“You will not believe my day,” he said. He brushed aside a flopping lock of hair and caught her gaze in his. His green eyes, though pinched with exhaustion, were full of love and humor and acceptance. His lips, soft and full, were smiling at the sight of her. His hands, his long and slender fingers, settled on her thigh, drawing her close. They were exactly as they should be—together, with barely an inch between them, let alone an ocean.
“John,” she whispered. “Last night, you should know that I—”
He put a finger to her lips. “Charlotte, wait. I need to apologize first. I should never have—”
“No,” she interrupted, pulling back. “No, I must apologize first.” She brushed down her skirts and tucked a loose curl behind her ear before launching into the speech she’d rehearsed. “John, I love you. I love you with every ounce of my being, but you know that already. Love was never our problem, was it?”
John’s lips quirked. “No, love was never the issue.”
She nodded, glad for the confirmation. “The issue was that I was terribly, terribly afraid. I have a happy and comfortable life here in England and there’s nothing that has really challenged it. When I said no to you, I was acting out of cowardice. I had no confidence in my abilities to succeed elsewhere. I’m terrified of being alone and I let that fear force me to make a decision that I shouldn’t have.
“Because I won’t be alone, will I? I will have you by my side and, in that case, I know I can establish myself somewhere else. I know we could go to Boston together and I would find new people. I would make new friends, and you would be my family.
“So I changed my mind. Yes, John. Yes, I’ll come with you to Boston.” She paused and looked up. “Just not on this particular ship because I do not think the captain cares for me.”
Now that the words were out of her, she could study his reaction. If anything, he looked disappointed, which was not at all the reception she was going for. She put a hand to his chest, felt the unsteadythump…th-thump…thumpof his heartbeat. “John, what is the matter?” She thought he’d be thrilled. Instead, he looked devastated.
“I should never have made you choose,” he said through a strangled throat. “It wasn’t fair. And though to hear you say such words makes my heart leap, the reality is you don’t need to come with me to Boston.”
She furrowed her brow, confused. “You don’twantme to come with you?”
He took her shoulders in both hands. “I want you with me always. But you don’t need to come to Boston for that. We will have a life here in London.”
Charlotte furrowed her brow. “But would you be happy? With all the people?”
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, a resigned but not unhappy movement. “I don’t mind all the people,” he said. “Not when you’re one of them.” He tipped up her chin with his finger and captured her mouth with his.
It was a kiss to get lost in. A kiss that promised a future of more kissing, kissing everywhere. It promised quiet nights spent together and noisy ones spent with friends. It promised a happiness she didn’t know was possible.
A horn blasted. She looked up to see the deckhands scurrying off. Only two people remained watching. The captain, whose foul mood seemed completely unaffected by her and John’s joyful reunion, and Will, who winked before sauntering off.
John pushed an oar against the side of the ship and their little boat glided away from it. “Give me one,” she said, holding her hand out.
“You do not have to row.”
She shook her hand at him. “Just give it to me. You do not have to do all the work on your own. I’m sure we can keep in time with each other.”
He handed it over and she settled herself, rolling her shoulders.
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips, sending shivers through her. “You really will not believe my day.”
Chapter 34
January 1828
Charlotte?” John’s voice echoed down the hallway and through the open bedroom door. Daphne, the kitchen maid at their Hampshire estate, shot Charlotte a panicked look.
“It’s perfectly fine, Daphne. You’re not doing anything wrong.”
The maid obviously didn’t agree, her hands squeezing creases into her apron. “Mr. Bellswap would have a fit if he discovered I was in your bedroom, my lady.”
Charlotte sniffed. “Bellswap is a snob, and his lordship won’t tattle on us.” Their country butler had been overcome with joy when the estates passed from Walter’s hands into John’s. He’d quickly replaced the silver, restocked the wine cellar, and increased the number of staff, and now, almost three years later, the house was running in a manner he deemed proper for an earl and his countess. Except when said earl and countess were not entirely proper themselves.
John entered the bedroom and Daphne curtseyed, keeping her gaze trained on her shoes as she scurried out of the room.
“Good afternoon,” John called after her. He was uncomfortable with the staff’s deference but they continued to pay it to him, no doubt in fear of Bellswap’s displeasure. With a sigh, he turned to his wife, then his gaze traveled to her desk. “Again, Charlotte?” He gestured toward the telegraph that Charlotte was sitting in front of, and to the lists that sat next to it, neatly written in their cook’s prim hand.
“Lady Hornsworth did not answer, once again. She refuses to use it. So I asked Daphne to bring me the cook’s grocery orders.”
