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Chapter Five
Agatha pretended interestat something outside the window while she struggled to think of what to say. She owed him an explanation, but there was more. She needed to know their connection. There had always seemed an unfathomable level of trust with Bentley, one she had never held with other servants. She had never understoodwhyuntil now. “Bentley, I appreciate you assisting me and helping me secure these items for the orphanage.”That was a good start, she supposed.
“You are welcome,” he returned, a note of puzzlement to his voice.
Agatha had never excelled at whimsy and subtlety. “I expect I should get right to the point,” she said. The footman chose that moment to move, and the carriage took off in a lurch, causing the two of them to jolt back against the dark blue leather squabs. The air stilled between them. “I have recalled a few things... in a dream. And frankly, the dream has been more like a lifetime of memories—and after dwelling on the details, I recalled much more.”
He started to say something but appeared to change his mind. “What things are you speaking of, my lady?” Charles finally asked.
As a young woman, Society had opened her up to a wide circle of people. What had been so special about this man? “Did we meet at a ball?” she prodded, suddenly afraid he would not know of what she was referring.
“Are you suggesting you may recall me from a ball?” he asked, confused.
She dipped her head in affirmation, fearing what he might say next. Her heart beat a tattoo against the wall of her chest in anticipation.
“We met years ago. I forget who hosted it, but you were the prettiest debutante there,” he whispered, taking a deep breath. “I secured an introduction from your mother and asked you to dance.”
“So ’tis all true. We danced,” she whispered, feeling relieved and encouraged. “I was unsure I had not imagined it.” She paused. “You were handsome in your regimentals.” Agatha cast him a shy glance.
He smiled. “The next day, I brought flowers, hoping to court you, but was turned away at the door. I tried several times with the same result. Unfortunately, my unit was called up, and we left quickly for Ireland.”
Mother.Agatha felt guilty disparaging her mother, but she recognized Mother’s hand in this. Father had encouraged her to see where her Season took her, hoping that she would find a match. She realized now that both parents did what they felt was right. When her three Seasons failed to bring a suitor to scratch, Father arranged for her to marry. He did not understand that Mother had been screening and vetoing potential suitors from the dancefloor, ultimately forcing Agatha to hide among the wallflowers.
“I returned,” he revealed. “When my assignment ended, I came back, but you had married. I resumed my army career until I was injured fighting Napoleon at Rolica and was sent home. My family’s farm was barely managing and had been inherited by my older brother. There was nothing for me there. I turned to service...”
“And my husband hired you,” she finished.
“When I realized he was your husband, I had planned to resign, but the earl died and you seemed to need me here,” he continued.
Thomas had been right about everything. “I have always wished I had danced that second time with you. Mother insisted I aim higher and watched each dance as if it were a transaction. I should have followed my own counsel. I have often regretted that,” she lamented.
He reached over and covered her hand with his. Awareness pulsed through her. She dared not move her hand, lest the feeling leave. She wanted more.
“I saw her,” he said. His voice was low but held no hint of condemnation. “I saw your mother signal you before I could ask for a second dance. I had not understood.”
“Yet, you are here now,” she murmured. Her motherhadused her fan to signal her. “She was only trying to help me,” she said, unusually defensive of her mother. “I never saw you again after that night, and now I understand. I realize now that she was doing what she felt was best for me, even if it did not turn out to be.”
Hope mingled with memory. She had danced little. There had been a few young men; however, her mind could not conjure the image of another. He had been here, with her, all this time, while others had abandoned her.No, she corrected herself.They left because I was mean and selfish.Agatha felt him squeeze her hand and looked down.
“May I kiss you, Agatha?” he ventured.
She could only nod, while her eyes misted.
Charles moved next to her, not once releasing her hand. The masculine scent of bergamot and sandalwood thrilled her senses. She had never noticed his fragrance. He tilted her chin up with his finger and gently brushed his lips over hers, before he leaned in and covered them more forcefully. He teased her mouth with his tongue, beckoning it to open for him. When she did, his tongue possessed her mouth, delighting her as their tongues parried and touched. A small moan escaped her, and her hands moved to his neck, twining her fingers in his hair. Charles pulled her closer, and she felt his breath on her neck. Their heartbeats seemed to beat a single staccato. Every fiber in her being tingled with anticipation. It was a quick magical moment she wished could have lasted forever.
The familiar sound and feel of gravel beneath the carriage forced her back to reality and reminded her they were home. Agatha attempted to pull away, hating the need, but his arm tightened around her.
Wishing with all her heart she could stay in his arms, she gently broke free, feeling obliged to reinsert decorum. Both sat there, with chests heaving. “We are almost there,” she said breathlessly, as she repaired her hair. She had just experienced her first tempestuous moment in the carriage and loved it. Had she had proper wits about her, she would have ordered the footman to circle the grounds an hour longer!
“Agatha,” he rasped, trying to catch his breath. “I have always carried you in my heart, and now I know it was right.” He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew a locket. Opening it, he showed her a small carving. “For me, it had been love at first sight.”
She stared at the carving, recognized it as her likeness. Emotion welled up and a tear escaped the corner of her eye.
“It was from a drawing I made from memory. An artisan in a marketplace crafted it for me.”
“Youdraw?”
He nodded.
