Page 27

“You generally manage without encouragement,” she said dryly, and the small, answering lift of her hand on his arm told him she did not mind at all.

He laughed as her hand settled more comfortably on his arm, its small, warm weight more precious than he cared to admit. They spoke of Eleanor’s hat, which she had apparently worn at dinner to show it had been recovered. Much to her husband's visible discomfort. Charlotte described a letter from Amelia containing very little news and several opinions, and mimicked the underlining so exactly that Alexander had to stop and wipe his eyes. He told her about the solicitor’s determination to explain a matter he had already explained twice in writing, and she listened with her head tilted, murmuring sympathy in all the right places.

It was easy. He had not expected happiness to arrive in such ordinary moments. He had imagined winning her affection again through some particularly thoughtful gesture. Perhaps a declaration so well chosen that she could not doubt his sincerity. Instead, he found himself absurdly pleased because she had leaned nearer to tell him something uncharitable about a passing bonnet. Her breath warm at his ear and her shoulder brushing his arm.

They came to a quieter stretch of path, where the trees grew thicker, and the voices fell away. “May I ask you something?” Alexander said, slowing his steps.

“You may,” Charlotte replied.

“Did you regret inviting me?” he asked.

Her hand shifted on his arm, and he felt her fingers tighten. He stopped before she could think, expecting a careless answer, and turned to see her face. Charlotte looked toward the trees, considering, her gaze following a high branch as it swayed. “No,” she said at last.

Relief passed through him, so sharp that he nearly staggered. “I am glad.”

“I wished that I had not insisted you leave at sunrise,” she admitted, with a rueful twist of her mouth.

He turned toward her fully. “You might have told me.”

“I know.” She smoothed a fold of her skirt, and her voice dropped. “But I was not certain whether I wanted you to stay or merely disliked watching you go.”

“Must there be a difference?” he asked, gently.

“For me, yes,” Charlotte said.

He studied her face, the faint flush along her cheekbones and the steady. Honesty shone in her eyes. She was speaking more openly than he had any right to expect. He would not spoil it by telling her how much he wanted that distinction to disappear. How the wish rose in him and pressed against him.

“Then I am glad you kept your morning,” he said. Because what else could he say? That he too wished he could have stayed. It was the truth, but he didn’t want her to feel cornered. He had to be patient.

Charlotte’s gaze returned to his, searching. “Are you?”

“I would prefer you to invite me again because you want me,” Alexander said, “rather than spend the day wondering whether you yielded or gave in before you were ready.”

She was quiet for a moment, and he waited, his heart beating hard. Then she slipped her hand more securely through his arm, and the small, deliberate movement went through him like warm wine. “That is a very good answer,” she said.

“I have been improving with practice,” he said lightly.

“Let us not become too confident,” she said, smiling despite the warning.

They resumed walking, their steps falling into an easy rhythm. At the next turning, she told him about a concert she intended to attend with Daphne. Her hands moved in small gestures as she warmed to the subject. He asked about the music, and she described the singer with an enthusiasm that made him wish he had secured a place beside her. He could almost see it… A violin in a dim hall, her shoulder against his.

He almost suggested it. Then she mentioned they had made the arrangement weeks earlier, and he asked what time she wanted to be home today instead, swallowing the unspoken wish. “In another half hour,” Charlotte said. “There is no need to look at your watch yet.”

He smiled, caught. “I should hate to make you late.”

“How thoughtful,” she said. “I appreciate your consideration.”

“Perhaps I shall find another way to please you.” Her smile grew wider. “I have an idea,” Alexander said.

“How alarming,” Charlotte said, with a theatrical sigh.

“My mother’s birthday falls next month,” he began. “Eleanor wants to give a large dinner, though Mother would much prefer fewer guests and better company.”

Charlotte laughed. “That does sound like Eleanor.”

“I should like to give her something more agreeable,” he said.

She tilted her head. “Your mother or your sister?”