Charlotte could not believe what she was hearing. Never in all the years she’d known Eleanor had she observed that her mentor had even a tiny, vulnerable place in her body. She was used to a strong, ruthless woman who did what was necessary to build and protect her empire.
Eleanor continued. “When I was still not much more than an exploited child, he and his father tried to help me. They put me on a ship to America where friends of theirs would have helped me.”
Charlotte sat up and took off the wet cloth. “What happened?”
“I never arrived in America. The ship was seized by a privateer in waters off the coast of Massachusetts.”
“How did you survive such a horrible fate?”
“I became one of them.” She pointed to the scar slashed across the left side of her face. “I proved I could fight the best of them…and win.” She was silent for a long moment. “The reason I’m telling you this story is because I lost what I had with that boy long ago. I lost any chance for the happiness that comes from loving and being loved in return.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Eleanor patted her hand again. “I don’t want you to miss your chance for happiness because the outside world is trying to pull you and Mr. Colwyn apart.”
Charlotte sighed. “It’s too late. I’ve made a bull of the whole thing.”
“It’s never too late.” Eleanor’s voice turned urgent. “I’ve arranged to cancel the chess games for tonight. You need time to rest and heal from all that’s happened. Take some time to think and consider what I’ve shared with you.”
With that, her employer, who had never, ever shown any weakness in Charlotte’s memory, left her alone to mull over what she’d revealed.
* * *
Col ruefully recalledthe magistrate’s words that morning about how his life lately had allowed little time for sleep. He’d returned to Charlotte’s rear garden gate which he cleared with ease. When he reached the rear door of the house, he trod carefully, because even though Tuesday night was chess night at Goodrum’s, he had to be careful not to rouse one of her servants.
The cloudless night coinciding with a full moon was not at all helpful for undetected surveillance, but on the plus side, did give him plenty of light for installing a more secure lock on the rear door of Charlotte’s villa.
He for damned sure didn’t want to have to take on Sam that night. After all he’d been through over the last few days, he’d likely not survive an encounter with the mountain of a man who served as Charlotte’s butler.
After a full ten minutes of silence inside the house and no light streaming from any of the windows, he began selecting tools from the heavy bag he’d carried for over a mile.
Replacing the lock went off without a hiccup, and he was feeling pleased with himself when suddenly, he realized he’d need to make sure Charlotte had possession of the new key. He nearly slapped himself on the side of the head. How had that salient detail escaped his careful plans to ensure her safety? Thank St. James this was chess night. He crept inside, locked the door behind him, and began a quiet slink through the dark villa.
When he passed the servant part of the small house, the rooms were darkened, but the doors were open. The rooms were empty. And then a connection clicked into place in his mind. Sam and Lilith? He back-tracked to the garden entrance and looked toward the old mews where Lilith had a small apartment on the top floor. Light cascaded out a tiny window there. One mystery solved.
He smiled to himself and slipped back into the villa. Now, all he had to do was put the key somewhere in Charlotte’s room where she’d be sure to find it the next morning, after her night of chess at Goodrum’s.
13
Charlotte’s heart felt like a huge lead ball had lodged there, refusing to budge. When Captain El’s carriage deposited her at her door, the driver waited until she’d safely unlocked the front entrance and closed the door behind her. She knew Sam and Lilith would be tangled in each other’s arms by that hour and so didn’t slam the heavy brass knocker to wake them. And besides, they wouldn’t be expecting her to arrive home at this early hour on a chess night.
When she finally climbed the staircase to her tree-top aerie, the heaviness seemed to lift a bit with each step. Although she’d been going over in her mind everything Eleanor had told her, somehow she still felt as though her situation was different. It truly was too late to take back all the silly things she’d said to Col, and he probably hated her for still refusing to give back his pages.
No one could possibly understand how important it was to have something with which she could experience passion without having to face the reality of letting a man hurt her physically again. And to her everlasting mortification, she was too ashamed to tell Col the truth of why she couldn’t let go of the pages.
* * *
Col’s stomachgave a flip as if falling from a great height at the distinct sound of the front door snicking shut and footsteps slowly climbing the front staircase. Since the sound indicated a single set of footsteps, he ruled out Charlotte’s house companions.
He could have exited out her window and slid down the tree, but he was paralyzed with indecision. Should he do the right thing and leave the poor woman in peace. Or…should he do what he wanted to do? His baser side won out.
Charlotte’s bedchamber was bathed in shadows, but a large square of intense moonlight carved out a glowing rectangle on the floor in the center of the room.
Col sat in a chair tucked back in a darkened corner. Once she opened the door and tossed her shawl on the bed, he broke his silence. “Stay right where you are, there in the moonlight,” he said.
She didn’t start in fright, but calmly asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Remember that worthless lock on your back door?”
