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Chapter 10
Charlotte felt overwhelmed with the new influx of facts.
Brooks hadn’t been seeing anyone, yet he’d planned to meet a woman who cleared loved him—and all of this had been meant to occur on the date of his death.
Beyond this, Charlotte had to reckon with the fact that when she’d learned of his murder, Brooks had still been alive, reading that very letter, assuredly tucking it away and planning the events of his last evening on earth.
She buzzed with adrenaline, considering these elements, so much that she hardly noticed her mother before her, still dressed in all black, her eyes in slits.
“Darling, would you like to go with me to that wretched fabric store once more?” she asked, her hands on her hips.
Charlotte blinked up at her. “I thought you said you wanted to find another fabric store.”
“I do,” her mother said. “But I don’t wish to leave the county this afternoon. Besides, I have hopes that my recent disgust with the fabric seller has led him to comprehend the error of his ways.”
“That was only a week or so ago,” Charlotte affirmed. “I don’t suppose he’s had much time to consider it.”
“Then I will give him another round of advice,” her mother said. “Would you like to go with me? Or would you like to remain in this chair, staring out the window?”
Charlotte found herself in the carriage only ten minutes later, while her mother spoke at length about her sister’s recovery.
“I suppose it will be a long road,” her mother continued. “I’m prepared to assist her, of course. I know no other way.”
“I’m sure she appreciates it,” Charlotte said, hardly hearing her own voice over the clops of the horses’ feet.
The fabric store owner lost all the colour in his face upon first sight of Charlotte’s mother. It seemed as though he’d convinced himself that she would never darken his door again, as he’d disappointed her so greatly.
“Good afternoon,” her mother said. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And so soon,” the man returned.
“Are you suggesting that you don’t want my business?” she asked.
“No. I welcome all patronage,” he said. “What can I assist you with today, Lady Stanton?”
Charlotte tucked her smile inward, careful not to allow either of them to see it. As they continued to discuss her mother’s views of the current shop’s problems, ways to fix the current stock, Charlotte’s eyes turned towards the window.
She felt it like a punch to the stomach.
Standing outside the window was Jeffrey, that strange and handsome man who’d haunted her dreams since that first appearance.
“Mother, I’ve just seen someone I know outside,” she said, slicing through her mother’s conversation.
At this, her mother cast her a look of annoyance and said, “Darling, I’m in the middle of something.”
Charlotte took this as enough reason to rush towards the door, whip it open, and blink out at the three-dimensional formation of Jeffrey. He gazed at her, wordless, seemingly just as shocked to see her as she was to see him.
Slowly, she walked towards him. Tension filled the air between them. Charlotte felt for a moment as though she’d imagined him there—that her heart ached for some sight of him so greatly that she’d generated him.
“Good afternoon,” he said. His voice was gritty and dark and beautiful, the sort of thing Charlotte wanted to latch to, to listen to for the rest of her days.
This was a thought she wanted to tear out of her head and abandon immediately.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “Do you often spend time staring at the fabric shop?”
“I just happened to walk past, glance up, and spot you there,” Jeffrey said. “It has nothing at all to do with the previous time I saw you here.”
“I suppose it behoves you that I believe what you say,” Charlotte said.
