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He knew that it all tied back to Charlotte, to the fact that he hadn’t yet heard from her, to the fact that he now questioned the future they might or might not build together.
Jeffrey rose from his study chair and rushed into the corridor. Throughout the previous weeks, he, too, had kept a low profile, as he’d sensed the simmering gossip throughout the town and county. People seemed to straddle the line between believing him and not—imagining that he’d had some sort of problem with Sampson and had set up this whole false scenario around him to rid himself.
Naturally, this was preposterous.
Further, gossip swirled around the topic of himself and Charlotte.
Many people had said that Charlotte had, actually, killed Brooks, and Jeffrey himself had stepped in to cultivate a plot that ensured she didn’t have to go to prison.
Still. Jeffrey felt that he and Charlotte had gone through far too much to allow such gossip to tear them apart.
Suddenly, Jeffrey tore towards the front door. He leapt through it, too preoccupied in his thoughts to close it behind him. In just a few short minutes, he saddled his horse and jumped on, stabbing his feet into the stirrups. He leaned forward, gripped the reins just so, and muttered to the horse. The horse shot forward, driving fast and wild across the moors, charting the path towards Charlotte’s estate.
He wouldn’t be without her. He couldn’t.
Jeffrey had actually never been to Charlotte’s estate. To his eye, it was just the same as every other wealthy family’s in the area—enormous white pillars, gorgeous gardens, staff members spinning in and out of the doorways. He dropped from the horse and passed the reins to a stable hand, wordless. Jeffrey had always known this about himself: he tended to come off as formidable, so much so that staff members asked no questions when he arrived places. He was allowed in anywhere.
When Jeffrey appeared at the doorway, the butler asked him what his purpose was.
“I’m here to speak with Lord Stanton,” he said. “I do hope he’s available.”
At this, the butler said, “The Stantons haven’t spent much time outside the mansion doors.”
“I can understand that. They’ve been under a great deal of stress,” Jeffrey affirmed.
It seemed that the words had been a test, that Jeffrey had passed it. The butler bowed slightly and said, “Who shall I say is calling?”
“Jeffrey Lilley,” Jeffrey said.
“Ah!” The butler recognized his name immediately. He leaned forward a bit as he stretched his arm out for Jeffrey to enter. “Thank you again for all you’ve done for dear Charlotte. I don’t know what I would have done, watching that poor girl wilt away in prison.”
Jeffrey waited in the foyer until the butler returned to inform him that Lord Stanton would see him. Jeffrey was surprised to find that he wasn’t nervous. He’d always assumed, in the moments leading up to asking a woman’s hand in marriage from her father, he would be stricken with fear.
Lord Stanton was nearly as tall as Jeffrey, with broad shoulders and salt and pepper hair. He stuck out a hand for Jeffrey to shake. As they greeted one another, they held one another’s gaze for a long moment. Finally, once the handshake broke, Lord Stanton said, “I can’t tell you what it means to me to meet you.”
“And I, you,” Jeffrey said. He was surprised to find that he wasn’t lying.
“In any case. I imagine you’re here for a sort of reward …”
“What? No. Nothing like that.” Jeffrey waved his hands in the air between them, genuinely shocked.
Lord Stanton arched his brow. “I suppose I must have misunderstood.”
“The gossip that swirls around this town is rife with misunderstanding,” Jeffrey affirmed. “I can assure you that I’m here for one reason and one reason alone. I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage. I need your blessing.”
Lord Stanton tilted his head ominously. He seemed to brew with this information, stirring it over and over again. Jeffrey’s heart jerked just once with panic.
“I don’t suppose she suspects this is coming?” he asked.
“I cannot be certain,” Jeffrey affirmed.
“You haven’t seen her since everything occurred, have you?” Lord Stanton asked.
“Not once.”
“And here, you wish to ask her the biggest question of all.”
“Only if you’ll allow it, My Lord.”
