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Rushing to her window, she concealed herself behind the curtains and there, before her home—
“Benjamin,” she gasped.
Her breath hitched. Not convinced that this was not a dream inspired by her musing, she wiped her eyes. Opening them again, she all but pulled the curtains from their hooks in her surprise. He was still there, unmoved and speaking with a footman. Heavens—how lovely he looked in the early morning light! His hair was lighter for the sun, a deep, rich mahogany. His nose was the most gorgeous arch from when she looked down upon him.
She pressed a few fingers against the glass, enamored by the sight of him. A little confused, too, as he was dressed in the same outfit as the night prior. Then, she remembered; what he had done, what he had said. Her heart twisted in her chest, and she doubled over. Taking control of herself, she used the sill for purchase to draw herself up. He was gone. Another gust of wind through the house followed in his absence.
She cast a glance to her door. The footman had let him in.
“You will cease this madness,” she said through gritted teeth—to herself or to Benjamin, she could not say. Had he come to speak things over with again? Was he determined to ruin her and spill the truth to her father? The possibilities were without end. Without a happy end, at that.
Charlotte reached for her dressing gown, where it hung on the door. There was no need for etiquette now, not if he had seen fit to barge into her home. Thanking the heavens that her father and brother were late risers, she gingerly turned the knob of her door and stepped out into the hallway.
One of the housemaids met her on the stairs, carrying the tools with which to clean out the hearths in the downstairs drawing rooms. The young girl startled, almost missing a step, but Charlotte was quick to save her. Putting a finger before her lips, she signaled the girl’s silence.
“A man has come,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder as though her brother might suddenly materialize at the stairs, wagging a finger at her. “Did George let him in?”
The maid nodded, her eyes so rounded Charlotte feared they might pop out of her head. With little more than athank you, Charlotte hurried down the stairs.
Her heart pattered away in her chest as she trailed down the halls to the parlor. If the footman had been foolishly convinced to let the man in their home, that is where he would be awaiting her. The sun streamed lazily into the entrance room, casting a warm light on the carpets and stairs. Charlotte shielded her tired eyes from the sunlight as she heard voices from the second drawing room.
“Sir, I really must insist—“ said the footman.
“You will insist nothing. I will wait here until the lady rises—“
“I must inform His Grace—“
“Inform His Grace of my visit, and I shall take great pleasure in…”
Benjamin was speaking, his voice a low, stormy rumble against the glory of the morning. Charlotte lost the train of his speech; so loud was the ringing in her ears. She took it as a warning, a message from an angel saying,Turn back, foolish girl! This man will be your undoing!Like so many other words of wisdom, she chose to ignore it.
Hugging the archway, careful not to misstep, she peered into the green drawing room. Almost as quickly, she darted back, the footman having turned on his heel, headed straight for her.
With his head in his hands, he walked from the room, muttering, “My hide… this will cost me my hide! And mother wassoproud,” the rest of his grousing followed him as he trailed down the hallway to the servant stairway.
Pressed straight against the wall, the molding digging painfully into her back, Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to feel Benjamin on the other side of the room, tried to listen for him. A soft clanging was heard, where he had no doubt nosed around and disturbed something—their globe spirit holder, perhaps. She heard him sigh next, a long, dreadful sigh that expressed all the dismay in her heart. Her fingers curled against the walls, seeing if she could feel him there. Would he be warm or cold? Pleading or vengeful? Deciding that she shouldn’t care at all, that they were too far gone anyway for hesitation, she took a wide step into the doorway.
Benjamin didn’t move at first. He stood there, gazing out the window onto the lawn, the light dancing off his shoulders. He ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed his jaw. Charlotte melted at the sight of him. He tugged on the curtains, for what reason she could not guess, and the move was so playful, so curious, so light that she let out a breathy laugh. Incredulous. She was incredulous that a man like him should exist halfway between light and darkness—not halfway, but at both extremes.
And then she was not incredulous butstunnedbecause Benjamin Fletcher turned to look at her.
“I…” she breathed, “I have come to…” She could not string a sentence together, not while he looked at her as though she were an angel, with those terribly green eyes of his. “Why have you come?”
Benjamin looked her over. She could tell from the bags under his eyes that he had slept as much as she had, which was to say, not a wink. “For you, Charlotte.”
“For me… what?” She was grateful that her voice did not betray her stupor. Realizing that anyone could intrude, she closed the door behind her. “I meant what I said,” she lied, “I do not wish to see you ever again.” She averted her eyes. “How did you even convince George to let you in?”
“Well, I…” he stammered, and it was utterly unlike him, “He didn’t have a second to deny me as I barged inside.”
Charlotte found herself smiling, and she quickly brushed the expression away. She was livid—she had to be. She knew better than to allow a man to fool herthrice.More than anything, she wished her heart might align with her head. It did not, even as she said, “If Matthew knows of your coming, he will most likely murder you where you stand.”
“—and do us both a favor,” he joked, but there was no humor in it. Charlotte almost sensed that death was not so terrible a thing for him, not an end but a mercy. She wondered then what he feared more. “I wanted to speak with you differently if you’ll allow it.”
She walked over to the sofa, cinching in the belt of her dressing gown. “Speak differently of what?”
“Of us, Charlotte,” he replied so quickly she hadn’t the time to finish doing up her belt. Her gown fell open, revealing her chemise, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Thereisno us. I told you as much last night.”
