They watched in silence for several long moments before he shifted slightly. “By the by, you’re crying.”
“A-am I?” She looked down at the ground, not wishing to dampen the mood of exuberant good cheer. “A bit of straw must have blown into my eye.”
Wrexford reached out and took hold of her chin. “Here, let me help,” he murmured, tilting her head up to face him. “Blink a few times and then look up.”
His finger brushed lightly at the corner of each eye. “Better?”
“Much,” answered Charlotte, quickly turning back to the children cavorting with the puppies.
She felt his gaze remain on her face.
Shouts. Barks. Laughter.Pure and joyous as the dancing sunlight.
“I’m sorry.” She hitched in a breath, and suddenly emotions refused to stay pent up any longer. “It’s just that I’m thinking of . . . of a great many things.”
“Such as?”
How like Wrexford to cut to the heart of a problem. Somehow, the simple question gave her the courage to confess her fears.
“Such as . . . how carefree our urchins look, and . . . and how in a few days they will go back to stews, where . . .”
To her consternation, her voice broke.
The wind ruffled through Wrexford’s hair. “Good Lord, you don’t think I intend to send them back, do you?” He allowed a small smile. “Cook is in need of a kitchen helper, and Alice would be a good match. Skinny likes horses and will fit in with the stable boys, while Pudge and One-Eye Harry can learn gardening. They will all, of course, attend school and have a choice about their future . . .”
He stopped abruptly. “You’re still crying.”
“I . . .”How to explain?
“The future,” Charlotte stammered. “The other night, I watched for the second time as you came within a hairsbreadth of death. Once again, we were extraordinarily lucky. But Luck is fickle!” She blinked, feeling pearls of salt fall from her lashes. “What about the next time?”
“The future holds infinite uncertainties.” His mouth curled up at the corners. “That is why one of the best-known Latin aphorisms isCarpe diem.”
Seize the day.
“Do you think I’m not terrified for you, and how often your courage and compassion lead you into awful dangers?” continued Wrexford. “You’re a beacon—that bright glimmer in the night which helps me find my way when I’m feeling lost.” He drew in a measured breath. “I’m not sure how I would bear the darkness without your light.”
Their eyes met.
“A weakness, no doubt. However, as you well know, my weaknesses far outweigh my strengths,” he added.
“As do mine,” she said softly. “But perhaps we’ve come to know each other well enough not to be fearful of showing our vulnerabilities to each other. Flaws are what makes us human.”
Charlotte hesitated, trying to find just the right words to express the feeling bubbling up inside her.
Oh, be damned with finding just the right words.
Carpe diem.
Seize the day.
Throwing caution to the wind, she flung her arms around him and pulled him close. “You are . . . you are . . . impossibly perfect just the way you are. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
“You can’t?” Wrexford shifted, his boots kicking up a tiny clot of mud. “Then perhaps . . .” He hesitated, his green eyes rippling for just a moment with a look of naked vulnerability, which made her heart give a fluttery lurch.
“Then perhaps you’ll consider marrying me.”
Was the breeze playing tricks with his words?
