A thought that made tears sting her eyes.
Finally, Meg faced her. “I had a similar plan when it came to Simon, you know.”
“What?” Charlotte said in shock.
Meg nodded. “Yes. After theincidentwhen we were caught together, he was so guilty over our betrayal of Graham. He couldn’t resist me when we touched, but he pushed me away when it came to anything emotional.”
“Oh Meg, I had no idea,” Charlotte said. “I wish I had been there.”
“As do I, but your mourning precluded it, so of course I understood.” Meg sat on the settee next to Charlotte and gripped both her hands. “It was very hard to be so close to him in one way but to be pushed away in another. Especially when I only wanted to love him and to take the future I knew we could have together.”
Charlotte nodded, for she certainly understood that. “But you came through it.”
Meg sighed. “We did, at last, with a great deal of work and after nearly losing everything. But we did. And we have found happiness.”
“Anyone with eyes can see that,” Charlotte said. “But you’re still concerned about my having almost the same plan.”
Meg worried her lip. “I admit, what you’re proposingcouldwork. But if Ewan is resistant, it could also…”
“Materially damage our friendship, as well as his relationship with Baldwin and even with Matthew. Those three are so close.” She shook her head. Here Meg had almost given her permission and it caused a flush of terror through her rather than a thrill of excitement. There was so very much on the line now. “What am I saying?” she muttered, almost more to herself than to Meg. “I’ll be in a household full of family and friends. What chance would I have to seduce him?”
Meg laughed. “You’d be surprised at the chances you can create at a house party.”
“I’m being silly,” Charlotte whispered. “He—he’ll never allow it, and as you said it could do more harm than good then.”
“I didn’t actually say that, you did,” Meg corrected.
“You!” Charlotte said, lightly swatting her friend’s arm.
Meg grabbed for her hands and held tight, suddenly serious. “I realize it’s a risk, my dear. More than anyone else, perhaps. But you deserve to be happy, and so does Ewan. If you can find that happiness together, if there is even the slimmest chance of it, I do encourage you to try. Just do it with your eyes open so you’re not hurt.”
Charlotte nodded slowly. “It’s…it’s food for thought.”
Meg smiled and leaned forward to buss her cheek. “And now I would like food for food. Simon should be back from his meeting with the solicitors in the village. Let’s find him, shall we, and see if we can convince him to have an early tea.”
Meg got to her feet and Charlotte followed slowly. But even as they linked arms and left the room together, with Meg changing the subject to something less fraught with danger, Charlotte couldn’t help but think of what they’d discussed.
And wonder if it could truly be possible to make Ewan see that bright future she’d always pictured for them. And if he did, to make him take it.
The Duke of Donburrow stood at the window of his study, staring down and down at the scene below. Ewan had grown up hating this estate, for it held nothing but bad memories of the father who had all but imprisoned him here until he was ten. But in the last three years since he finally inherited, he had to admit the place had grown on him.
The castle was large and had been well kept over the years. He’d redecorated it since the inheritance, removing almost all vestiges of the previous duke. And no one could argue that the view wasn’t spectacular. He could see the sea from almost every window on the east facing side, and the waves always calmed him.
Except on days like today. Today there was no sea because of the storm that had swept in. Snow and sleety rain pelted the windows and swirled up to block his ocean view. It was utterly miserable outside, and getting to the house was going to be nearly impossible at this point.
It was the disadvantage in having an isolated estate—or perhaps an advantage. It kept people out. But then, castle or not, Ewan had always been very good at doing that himself. With few notable exceptions, he’d kept almost everyone out of his life.
“Your Grace?”
He turned to face his butler, Smith, with a short nod. He’d known the man most of his life, for he’d served Ewan’s father. But unlike most of the other servants who had done so—and been dismissed upon his inheritance—Smith had never treated Ewan with anything but utmost respect. They never had an issue with Ewan’s inability to speak. Smith never acknowledged it at all, aside from the occasional gentle handing over of a notebook to write in or a quick look that said he understood what Ewan needed before it required writing down.
“Anders just returned from the inspection of Waterbury Bridge.”
Ewan stepped forward. He’d been waiting for this report since the rain began that morning.
“There is some fear it may, indeed, wash out as it did last year,” Smith said.
Ewan let out a sigh before he swept up the notebook on the corner of his desk and wrote, “I see. We’ll close the roads if we must. And if it gets as bad as last year, we’ll need to sandbag and there will be evacuations of the tenants to see to.”
