A look of astonishment crept over Charlotte’s face. “Y-You find my passions infuriating.”
He allowed a small smile. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t admire them. Indeed, it’s in comparing her to you that I’ve clarified my thinking.”
Charlotte rendered speechless was a rare sight to behold. He took a moment to enjoy it.
“However suspect my judgment is about women, and God knows I’ve been fooled in the past, I’ve come to the same conclusion as you about the widow,” he explained. “Whether she’s ultimately proven to be guilty or innocent, I suspect idealism isn’t part of her nature. Whatever attraction I might have felt—and by the by, she was never warming my bed—it is gone. You have my word on it.”
“Then the matter is settled,” said Charlotte, still appearing a little flustered.
“Not quite,” he responded as she turned to the tea table. “Attraction cuts both ways, Mrs. Sloane. Lord Sterling is up to his teeth in this mystery. For you to be blind to that because of the obvious bonds between the two of you could also be dangerous to us all.”
“Jeremy and I are friends, nothing more.”
“Dearfriends,” stressed Wrexford, repeating her earlier words. “Perhaps it isyouwho underestimate yourself. He looks at you—”
“He looks at me like someone he’s known since childhood!” interrupted Charlotte.
She appeared unnaturally upset by the suggestion of aromantic entanglement, though the earl wasn’t sure why. Was she oblivious to her own undeniable allure?
“The bonds you sense are those of two kindred souls who didn’t fit into the conventional strictures of their worlds,” she went on haltingly, clearly fumbling for words. “We’ve helped each other through . . . difficult times in the past. That builds . . . an elemental trust that is hard to explain.”
“And that doesn’t make you apt to give him the benefit of the doubt?”
The pulse point on her throat jumped as Charlotte looked away to consider the question. Her hair had loosened from her night braid, the dark, curling strands obscuring her profile.
She looked achingly beautiful in the softly shifting shadows. He felt a sudden spurt of raw jealousy for Sterling and the closeness he had with her.
“I’m no stranger to facing terrible truths, Wrexford. My bond with Jeremy, however strong, will not override my sense of right and wrong.”
“I can’t help but wonder what deep, dark secrets you share?” Though he said it lightly, he was deadly serious.
“They have nothing to do with this case.” Charlotte’s breathing turned ragged. “I assure you, there’s naught but friendship between us.”
Wrexford didn’t think she was lying, but something wasn’t quite adding up right. “I’m not sure Sterling feels the same,” he pressed.
“He does,” she insisted.
“How can you be so sure?”
The uncertain light couldn’t hide her reaction. All the color suddenly drained from her face, leaving her looking pale as death. “I—I accepted your word without challenge because I feel that we, too, have developed a certain degree of trust. I ask that you do the same for me.”
Perplexed, the earl held himself silent, a furrow formingbetween his brows. Charlotte was always so plainspoken. Why the devil was she talking in circles? It made no sense.
His frown deepened. Unless . . .
The realization dawned on him as he watched a fearful war of emotions tighten her features. She wasn’t afraid for herself.
“Ah,” he said softly. “I think I finally comprehend what you are saying. Sterling’s feelings for you are . . . platonic.”
“Yes,” she whispered, locking her gaze with his. “I have just made myself vulnerable to you. And him as well. But it’s important that there be no misunderstandings between us, sir. We must be able to trust each other without reservation.”
“Agreed. Trust is a matter of honor—it’s sacrosanct between friends.” He read the silent appeal in her eyes and added, “You have often said that no secret is ever safe, but rest assured that despite my many faults, I’ll never betray your confidence.”
“Thank you.” Relief resonated in the faint stirring of air between them. “I—I hope that you, who have a healthy skepticism for convention, will not judge Jeremy too harshly.”
“Mrs. Sloane, I am far too concerned with the precarious state of my own salvation to give a fig about the so-called sins of others.”
Paper crackled as he took a step back and shifted the roll of drawings from hand to hand, intent on giving her a moment of privacy. Charlotte, too, moved away, the soft clinking of the tea things helping to break the tension.
