As he reached his room, an odd thought came unbidden into his mind.
He never did say he loved her, though.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Robert arrivedat Haverstone that same afternoon, he was escorted into the drawing room where Lady Gillingham and her sister waited. They rose from their chairs to offer a gracious curtsy. Lady Gillingham beamed, while Charlotte kept her eyes slightly lowered. Sensing her nerves, Robert acted as casually as possible. He greeted the ladies with a bow and thanked them for the invitation to the estate.
“I have been most eager for a tour of your gardens, Lady Gillingham,” he said. “Perhaps I shall acquire some ideas for my own.”
“We are delighted to have you,” Dorothea replied. “Are we not, Charlotte, dear?”
“Yes. You are most welcome, Mr. Morton.” She gave him a smile that he noted did not quite reach her eyes.
“Well, I recommend that you go into the garden at once, before it becomes too warm.” Dorothea went to the bell pull and gave a firm yank. Almost immediately, the door opened and Becca presented herself with a perfunctory curtsy.
“Ah, thank you for being so prompt, Becca,” Dorothea said. Turning to Robert, she added, “Charlotte’s maid, Becca, will accompany you and my sister to the garden, Mr. Morton. I am so dreadfully behind in my correspondence that I must beg you to allow me to decline today’s walk. I shall join you for tea when you return,naturally.”
“Of course, please, do not worry about my taking any offense,” Robert replied, stepping forward and offering his arm to Charlotte, who took it. “Shall we?” He smiled down on her in as sincere a manner as he could manage and was rewarded with what he perceived as a genuine smile in return. Good. This private time together was critical to wooing her.
*
Together, Charlotte andRobert strolled through the rose garden, Becca walking a good fifteen paces behind. She was close enough to observe the couple’s behavior but not to overhear any conversation. Charlotte was certain a full report from the maid would be given to Dorothea later, however.
After making some predictable conversation about the beauty of the roses, Mr. Morton cleared his throat. “Miss Kendall, I wish to confess something to you,” he said.
“Oh? What might that be, Mr. Morton?”
She heard a slight tremor in her voice. Oh, heavens, was he going to state his intentions? No, please, it was too soon. How should she reply if he did?
“I confess that when we first met I was quite prepared to dislike you.”
Charlotte’s mouth fell open, and she halted her steps to raise a stunned countenance to him. “You were?”
“Yes. You see, I am quite fond of Lord and Lady Gillingham; I have known them for years and think highly of them. But, ever since the passing of my father and becoming the new owner of Brentwood estate, I have become increasingly wary of every invitation to dinner parties—especially when there is an eligible young lady present. So, when I came to that first dinner here and met you…well…”
Charlotte gave a soft laugh. “I suppose it is commonly believed that any unmarried gentleman possessing a good fortune is also presumed to be in great need of a wife. I am sorry if their invitation put you in an uncomfortable position or spoilt your evening.”
The two resumed their walk.
“Please, do not fret over it,” he said. “Although, if my memory is correct, you did not appear to be quite at ease with being pushed toward me that night.” He laughed. “Ah, I see by your rising color that my words are accurate. Pray, do not think I am scolding you in any way. It was simply my observation.”
“I confess your assessment of my character that evening is entirely correct; I was not at all comfortable with being trotted out like a prize mare for your inspection. Fortunately, having your brother there as well made my sister’s intentions…slightly less obvious?”
“A bit.” He laughed, then turned serious. “And then, of course, at our second encounter, my behavior was anything but gracious or charming. You do not know how many times I have berated myself for my rudeness. It was unpardonable.”
Charlotte opened her mouth, but he hurried on. “I know you say you have forgiven me—and I sincerely pray that is true—because if you held even the slightest resentment toward me I should be forced to abandon all hope of winning your friendship and…admiration.”
Charlotte stopped in her tracks once more and studied his handsome face. He seemed in earnest, and she suddenly felt sorry for him. Was he really still worried over that? She squeezed his arm gently.
“As I told you before, it is all in the past and quite forgotten. I wish for us to be friends, of course.” She laughed softly. “Now, had I broken a bone, perhaps I would still bear some resentment, but as it is, no real harm was done.”
“Then…we are friends?” he asked softly.
Charlotte felt her heart race and a peculiar feeling came over her, but what was she feeling exactly? It seemed to be happy anticipationand fear all mixed together. She took a deep breath. “Yes, of course,” she answered shakily. “We are neighbors and friends and…I hope we always will be.”
“Thank you. But, my dear Miss Kendall, may I confess something else?” At her nod, he continued, “I have hopes of us being more than friends. My admiration for you is such that I dare dream our relationship will soon be significant beyond being merely neighbors and close acquaintances.”
Charlotte stumbled back a few steps and held her hands to her burning face. He quickly closed the distance between them, taking both her hands in his own.
