“Oh no, that’s not necessary, Captain.” Mrs. Boyle’s hands fluttered like two agitated birds. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to—”
“You didn’t ask.” He smiled. “I offered, and I insist.”
Mrs. Boyle flushed. “Oh well, I suppose that’s all right, then. So kind of you. Just this way, Captain. I should have sent a maid to do this, but the silly girls refuse to enter this part of the house. They claim it’s haunted. Can you imagine such nonsense?”
Julian followed Mrs. Boyle down the hall, past the stairwell, and around a corner. “Well, young girls are a dramatic lot, and Hadley’s death was rather tragic, I believe?”
“Just here, Captain.” Mrs. Boyle held out her arms for the linens. She didn’t answer his question, and she clearly didn’t intend to let him into her mistress’s bedchamber.
But Julian wasn’t quite finished with Mrs. Boyle yet. “Difficult for your mistress, wasn’t it? Such a shock.”
“Difficult, yes.” The housekeeper said no more, but nodded meaningfully at the linens.
Damn it. Mrs. Boyle wasn’t a gossip, unfortunately. Julian tried a different tack. “I wonder, Mrs. Boyle, if you might help me. Your mistress is suffering from low spirits since she returned from London. Do you have any suggestions as to how I might cheer her?”
Mrs. Boyle’s face softened at mention of Charlotte’s distress. “Ah, well. It’s the house, you see, Captain. Not enough time has passed for her ladyship to be easy here. His lordship is gone just over a year now, and then there was that terrible business with the dowager ladyship, and what followed afterwards—”
“Afterwards?”
But his expression must have been too eager, because Mrs. Boyle gave him a wary look. “Well, the less said aboutthat, the better. This house holds too many distressing memories for her ladyship, Captain. The best thing you can do for her is to take her away from Hadley House.”
Julian couldn’t agree more, but short of abducting her, he didn’t see how it could be done. He handed the linens into Mrs. Boyle’s waiting arms. “Have you seen Lady Hadley today, Mrs. Boyle?”
The housekeeper’s brow furrowed. “Now let me see. No, not since this morning. She took tea in her room, quite early. Didn’t eat a bite, though.” Mrs. Boyle shook her head over this. “Doesn’t eat enough, you know. Too thin by half.”
Julian did his best to disguise his impatience. Lady Hadley was thin, but not quite invisible yet, which meantsomeonemust have seen her. “And you haven’t seen her since then?”
“No, I’m afraid not. She likes to walk in the small garden off the study. Perhaps you’ll find her there.”
He doubted it. Charlotte knew how to disappear. He’d not find her in any of her usual haunts. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Mrs. Boyle.”
He spent the rest of the day scouring the house and grounds for Charlotte. He wandered from the portrait gallery to the drawing room, from the library back to the hallway outside her bedchamber, from the rose garden to the stables. He spoke to one giggling maid after another, cornered each of the footmen, and even followed the butler about until the harassed man finally ducked into the pantry to escape him, but no one had seen Charlotte.
By tea time he’d nearly gone mad, and to make matters worse, Charlotte didn’t appear for tea. Julian took it alone, then retired to his chamber and threw himself on the bed, exhausted. He lay there with his arm over his eyes for a long time, lost in thought. Dusk had descended before he at last dragged himself from the bed and took a seat at the desk by the window.
He’d have to write to Cam. He doubted his cousin would be surprised to receive his letter. Cam must have known all along it would come to this, and was only waiting for Julian to admit it to himself.
A kindness on Cam’s part. One I don’t deserve.
Cam would have to come and retrieve Charlotte himself. She must leave Hadley House at once. Her happiness—no, her very health depended on it, and he could see now she’d never agree to let him take her to Bellwood. He’d hurt her too badly, and nothing he said or did would make her trust him again.
He pressed his palms to his eyes and let the emotions roll over him—each more familiar than the last, but terrible still, for all that they’d become his constant companions. Loss. Regret. A sorrow so deep his bones ached with it.
All the time he’d chased Charlotte around London he’d told himself it was for her own good, but he hadn’t truly done it for her. He’d done it for himself, because every time he looked at her he was reminded of the man he’d once been. Julian. That man had embraced life, had treasured every tug and swell and burst of his heart as the sweetest thing life had to offer.
Joyful, and kind—so kind, with eyes both dark and light at once, like a sky full of stars.
Every time he saw Charlotte he was reminded he wasn’t that man anymore, but he wanted to be—God, he wanted to be, but how could he when he had nothing left in his heart but hurt? Even now, sitting here at this desk, he still didn’t know who he was.
But he knew more than he had when he’d arrived.
He knew who he wasn’t.
He was no hero, and he couldn’t save Charlotte any more than he could bring Colin back to life. The best he could do now was make amends by taking care of Jane. Maybe Charlotte was right and there was no luck, only justice, and he’d pay his dues with a lifetime of regrets.
He stared listlessly out the window. Below in the stable yard a groom led out an enormous gray stallion and held him with some difficulty as the horse pranced and pawed at the ground, anxious to be off.
The man called to someone behind him, someone Julian couldn’t see. Damn risky time for a ride. It was nearing dusk. Who—
