Charley barely made out the glass of the orangery ahead as they emerged from the tall shrubs he’d been dragging her through. “Oh!” Her head tilted back as she admired the glass reflecting the moonlight. She’d thought they were going away from the manor when he’d only been taking her around it.
He opened the door and drew her inside.
“I think this is my favorite place on the whole of your estate.” She spoke in awe, momentarily forgetting their discussion when the humid air caressed her face. The warm interior reminded her of walking along the beach near her father’s home in early August.
Without asking, he assisted her out of her coat and gestured toward an intimately arranged seating area with two chairs made out of bamboo. A chaise lounge was placed opposite the chairs.
She lowered into one of them while he paced back and forth a few times. Having apparently worked out some sort of problem, he finally sat at the foot of the chaise beside her. Resting his arms along his knees, he studied the ground between his feet.
“Tell me what to do so you won’t feel like you’re a piece of property being bartered. I never intended for you to feel that way, nor do I want you to think I am trying to deceive you.”
She couldn’t help thinking he looked vulnerable in that moment, with his head bowed and his shoulders slumped.
He’s dead because of me.Julian’s words from earlier chose that moment to replay in her mind. It had not been fair of her to accuse him of manipulating her. He’d treated her with only respect. She’d made him angry, possibly hurt him too. To attack the honor ofthis manin particular, was likely the worst insult she could make.
“I’m not used to…” Charley wished that she could see his eyes. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s everyone else.” Including her father.
Her own words stunned her. Because she’d not allowed herself to acknowledge this before. He had always been her hero.
“My father loves me,” she said. “I know that deep down he loves me. And he values my ideas.” Another realization had her feeling as though she had been thrown into a black void. “As long as they line up with his.”
Julian was watching her now, the midnight blue of his eyes warm and understanding. He didn’t contradict her or defend her father.
“He is opening a new distillery. In Nashville—near Knoxville.”
Julian nodded, encouraging her to continue.
Of course, he was already aware of this information. “He intends to use slaves and this… distresses me. It isn’t right. I’ve told him how I feel.”
Everything that had happened over the past few months was suddenly becoming crystal clear to her. “I love my country. I love my father. I even like Mr. Jackson, and I feel horrible about his wife dying as she did. What happened to her wasn’t fair, and I know that the president loved her most ardently. But although I pity him, I hate so much of what he stands for.” She blinked away tears. Tears for the woman who died prematurely but also tears that she could do nothing to change her father’s mind. Because above all things, her father was an ardent champion of Andrew Jackson and particularly the president’s plans to expand slavery westward.
“My father is a capitalist. He is a businessman, and he is always looking for opportunities to increase profits.”
“Slavery is inhumane.” Julian turned his legs, facing her. “It is not legal in England, but that hasn’t prevented Englishmen from exploiting people in other lands. Many believe that if they don’t actually see it, it doesn’t exist. But we are guilty as well.”
Her eyes opened wide. Somehow, knowing he felt the same sent relief washing through her. Most of the people she knew at home believed the same as her father. Although slavery wasn’t openly practiced in Philadelphia, it was an essential cog that drove the economic system of people all around her. It was the most essential cog in Tennessee.
“You are a lord. Is there nothing you could do?” Even to her own ears, her question sounded naïve.
He did not scoff, however. “My father voted to make trading slaves a felony. But the 1811 Act didn’t address freeing those persons already trapped.” Jules rubbed the back of his neck. “There is a movement to abolish the practice throughout the empire but… we aren’t there.”
She was a little in awe.
“My father hates when I bring this up. He insists I simply don’t understand business.”
“You think that is why your father brought you here?” He reached a hand across the few inches of space that separated them to take her hand.
“So that he doesn’t have to fight me on this? Am I imagining it?” Stinging burned the back of her eyes. She hated this wedge that had worked its way into her relationship with her father.
Julian squeezed her hand. “It’s also possible that he’s just looking out for your well-being. And that he’s fulfilling the promise he made to your mother.”
She nodded. Although, she had difficulty completely dismissing her suspicion after he set up a possible betrothal and refused to allow her to accompany him to the distilleries. He was pushing her away. Was that what this trip had really been about? And yet… “I love him.”
“Fathers are not perfect, but we love them, nonetheless. It’s upsetting when, as we grow older, we discover their imperfections.”
“You loved your father.” She stated the obvious. “Tell me one of his imperfections.”
“I can’t.” He stiffened. When he went to draw away his hand, she refused to release him.
