Perhaps that was why the unexpected warmth of his touch felt so comforting.
They stood silently in the shifting shadows for another few heartbeats before he added, “We’ve saved a spot on the driver’s perch fer ye. Hawk and I will ride atop the boxes.”
She squeezed his hand. “Yes, I’m ready.”
Raven hurried off. Her own steps were slower, but closing the door for the last time didn’t feel as daunting as she had feared.
Respice finem. One should only look back at the end.
Keeping careful hold of the satchel carrying her paints and brushes, Charlotte climbed up to her place on the wagon. A flick of the whip set the dray horses in motion. Mud squelched as the wheels lumbered over the rutted lane. In a few short minutes, the house was well behind her.
She didn’t twist around for a last glance.
The mud turned to cobblestones as they progressed from the fringes of the stews to a more prosperous neighborhood. Behind her, she heard the boys chattering like magpies. Charlotte wished she knew what they truly felt about their new nest.
But in all fairness, her own emotions were not yet sorted out. It would take time. She must be patient, both with them and herself.
Patience.A self-mocking smile touched her lips. It was not one of her virtues. In that she was like the earl.
Thoughts of Wrexford drew her back to their argument over Ashton’s murder. His high-handed order to stay out of the fray had touched a raw nerve. Granted, his arguments had made sense. But that didn’t make them any easier to swallow. Her independence had been won at great cost. It was hard to surrender any of it.
Stubbornness, she conceded, was yet another of her many faults.
With her musings straying in such an uncomfortable direction, Charlotte was happy to hear the driver announce that the next turn would bring them to her new street.
She looked up to see a handsome carriage standing by the curb in front of her new abode, its forest green door bearing a discreet crest painted in dark tones of taupe.
Dear Jeremy.Despite all the upheavals in their lives since the days of filching apples together from the local squire’s orchard, he had never wavered in his loyalty. They had been the best of friends since childhood. Without his support during her darkest days . . .
“Halloo!” Jeremy—Baron Sterling—stepped into the street and gave a welcoming wave. As usual, he was dressed faultlessly, today’s attire being biscuit-colored breeches, polished Hessians, and a coat fashioned from a subtle shade of azure blue merino wool.
If anyone deserved to be a titled aristocrat, it was Jeremy, thought Charlotte with an inward smile. He had always had exquisite taste and an eye for quality. And now he had the blunt to afford to indulge in his passion for the arts and fashion.
He gave an additional hand signal, sending a liveried footman darting forward as the dray rolled to a halt.
“Good heavens,” murmured Charlotte, reluctantly acceptingthe servant’s offer of a hand down. “You needn’t fuss as if I’m royalty.”
Jeremy enveloped her in a quick hug. “You will always be a princess to me,” he replied gallantly, just loudly enough for her ears.
She let out a wry laugh. “I seem to have misplaced my enchanted tiara on the journey here. So I’ll have to settle on remaining my humble self for now.”
“One never knows what the future holds.”
“It’s only in fairie stories that a common wench is magically transformed into royalty.”
He stepped back, his brow crinkling in concern.
Pretending not to notice, she turned to the carter. “Mr. Holson, if you carry everything into the corridor, I shall then direct you as to where it all goes.”
Not that it would take much thought.
“My footman will help,” called Jeremy. Turning back to Charlotte, he said, “But first, come inside. You look tired.” His pause was barely perceptible, as was the tightening around the corner of his mouth. “Let us have some tea.”
His jovial tone sounded a little forced. Charlotte knew her friend well enough to sense he had left something unspoken.
“I’m sorry but my kettle is packed somewhere among the boxes,” she replied. “So I’m afraid we’ll have to forego refreshments.”
“As to that. . . .” Jeremy cleared his throat with a cough. “I took the liberty of bringing my housekeeper to fix some sustenance. The boys will be hungry, and I didn’t wish for them to starve.” A smile. “There are apple tarts from Gunther’s. And a custard-filled meringue.”
