The glass door to the back parlor was still open as he left it. His instinct had been to slam it when he stormed out of the room earlier, but his better self had prevailed. Charlie sat at the tea table, its starched linen cloth wafting in the light breeze. A dried-up sandwich sat untouched on her gilt-edged plate.
“I’m sorry,” he offered before she could say anything. “I shouldn’t have run away and left you with Jamie. I was just so-so-flummoxed.”
“Bay, I want to go home. To Little Hyssop. It’s almost time anyway.”
He couldn’t have heard her correctly. He reached for a hand that was fisted tightly in her lap, but she clutched the fold of her dress. “Why?”
“Jamie says he’s taking Anne back to the Bucklands until we get all this sorted. I think you should give him the money and send them away. Far away. Until you do, I just can’t stay here.”
“I’ll protect you, I swear. Frazier and I were in the process of hiring some men from the village to patrol the grounds round-the-clock.”
“Too late.” Her blue eyes were bright with tears. He cursed himself for leaving her by herself to worry and placing her in danger. Anne could be walking up the drive right now, armed with one of Jamie’s bedpans to return the favor.
He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t even want her as far away as the next room. But it was clear from her stricken expression she was scared half to death. “You’re right. I’ll send Frazier with you. And Kitty, I suppose.”
“Frazier! Is he fit enough?”
“Angus Frazier’s a tough old bird. Believe me, he’s marched miles with worse. It’s just a superficial wound. I think he wears the sling to garner sympathy from his bride-to-be.”
Her smile was wobbly. “You must think I’m an awful coward.”
“No, my love, you are a sensible, respectable woman, as you’ve reminded me time and time again. And anyone with the grit to use a chamber pot as a weapon is a force to be reckoned with. You are the bravest woman I know.”
“She could have shot you. When the gun went off-” She swallowed back a sob.
He pulled her up against him quickly, the china on the tea table clattering. Yes, she had fainted last night, but the enormity of everything was finally hitting her in all its grim glory. He’d seen some of his troops go through stages such as this-functioning because they had to, then suddenly going to pieces. Bay couldn’t bear to see her hurt or uncertain. He would deal with Jamie and Anne, then claim Charlie at last.
“Hush, hush,” he whispered into her temple as she wept. “It will be all right. Everything will be all right. I’ll see to it, and then I’ll come for you. You can leave tonight, as soon as we can get you packed up. Frazier will think he’s on holiday, two pretty girls to ride with. Let me go talk to my coachman. He’s an old army man, too-used to moving on short notice.” He murmured comforting nonsense as she slowly stilled in his arms. Whatever it took to calm her fears, he was prepared to do. He acknowledged his own fears were elevated as well. Until he saw Anne for himself, he would doubt any solution Jamie proposed.
He wouldn’t be separated from Charlie forever, just long enough for him to find a permanent solution to the problem of Anne Whitley. Charlie would never have reason to worry about anything ever again, save what to order for dinner or what color to repaint the parlor. An idea was even now beginning to form, taking amorphous hold on his imagination, but he wouldn’t speak of it until he could explore it further. In the meantime, the woman in his embrace needed kissing in the very worst way, something he was eminently qualified to do.
From the corner of the coach, Charlotte had observed the blushes and the giggles, the secret glances, the “accidental” touches of her companions as the carriage rolled through the countryside bounce after bounce. She definitely felt like a fifth wheel as Angus Frazier and his Kitty were thick in the throes of their love affair. She couldn’t begrudge them their euphoria; if things had been different, she would be similarly enraptured by Bay. It was in fact amusing to see the gruff Frazier as besotted as a schoolboy with the tiny maid. Charlotte was quite looking forward to their wedding as well as her own.
