help but feel like he had rejected what she had offered.
“I dreamed of you, you know. When I was abed, recovering from my gunshot. I dreamed of you. It was one of my most treasured memories. I believe it kept me alive.”
Charlotte’s cheeks burned with shame as she wrapped her arms around herself and revisited the memories. The heat, their bodies mindless and filled with desire. No walls, no inhibitions. In those days, no stifling rules of society kept them apart.
Who was that woman? Charlotte didn’t recognize her. All she knew was this hesitant, lovelorn wife of a gentleman who had somehow failed to convince her husband she was prepared for marital relations. Perhaps his interest had waned over the years, or maybe he had built up her memory to the point where she could never measure up.
Had she said something to upset him, causing him to pull back?
She offered herself up to him completely. Was that not enough?
Charlotte traced the neckline of her nightgown, wondering if perhaps she should have selected something more revealing. With a shake of her head, she chastised herself. She possessed nothing more tantalizing, only the functional clothing of a woman living in solitude. Her heart raced as she recalled the way he had kissed her. Had she kissed him back properly?
With a heavy sigh, Charlotte sank into her bed, lonely and embarrassed. Resting on her side, she curled up into a ball.
Though she had never been married, she had expectations of the wedding night. Somehow, hers ended up being lonelier than she anticipated.
She should be glad to be spared the duties of a wife.
All she could reach for was a deep sense of disappointment.
Turning over, she resigned herself to the fact that this was the nature of a marriage of convenience. She was a fool to have craved otherwise.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Perry glanced at his pocket watch once more, then tucked it back into his concealed fob pocket.
“I’m not sure how you do it, brother,” Beau said as he stared out of the carriage window. “How you find the strength to leave your wife the day after your wedding is mind-boggling.”
“We are not the typical newly-married couple,” Perry said, his words tasting foul in his mouth. “She understands what I must do now that I am recovered. If there is a threatening presence on your estates, we must uncover it. This will not wait. Mrs. Boots was the beginning, but there is more to the story, now that my life has been threatened. I’m afraid about what we will find at Bodmin.”
Beau’s mouth flattened, his appearance grim. “Indeed. Our driver has been warned to keep an eye on his surroundings at all times. I’m convinced we will discover that it was all an accident.”
Perry cast his gaze over the lush golden fields of wheat outside the carriage window. Once they passed the familiar cluster of trees, the sight of Bodmin took his breath away. He always loved coming home to the estate in his youth. Though he had gadded about Fermoy a lot more as he had developed an affection for Charlotte, his heart belonged first and foremost tohis family’s estate. He escaped here many times when the oppressive presence of his father weighed heavily on him. The former duke rarely ventured into the country as he got older, claiming that it kept him away from his duties too long. At some point, it seemed as though Perry stopped coming as well, preferring to stay at his estate near London. His father despised being out of touch and giving his enemies a rest from the iron grip of his power over them. The older Spencer was a hard, cruel man. It seemed a waste to curse a dead man, though Perry was still bitter at the role his father had to play in keeping him from Charlotte. From his child.
The man had been buried for over a year, yet Perry still found ways to damn his very existence. He relished the new beginning Rufus Spencer’s death had wrought for his family. Long-protected secrets were free to come out.
Anger simmered low in his chest. It wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. He was on a far more important mission: protecting his family. The ghosts of the past could be ignored a little longer.
“What is the strategy once we arrive?” Perry asked, his eyes moving to watch his brother. “Do you think someone will admit to shooting me?”
Beau chuckled. “Most likely not. I believe we should talk to Mrs. Boots privately first, then go on from there. Hutchins gave me a thorough explanation of his investigation, so I suspect the shooter wasn’t from Fermoy. The magistrate has agreed to join us as soon as we send for him. I purposely didn’t announce our arrival, hoping to catch the villain by surprise.”
Perry was shocked at the appearance of the estate once he emerged from the confines of the Duke of Bridgewater’s carriage. The neglect was unthinkable; he could only imagine what his brother thought as they took in the changes to the estate. The gardens were in shambles, overgrown and wild. Upon entering the grand building, Perry noted the estate had fallen into disrepair. It was kept clean and tidy, but its appearance fell far beneath theexpectations they had been accustomed to during their years spent at the estate.
The butler, Woodsten, seemed surprised when the Spencer brothers appeared on their doorstep. He cut an imposing figure, though his uniform was more worn than usual. Woodsten was always immaculate in his appearance and followed the dictates of society exquisitely. His black hair had taken a salt-and-pepper appearance since Perry had seen him last. The wrinkles on his brow were more pronounced. Though time had passed, Perry assumed that the condition of the estate would concern Woodsten greatly, as he had filled the position of butler for nearly twenty years. The decline would be very apparent to him.
“Your Grace, Lord Spencer, I was not expecting you. My apologies. Had we known, we would have been more prepared.” The butler opened and closed his fists at his side nervously.
“I imagine. I have a lot of questions. We require a word with Mrs. Boots in my office, please. Will you fetch her?” Beau asked, his face grim. He handed his hat to the butler.
Woodsten cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m afraid I am truly stricken that you should see the estate in such disrepair,” the butler said, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “We have had issues with our steward of late. My sincerest apologies, Your Grace.”
Beau nodded, patting the butler on the shoulder. “So we have gathered. Let us speak more in a private setting. You can fill us in on what has been happening. I am much aggrieved to see that the estate hasn’t been well cared for in my absence. With the death of my father, I see that I have shirked some of my responsibilities in not coming here sooner. I seek to remedy the situation as soon as possible.”
Perry followed his brother to the office, where dustcloths covered most of the furniture and the air in the room was stuffy, indicating that the windows had not been opened in a long time. Dust floated in the air, a scattering of stars across the sunbeams,as Perry uncovered a chair across from his brother, who was clearing off the desk and his own seating area.
