Page 56 of A Perilous Passion

She still hadn’t told him what the letter contained. What was she hiding?

“I’m sorry. My mission is foremost in my mind and I feel I’ve lost valuable time. If you would only tell me what the letter is about, I can be easy.”

Her glare grew even more Arctic. “By what authority do you ask for the contents of my letters? Seriously, Rafe, we’ve taken you in, patched you up, and risked our own safety for you. I’ve even lied to my family to cover for you. And you repay me with suspicion? I’m not impressed, not impressed, at all. I thought we were friends, but I see that’s impossible, for how can there be friendship where there’s no trust?”

Agony sliced through his heart at her frosty condemnation. “Charlotte, please believe me, I am your friend. I do care for your welfare, and I hate to see you upset. If there’s anything I can do to alleviate the problem that letter has presented you with, you have only to ask.”

“Pray don’t trouble yourself on my account,” was the harsh response. “I think it best you leave my room before Mama discovers you here. She’s torn a strip off you once and won’t fail to do so again, no matter how important you are, or how heroic you’ve been. And this time, she’ll be more than justified.”

She swept past him to the tallboy and slammed the drawer shut, then angrily rattled things around on the dressing table before swiping up a pair of scissors, which she waved menacingly in the air.

As she was now firmly stationed between him and the tallboy, he had no alternative but to retreat. Her disapproval felt like a knife between the shoulder blades as he approached the door.

He hated that he’d upset her. It felt as if he’d just kicked a loyal puppy.

As he let himself out onto the landing, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So much for that relationship.

Perhaps it was just as well they should part enemies rather than friends. He was grateful for all she’d done, but the delicious Miss Charlotte Allston had proved too a great distraction to him. He was making mistakes.

And mistakes cost lives.

But his heart couldn’t let her go like this. The enmity that had sprung up between them felt like a sword through his insides. The pain, coupled with his guilt, made him feel more wretched than he’d ever felt before in his life.

Was there anything he could do to make it up to her? To assuage the guilt?

Or to make him feel less miserable about letting her go?

Suddenly, it came to him. He could investigate Corporal Triggs’s allegation against her family. If he proved her innocent of wrongdoing, he could quell the rumors being whispered about her. But if he proved beyond doubt she was Abraham Cutler’s daughter, and involved in his criminal activities, Rafe would be absolved. He’d know he was right not to trust her.

Either way, his heart, given time, would surely mend.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Charlotte had absolutely no intention of missing Rafe. He deserved neither her care nor her concern. He’d been poking about in her personal things, for heaven’s sake! How could she possibly forgive such a trespass?

She called herself every name under the sun for having been foolish enough ever to like him, for being so blind to the flaws in his character. He’d thoroughly disappointed her. The feelings she’d developed for him must be delusions arising from loneliness and her vulnerability since Justin’s exile.

Justin.

It was thanks to him she had discovered Rafe’s duplicitous nature. For, it was a second letter from Justin that Rafe had seen her reading.

And yes, the letter had entirely overset her. In it, Justin had informed her he’d decided to desert from his regiment in Scotland. She was terribly afraid for him. Desertion was punishable by death.

It wasn’t the hardships that had spurred him to this desperate act—indeed, he proclaimed himself so strong now, she’d think him a bare-knuckle boxer when she saw him again. What had tipped the balance was the fact he was forced to take orders from fellows far stupider than himself.

To a clever man like Justin, that must have been infuriating. But surely not serious enough to risk deserting over? He should swallow his pride and, instead, strive to become an officer himself. An intelligent man could rise up the ranks, could he not, and one day be as successful as Wellesley or Moore? But if Justin deserted, he’d ruin his chances for any kind of normal life, and bring shame on his family. And if the army ever caught him, he’d be shot.

She was terribly worried he’d try to go home or attempt to visit her in Fortuneswell. He couldn’t know the place was crawling with militia and spies like Rafe and his men. But there was no return address on the letter, no way of writing him back to warn him.

For all she knew, he might already be dead. It was a very long way from Scotland to Dorset.

And then there was the matter of Rafe’s betrayal. Their mutual physical desire was undeniable. But he didn’t trust her. And that was insupportable in either friend or lover.

Thank God the letter was tucked into her bosom, safe from his prying eyes. He was the king’s man, duty bound to pass information of a deserter on to the authorities. She might be incriminated, as well, for keeping the letter a secret.

All these imponderables drove her outdoors, desperate for a breath of sea air. It was late morning, and although it was the first of October, it was warm for the time of year. Mama gave strict orders she should take Aunt Flora with her, and a basket so they could harvest some marram grass for flower arrangements. However, on arriving at the lane, which led to the coast, Flora opted to visit Mrs. Carboys instead. Charlotte was permitted to continue alone, so long as she didn’t wander out of sight, which meant no further than the derelict Oldfield Farm on top of the ridge.

All was quiet as she ascended the steeply sloping path, and soon she was at the top. A stiff breeze flapped her skirts about her legs, bringing a cooling calm to her fevered mind. In the distance, the enticing waves flickered silver and white, making her long to be on the strand picking up seashells, feeling the wet sand push up between her toes, and making sand fortresses like the children did.