“I typically don’t, if that makes you feel better.”
I smile despite myself and step out of Liam’s arms. “Before I came to Italy, I was with someone. I met him in college but then I didn’t see him for years. And then last month, I saw him again, and everything was so different, but it was the same, too. I still cared about him so much.”
I pause to wipe the bottom of my nose with the back of my hand like a post-tantrum four-year-old. “But he ruined it. He was engaged to someone else the whole time we were together. That’s not what love is supposed to be like—that’s probably what my dad would say if he was here.”
A fresh wave of tears hits and Liam hugs me, waiting it out.
“And even after everything I still miss him so badly. All I want to do is see him and talk to him.” I shake my head, ordering myself to tone it down. “Something is wrong with me. You should run before it spreads to you and I make you even more complicated than you already are.”
“I think it would be a near impossible feat,” he says. I look up at him and he wipes a stream of tears off my cheek with his thumb. “What a motley crew we are,” he says, jutting out his chin to gesture to the street below. “What do you think? Should we toss our passports to the wind and wallow out here forever? I’m not much of a weeper, but I’m convinced I could imitate the sounds successfully.”
I laugh and lean into his side. Liam’s smile is somewhat vacant as he looks ahead once again. Whatever it is that he’s seeing, the street or a memory, it makes him sigh before taking my hand and leading me back into the bedroom. We collapse onto my bed, both of us exhausted after our tumultuous night of drinking, breakthroughs and my emotional breakdown.
A few minutes later, I roll onto my side and find Liam resting with one arm behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling. Moonlight slits in through the open window and crosses his face, making his blue eyes even more striking against his fair skin. He’s attractive and strong but he’s so much more than that, too.
I exhale with regret and relief as I acknowledge that Liam is in every way the classic romance novel hero. But for some stupid, illogical, inexplicable reason, I just can’t write him in as mine.
He falls asleep shortly thereafter while I remain restless and wide-awake. Careful not to disturb him, I slither out of bed and pass through the darkened hallway until I reach the dining room. I sit down at the table and open my laptop, doing the one thing that brings me home no matter where I am.
“Good morning, Lady Destonbury, Mr. Thomas Flincher, at your service.”
Having hardly slept in over a week, Charlotte smiled as best she could at the gangly but well-dressed man who stood opposite her in the Greenspeak drawing room.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Flincher. If you’re looking for my father, I’m afraid he’s in London, preparing for my upcoming wedding.”
“Oh, no, my lady, I am here specifically to see you.”
“Really?” Charlotte had no idea what a solicitor would want with her, but she asked the gentleman to be seated nevertheless. Mr. Flincher pulled several papers out of his travel case and laid them neatly in his lap.
“I have here very specific legal documentation that I was empowered to explain to you on behalf of my employer. The first matter we should discuss is the order awarding you full guardianship of your younger brother, Mr. George Destonbury.”
Charlotte’s eyes went wide as saucers. “I beg your pardon?”
“To my knowledge, your brother was recently visiting a school along the Scottish border but is now on his way back to Greenspeak.”
Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth as relieved tears flooded her eyes.
“I do apologize,” Mr. Flincher quickly said. “I didn’t mean to distress you.”
“No.” Charlotte nearly laughed through her blinding happiness. She knew where George was. He was safe, he was well and he was coming home. “I’m sorry, I’m just... Do go on.”
Mr. Flincher handed Charlotte his handkerchief before looking back down at his stack of papers. “As to the next order of business, I have further documentation leaving sole control of this property, Greenspeak Park, to you until your brother reaches maturity, at which time the estate will pass directly to him. A new property manager has been selected to assist you and is prepared to begin his duties pending your approval.”
“I don’t understand,” Charlotte said, frantically trying to listen through her shocked state. “Were these documents drawn up by my father? Have you seen him?”
“I have seen him, my lady, and I assure you everything is perfectly legal. It is my understanding that your father is taking up residence in a smaller estate in Ireland.”
“Ireland?” Charlotte repeated, astonished.
“Lord Destonbury wished me to relay his regards to you and your brother. He also sends his apologies for the cancellation of your engagement and assures you that time will heal your undoubtedly bitter disappointment.”
Charlotte could hardly breathe. George was hers. She wasn’t marrying Lord Brinton. Her father was gone. It was all almost too much to bear. “Mr. Flincher, are you at liberty to tell me how all this came to pass? Have you been my father’s solicitor for very long?”
“What? Oh, no, I only met your father the day I finalized these documents and witnessed his signature. I’ve spent the entirety of my career under the exclusive employ of the Westmond family.”
And then everything suddenly made sense.
This man worked for Robert. Charlotte felt as though the world had fallen out from under her as she attempted to retain her composure. “I see. And did Mr. Westmond include a letter addressed to me? Was there
