“I most certainly wish to.” He dragged a hand through his hair, and she noticed how thick it was. “If you only knew the week I’ve had.” His voice reverted to its heaviness again, and a sympathetic worry sprouted in her heart. “A few accidents occurred at my mine—did I tell you Mr. Cartwright asked me to oversee the Alnwick Mine? I fear a lot of operations there aren’t safe. On my one afternoon free to visit, a small boy became trapped under some falling rock. It took hours to unpin him from the debris, see to his wound, and then assure myself he’d not lose his arm.” He gulped, and his face blanched. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have told you such a gruesome story.”
She shook her head. “I don’t mind. I like that you’d share your daily occurrences with me, even if they are uncomfortable. I am glad the boy is now safe and expected to recover. But after your explanation, it looks like I am not the only one whose mouth runs on its own track once it’s begun.”
At this, he laughed, and she loved the sound of it. It carried with it a familiarity that seemed like she’d known it not a decade ago but for a hundred years before.
“Well then, I am going to declare that you have influenced me, Miss Roylance.”
“I thought we established last time we were together that it’s Charlotte.”
He tipped his hat again in acknowledgment. “Just so.”
Appeased, she dropped her voice to a more serious tone. “I know what you do must be very hard. The maid who is with me today worked in a mine until a few weeks ago, so I’ve heard a bit about the grueling circumstances.” For an instant his eyes widened, and he seemed to mull over that information in his mind. She didn’t want the conversation to end and thought of another way to tease him. “I see your shirt has recovered well, even with your staunch refusal of my replacement.”
He glanced down at his cravat. “I didn’t wish to overburden you or your shirts by being too eager to accept your kindnesses, Charlotte.” Her heartbeat quickened at the sound of her name. “If you recall, I thought you were engaged during that visit.”
“It is a good thing we clarified that point.” She smiled.
He winked. “I agree.”
Oh, how she loved speaking with him.
“Luckily for you, the shirt is not offended.” His wink had emboldened her enough to test him. “However, I find myself on the cusp of vexation if you don’t make good on visiting my brother again.”
“Well, we can’t have Charlotte vexed.” Alex’s eyes sparkled as he brushed his hands together. “I remember all too well the riled-up childhood version, so I can only imagine your vexation has grown into something truly fearsome this last decade.” In mock surrender, he put his hands up near his face, shielding himself.
She laughed, and it struck her how different Alex was from Lord Ainscough. Ainscough had fawned over everything she did, but Alex wasn’t like that. He teased, he bantered, and he pushed back a little, and she much preferred it that way.
“I have grown up, I assure you,” she protested, inclining her head toward him with a determined gaze.
“Have you?” His left brow perched high above the other as he studied her. “Prove it.”
His boldness took her aback, and she froze. Howwasshe different? She was more well-read, her embroidery had improved, but neither of those accomplishments seemed worth mentioning. He himself had noticed how she’d changed in negative ways, grown more afraid and pressure-bound to her family’s expectations. That was not something to brag about.
“Forgive my question,” he said, and someone passed by them on the street, causing him to step so close that she registered his inviting minty smell mixed with charcoal. “I have not spent enough time in your presence to know everything, Charlotte, but you are an adept horsewoman, and I recently experienced the pleasure of hearing your beautiful singing voice.”
He studied her face, his gaze darting from her eyes to her nose and mouth. She knew the color on her cheeks nearly matched her hair, but she didn’t break her eyes from his.
He cleared his throat. “That brings me to my next point, which in truth, is more delicate.” His tone turned low and serious, and as he stepped a pace closer, she drew in her breath. “I wanted to visit not only Walter but yourself, no matter what your family’s expectations are. I rescued your brother. Doesn’t that help prove me? Will I ever be enough? There simplymustbe some way to spend time together. How can I make that happen without upending everything in your family?” His eyebrows lifted. “Even if I could take a walk in the garden with you?”
She swallowed, the constriction of her situation weighing her down, and she glanced away. “My mother has recently returned to Otterburn, and I fear she will not allow even that.”
Alex’s brows knit together, and pain entered his eyes.
Charlotte placed a hand on his forearm. “Christopher has her ear. He’s such a bear, Alex.” She withdrew her hand, knowing her words didn’t begin to quantify the ways he oppressed their family, but she didn’t want to dwell on that when Alex surely knew Christopher’s lack of virtues.
A storm of taut anger gathered in Alex’s eyes.
Keeping their conversation light had been the best way to keep him talking. She wrung her hands and smiled. “As for me, I would very much like to continue arguing about shirts and mines and any other vexing topics you wish.” She didn’t know how much longer Margaret would be inside the shop, but she didn’t wish to leave.
He placed his hand on the sleeve of her elbow. The sensation sent a thrill all the way up to her already warm cheeks. “It seems the odds are against us, but I will find some sort of creative way to meet with you again.”
“I...” She drew a short breath, amazed at his words. She did want to see him again but couldn’t imagine a way forward. “I would like that.” She tilted her head. “Provided it is in an honorable manner.”
“Of course.” He nodded, and his confident smile grew. What could he have in mind? “At least today I’ve learned not every one of your freckles have vanished. Before now I hadn’t been close enough to see that a few faint ones remain.” His hand on her elbow lifted, and he brushed his thumb over the skin of her cheek, drawing with it an immediate warmth. “I’m glad to know you aren’t so very changed.”
So he’d studied her face closely, then, just as she had been taking in his. She could mention his growth too: his much-improved jaw, now masculine and defined, his brow full of strength and wisdom and experience, and his handsome, unchanged eyes, the same as she remembered from boyhood. Yet she remained silent.
The air between them grew charged, positive, and expectant.
