were in the same room. But how to stop? He’d been a mere lad of fifteen when Miss Merrie had invited a beaten and pregnant Charlotte to join their “family,” rescuing her as she’d rescued him years earlier. But he was no longer a lad, and there was nothing brotherlike about his feelings for Charlotte.
Drawing a deep breath, he turned slowly, trying to make the movement appear smooth. Unfortunately, in his attempt to appear less awkward, he nearly tripped on his own feet. He lurched forward, and Charlotte grasped his shoulders to steady him, just as he grabbed her upper arms to keep from pitching face first onto the floor.
His balance regained, everything in him stilled. The warmth of her hands seared imprints on his shoulders that sizzled down to his feet. Her arms felt slender beneath his palms. If he pulled her closer, the top of her head would nestle perfectly under his chin.
She looked up at him, her gray eyes filled with concern. Just concern. Not a flicker of any of the emotions churning through him. Not the slightest indication that she felt anything more for him than she ever had-respect, fondness, and friendship.
Damn it all to hell and back, he wished that was all he still felt for her. But somehow, his feelings of respect, fondness, and friendship had flared into something more. Something that rendered him clumsy and tongue-tied in her presence. Something that made him achingly aware of her every minute of the day, that made his heart beat faster at the sound of her voice, that tensed his every muscle when they stood in the same room. That made him spend sleepless, restless nights, aching in his lonely bed. For her.
The thought of her guessing, of realizing how he felt, clenched his stomach into a tight knot. She wouldn’t laugh-she was too kind for that-but the thought of seeing pity in her eyes, of feeling sorry for him for his hopeless feelings… he couldn’t bear it.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly released her arms. “Fine,” he said, more brusquely than he’d meant to. He took an awkward step back from her, careful to keep his weight balanced on his good leg, then jerked his jacket back into place.
Her gaze shifted to the pile of letters. “I guess we know what those are. More cancellations.”
Not yet trusting his voice, he merely nodded.
“Poor Meredith,” Charlotte said. “She’s worked so hard, she doesn’t deserve to be cast away like this.” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “But that’s how people are. They use you, then toss you aside like so much trash. You and I know that better than most, don’t we, Albert?”
“Yes. But not all folks are that way, Charlotte.” He savored the sound of her name on his tongue. “Miss Merrie ain’t like that-you and I know that better’n most.”
Her fierce expression relaxed a bit. “If only everyone were like her.”
“Impossible to wish that all folks were good,” he said gently.
She looked at the floor, twisting her hands together. “Yes. But sometimes I can’t help but wish for impossible things.”
Her quiet voice grabbed him by the heart, and unable to stop himself, he gently touched his fingers under her chin to raise her face. He held his breath, waiting for her to recoil, but to his surprise she stood her ground. Her skin felt like… he didn’t know. Like the softest thing he’d ever felt. Her gaze met his, and his heart thumped so hard he knew she had to hear it. “Wot do ye wish for, Charlotte?”
For a long moment she said nothing, and he simply stood, absorbing the feel of her warm skin beneath his fingertips, the sight of her eyes, so fathomless and full of shadows from past hurts and pains. The desire to make all her dreams come true, to destroy anyone or anything that would ever dare hurt her, throbbed through him. His gaze roamed her face, touching on the faint scar bisecting her left brow, and the slight bump on the bridge of her nose. An image of her, beaten and bruised, flashed through his mind.
And even if, impossibly, his ruined leg and physical limitations didn’t matter, her words, those fervent words he’d heard her speak to Miss Merrie when she first came to them, haunted him, making him know that there was no future for them.
It had taken a long time for her to come to trust him, but trust him she did-at least as far as she trusted anyone. He’d do nothing to risk that. Ever. If this was all he could have of her, so be it. But God forgive him, he wanted so much more.
“What do I wish for?” she repeated softly. “All my wishes are for Hope. I want her to have a good life. A safe life. Happiness. I don’t want her to ever have to do… the things I’ve done.”
Her voice went totally flat, as did her eyes, and Albert’s heart squeezed. “Hope is goin‘ to have a grand life, Charlotte. You, me, Miss Merrie, we’re all goin’ to see to it.”
The hint of a smile touched her lips, warming her eyes. “Thank you, Albert. You are a dear boy. And a wonderful friend.”
He tried hard not to let his idiotic disappointment show. Damn it, he wasn’t a boy. He was man. Soon to turn one and twenty. He wanted to remind her, but what was the point? Forcing a smile, he said, “Ye’re welcome. ‘Tis an honor to be yer friend.”
The clip clop of an approaching carriage caught his attention. Walking to the narrow window beside the front door, he moved the curtain aside.
“A fancy carriage,” he reported. “Stoppin‘ in front. Must be another note delivery from another of them fancy ladies wantin’ to-”
His words sliced off as a footman opened the carriage door and Miss Merrie emerged, followed by a tall gentleman wearing spectacles.
Albert’s eyes narrowed as he watched the gentleman escort Miss Merrie up the walkway. Because the walkway was narrow, they proceeded single file, with the gentleman falling in behind Miss Merrie. The man’s gaze wandered down Miss Merrie’s back, taking note of her backside in a way that set Albert’s teeth on edge. Without waiting for them to climb the steps, he flung open the door.
“Everythin‘ all right here, Miss Merrie?” he asked, scowling at the man.
“Everything is fine, thank you, Albert.” After climbing the steps, Miss Merrie performed a quick introduction.
To Albert’s surprise, the Greybourne bloke extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Goddard.”
Albert wasn’t certain he returned the sentiment, but, scowl firmly in place, he shook the gentleman’s hand.
“Thank you for seeing me home, Lord Greybourne. Are you certain I cannot offer you some refreshment before you leave?”
“No, thank you. However, I look forward to seeing you later this evening. Shall I send my carriage? Say at eight?”
“That will be fine.” She inclined her head in a regal fashion. “Good afternoon.”
Lord Greybourne bowed, then returned to his carriage. Albert stood on the porch and glared at him until the carriage was no longer in sight. Entering the foyer, Miss Merrie was handing Charlotte her shawl.
“So that bloke’s Lord Greybourne,” Albert said.
Meredith turned toward Albert’s stern voice, a tone she was not accustomed to hearing from him. His severe frown paused her fingers in the act of untying her bonnet. “That was Lord Greybourne, yes.”
“And ye’re seein‘ him this evenin’?”
“Yes. I’m joining him and his sister and one of his antiquarian colleagues for dinner at Lord Greybourne’s townhouse.”
Albert’s brows collapsed even farther. “I’d watch myself with that one if I were you, Miss Merrie. He’s got designs on ye.”
Heat scorched Meredith’s cheeks, and she prayed neither Albert nor Charlotte would notice. “Good heavens, Albert, what a thing to say! Of course he does not. I’m trying to find him a bride.”
“Ye already found him one. But based on the way he was oglin‘ ye, it appears he’s forgotten all about her.”
She barely kept herself from pressing her hand against her chest where her heart thudded. Was Albert correct?