But right now she had a more pressing problem than wedding arrangements. She simply didn’t know where she was going to put Mr. Frazier and Kitty when they got to her little cottage. It was not as though she had servants’ quarters, or even the need for servants. The upstairs rooms were crammed to the ceiling with Deborah’s spoils from her years as a courtesan. Kitty would just have to share Charlotte’s bed, and Mr. Frazier was doomed to sleep on the lumpy sofa, poor man. Bay would not hear of them returning with the coachman and the carriage once she was safely back in Little Hyssop. She was to have the security of Angus Frazier’s protection until Bay decided otherwise.
Throughout the trip, Mr. Frazier had taken his guard duties seriously, but the farther away from Bayard Court they travelled, the more relaxed Charlotte became. It was unlikely that Anne would somehow discover their whereabouts. If it wasn’t for the baby, Charlotte would feel craven for leaving Bay behind. She missed him fiercely, especially when confronted with the two cooing lovebirds opposite.
She had almost-
The carriage rumbled over the last bridge and into the village proper. Charlotte felt a sense of peace as she viewed the familiar stone buildings, their flower boxes overflowing, their front steps swept spotless. Bay’s driver knew just where to go from his last visit, when he brought his horticulturally challenged master on his “garden tour.” But the carriage stopped short on the lane.
“Bother. This is Mr. Trumbull’s house. Mr. Frazier, could you hop out and tell John to go down to the end?”
Frazier did as requested, but was back in seconds. “There’s a cart blocking the road, Miss Fallon. Piled high with furniture and boxes it is. Have ye been evicted?”
“Certainly not! I own my cottage free and clear.” It couldn’t be thieves, could it, taking advantage of her absence to empty out her home? “Kitty, you stay here.” Charlotte stepped down from the coach, grateful that Angus Frazier would be at her side to confront whoever was stealing her possessions. Not that she had anything of value, except for her broken jar of money and Deb’s things.
Deb! Her sister came flying out the open door, covered in one of Charlotte’s own aprons, and, remarkably, one of Charlotte’s caps affixed to her glossy dark hair.
“There you are! Do you know I’ve been worried sick? I wrote letter after letter. When I didn’t hear from you, I persuaded Arthur to let me come down to see what was wrong. And then that old man next door told me you were visiting me, which you most assuredly were not, because why would I be looking for you if you were with me in Kent? Careful with that!” she interrupted herself, speaking to a pair of men balancing a mirror between them. “That really should be wrapped in a blanket. I say, Charlie, you wouldn’t have a spare one I could borrow? I should hate to have seven years of bad luck, just when my luck has turned. Charlie, I’m the happiest woman in the world. You’ll never guess! The most amazing thing! I’m going to have a baby! And Arthur’s home is delightful, but it will be ever so much better with my lovely things in it. His uncle didn’t have much taste, I’m afraid.” Just then Arthur came out the door clutching the hideous stuffed parrot. “No, not that, darling. I’ve changed my mind. Charlie, I want you to keep this. As a token of my affection. Now where have you been, you sly puss? And with whom?” She cast a somewhat disparaging eye on Angus Frazier, who stared right back at her, his mouth hanging open.
Charlotte was quite sure she gave off a similar sense of shock. While Mr. Frazier was probably surprised at her resemblance to her sister, Charlotte was stunned to see Deborah in domestic garb, chattering like a magpie, and pleased to be pregnant. Not only had luck turned, but the world had turned and was tilting on its axis. Charlotte thought any minute now she’d drop off and be tossed off into the firmament.
Deb pulled her close in a hug, temporarily tethering her to earth, and whispered in her ear. “Well, say something! Stop gawping like a looby. Don’t ever tell me that this man is your protector. I left you set for life with Bay.”
“It’s complicated.” Charlotte escaped the embrace. She wasn’t sure Deb was ready to hear all about the last several months, nor was she ready to explain the recent past with any lucidity. Art theft, imprisonment, kidnapping, armed sexual assault, and insanity were not typical topics of conversation. “Congratulations on your marriage, Arthur, and your good news.”
Arthur turned quite pink. “Thank you, Charlotte. Deborah, sweetheart, come inside and sit down. I don’t want you to tire yourself out.”
