Walter’s nose scrunched up in dismissal, not put off by the warning. “It’s just that I now realized how ravatious I feel.” He licked off his fingers. “Or rivenous?”
Alex smiled. “Ravenous, I believe.”
“Yes, ravenous as a wolf.” Walter nodded and slowed his chewing to a thoughtful pace.
George’s note had seemed dire, but Alex found the boy’s behavior to be perfectly suited to his age; he was angry at his family and wanted their attention. Once he’d discovered the boy’s concerns, Alex liked how easy it was to read the perfectly pleasant and honest little fellow. The lad’s behavior reminded him a little of eleven-year-old Charlotte from so long ago. He sighed. “Is that all, then?”
The boy’s sugar-encrusted mouth pursed once more. “You’ll come back, won’t you? I like how you talk just like things are. Not so proper.”
Come back? By Walter’s easy tone, Alex figured he’d accomplished his duty. But a return visit would suit him. He’d love to spend time with this lad, and he could ask George for permission since it seemed Christopher was still gone. Walter’s insistent gaze was locked on Alex’s face, and with a serious look about him, he folded his arms.
Alex smiled. “I will try to manage it, if you’d like.”
Walter nodded in approval, his mouth still overly full of pastry, and turned back to the blocks.
Alex exited the room and entered the corridor, passing the window from which no beautiful song emanated now. The front vestibule appeared empty. He glanced toward the stairs he knew led to the family rooms and down the other passageway to the dining hall. A robust fire roared in the front room just a few yards from the front door. It felt almost as if, when he was in the castle, everyone purposely avoided him. With no sign of the butler or George, he glanced toward the tall iron-trimmed front door but decided to wait near the fire for someone to appear. He had promised to relay his findings to George, after all.
He was staring at the flames when he heard the squeak of a servants’ door adjacent from the dining room corridor opening, sending a flood of light along the bottom of the marble floor. He turned toward the sound and froze in place.
The light silhouetted Charlotte in such a way that her face was in a shadow. The sunshine, however, did its best to accentuate her hair, which fell down around her shoulders, not pinned yet for the day, and the effect wasn’t lost on him. Charlotte had become quite a beauty, that he’d known, but seeing her hair free and long, so natural and untamed, stole his breath. She started down the passageway, singing something—the last line of the song he’d heard before.
That gorgeous voice had been hers? He wished he could listen to her song again and again, but he reminded himself why she’d come back home, why she was off-limits forever. His heart had started to hope, but he must stop it.
She sang a few more notes and continued walking before she lifted her head and noticed him. “Mr. Jenkins?” Two hasty hands rubbed her eyes as she peered at him. Then, when she’d apparently confirmed her own question, she made quick work of smoothing her skirts and attending to her hair. She should have given up on the latter endeavor, because it was so wild that she wouldn’t be able to set it to rights anytime soon. She couldn’t know he actually preferred it in that breathtaking state. “My goodness,” she said, taking a step toward the stairs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more embarrassed.” Her hand passed another swipe over her errant locks.
“I apologize for the intrusion, Miss Roylance.” He couldn’t stop his smile and felt sure his own neck was tinged with color, but he took a step backward toward the door. “Might I say that your singing voice is lovely.”
She swallowed, and a hand pressed against her waist as a bit of pink flushed her cheeks. “If my mother saw me in the presence of a gentleman like this...” Her timidity and discomfiture were so different from the girl he had known that he again wondered at the change. Not wanting to encourage her burgeoning panic but not about to point it out like last time, he continued toward the front door. “I am sorry to have caught you unawares. I came to speak with Walter. George wrote that Walter asked for me.”
“George... did what?” Realization dawned in her eyes, as clear as stream water, which perfectly matched her simple dress this morning. “That’swhat Walter told George.”
“It’s clear I’ve upset you, Miss Roylance. I’ll be on my way.”
“Don’t go.” She took a few quick steps toward him and then stopped.
He stilled, hanging on to her words.
“Did—didWalter speak, then?”
He wasn’t sure it was proper to stay here alone in the vestibule with her. There was ample distance between them, but Alex knew by George’s note that his visit was more necessary than desired. “Miss Roylance, your family would not approve of us speaking here. I think it best—”
“Alex.” She sighed, then took a deep breath, seeming to take courage from her interruption. “First of all, can we please dispense with all the ‘Miss Roylance-ing’? I detest it.” Her mouth boasted a small moue. There it was. A bit of the old zest. “Between my bouts of worry over my brother, I’ve berated myself about my behavior at the zoo and even again after the lake. Heaven knows what you think of me and my various moods. Please believe me that I am trying to become more authentic.”
She had been thinking of him this past week? Alex’s heart did a little jig. He’d tried very hard for several daysnotto think of her, but knowing her thoughts were similarly employed only made things more—what was the word? Complicated.
He’d assumed she would have been preoccupied by thoughts of her upcoming marriage. Surely she just needed to clear her conscience about her poor manners.
“Alex.” She took a step nearer, studying his face, worry exposing the whites of her eyes. “Will you forgive me?”
The sun shone through the tall windows behind her, and the extra light complemented her smooth skin. Alex became lost staring at her face, focusing on her words, her beautiful mouth. No, not her mouth. Just her words. “Oh, I beg pardon,” he said, now feeling as flustered as she’d been earlier. “Of course I forgive you.”
“Then, we shall be friends?” A vulnerable smile pulled up the corners of her mouth, and he tried to memorize it, then chastised himself for the thought. This was what he wanted, but hadn’t she started it?
“If you wish, Charlotte,” he said, and saying her name sent a frisson of awareness through him. He detested that he was finished with what he’d come to do. She was so kind, so inviting. But it was best to leave. “I should let you go. I am sure you have much to plan—”
“To plan?” Charlotte’s head cocked to the side.
He swallowed, willing himself to look away. “Yes, all manner of feminine decisions, I am sure. Lace, gowns, guests, invitations, food—”
