“Yes, sir, I’ve taken the liberty of putting together a plan we can follow if it comes to that. I already have a few strong men moving sand from the beach as we speak.”
Ewan looked out the window again for a moment, then wrote, “I would assume this means our guests will not be able to make it through.”
He handed over the paper with as much nonchalance as he could. He truly adored every person who was coming to his home for the holiday visit, but perhaps this was for the best.
“I would assume so, yes, although Lady Portsmith’s carriagedidmake it over. Anders left Cole behind to escort them in. She should be here within the next twenty minutes or so.”
Ewan’s heart leapt even though it shouldn’t. Even though he wished it wouldn’t. But he maintained the same cool exterior he always did as he wrote, “Very good. Let me know the moment she arrives.”
Smith nodded and left him alone again. The moment the butler had gone, Ewan pressed both hands against the top of his desk, leaning over the surface as his breath came suddenly short and hard.
Charlotte. Charlotte.Charlotte. She was his obsession. His dream. And he recalled every single moment they’d ever spent together in one blink of an eye, just as he always did. Each was seared into his mind.
But no. He could not let himself go like this. To engage in flights of fantasy was foolish. He and Charlotte were friends, that was all. It had been years since she tried to confess a deeper feeling, and in the intervening time she had married and been widowed. Certainly her mind had changed.
As for his…well, he had rejected her for a reason. The reason hadn’t changed. He was simply not capable of giving her something more.
He straightened and came around to retake his seat and look over his ledgers again. But his mind was restless and it took far more focus than it should have to get himself back into the correct mindset to work.
But then, Charlotte had always done that. And he’d have to find a way to make sure she didn’t during this visit.
Chapter Two
Charlotte tossed her maid an apologetic look as the carriage jerked on the slippery, sleety road. Sylvie’s expression was terrified and Charlotte couldn’t blame her. It was the very worst of conditions. Cold permeated the carriage and the blankets tucked around them, and rain slicked down the windows, hardening to ice within moments so that one couldn’t rightly see outside.
Not that Charlotte needed to see the house to know it. When Ewan had inherited three years ago, his aunt had insisted on a ball to celebrate. Charlotte had come with Nathan and slipped away to memorize every line and cranny of Ewan’s home.
She shook her head and reached out to touch Sylvie’s hand. “We’re almost there now, dear.”
The girl’s teeth chattered as she said, “Y-yes, my lady.”
And as if Charlotte had timed it out, the carriage came to a stop at that very moment and it rocked as their driver and footman began to climb down. Charlotte heard voices, both those of her servants and of others rushing to help. She released her maid’s hand and straightened, her heart racing as those outside struggled with the door. Finally it burst open and a swirl of cold air greeted her. She turned her face away from it, and when she looked back there was Hargrove Castle, Ewan’s estate, looming behind one of Ewan’s footmen.
“Be careful, my lady, the stairs are rightly slick,” he said as he offered her not one but two arms to support herself.
She gingerly stepped down onto the drive and stretched her back, ignoring the icy rain that slashed across her face and dampened her hair. “Home,” she whispered.
“I beg your pardon, my lady?” the young man said over his shoulder as he helped Sylvie down the same way.
“Nothing. Please do get as much help as you can with unloading. There is no rush, just be careful. I want no one hurt so that I can have extra gowns, do you understand?”
He faced her with a bow and tossed a look at the miserable driver and footman who had come through the storm. “Of course, my lady. The duke’s men will take care of everything and get your folk inside to warm up. Would you like Reggie’s help up the stairs to the house?”
She glanced at the stone steps. “No, they look as though Smith has had them salted, smart man. I should be fine. And Sylvie, go in and warm up! There is truly no rush for my things.”
Her maid nodded and followed another servant around to the back entrance of the house as half a dozen men came rushing to help unload the trunks and portmanteaus.
The door opened as she reached the top and she raced inside the warm foyer. Smith was waiting for her, and he shut out the cold and left her to drip onto his lovely, clean floor.
“Oh, Smith, we have survived,” she said, laughing as she reached up to touch her wet hair. She likely looked like a drowned rat standing before him, but he smiled at her in welcome nonetheless.
“My lady, how wonderful to see you,” he said, “May I take your coat and gloves? I do not see a hat?”
“I took it off in the carriage and like a ninny forgot all about it when I got out,” she explained. “I must have been too excited to be here.”
“And we are thrilled to have you, my lady. The roads are treacherous, we were worried.”
She nodded. “They were indeed. I thought perhaps we should stop at the inn in the village for the night, but Watson insisted he could make it. I think he regretted it almost instantly, for we slid the entire last quarter mile. I know my servants have earned a good warm meal and a rest after that.”
