The Beauty and the Spy (25 page)

When the basket on her arm was full, she turned and began to walk back slowly toward the house. She lifted her face into the wind, let it blow her hair about. She'd taken to wearing it down, and she told herself it wasn't because Nick liked it that way. It was just…convenient out here in the country. Her bonnet hung down her back, allowing the late summer sun to touch her face.

She turned down a gravel path, circling a splashing fountain, and as the manor came into view again, she saw someone in the distance walking toward her.

She froze, knowing there was only one man she knew with shoulders that broad, with a walk that was almost a swagger.

Nick Wright had come to call.

C
harlotte was angry with Nick as he came closer and closer. They had said good-bye—why did he feel the need to come back again, to make her relive the pain? She almost wanted to shout at him to leave her alone.

But she said nothing, just clutched the basket in both hands and stared at him as her heart raced.

He stopped a few feet away from her and removed his top hat. “Hello, Charlotte.”

Distance; she had to remember what separated them. “Good day, Lord Folkestone.”

He winced. “Surely I can have a better greeting than that.”

She hesitated and then said softly, “Hello, Nick.”

He grinned, and as always, his dark, masculine beauty made her weak inside. Did he actually have the gall to let his gaze linger on her in a less than gentlemanly way?

“I didn't think there was anything more to be said between us,” she said coolly, beginning to walk back to the manor. “Unless it was to tell me that you're off on another mission.”

He took the basket from her hand and fell into step beside her. “No, but I did just return from London.”

“You escorted Julia back?”

“No, she's still in jail in Leeds. But I had to speak with my superiors at headquarters.”

“I'm sure they were thrilled at your success.”

“At our success.”

She lifted one eyebrow as she regarded him. “So you told them about me?”

“Not much. It wasn't their business. But I did explain that it was a group effort.”

“How decent of you. I'm sure Sam and Will and Mr. Cox appreciate it.”

He was smiling at her, as if he knew a secret she didn't. She didn't like it at all—didn't like him for bringing back the feelings she'd tried so hard to repress. Did he feel so little for her that this didn't even hurt him?

“I spoke to my stepmother as well,” he said. “She was in London for the end of the Season.”

She glanced at him in surprise, but he wasn't looking at her. “And how is she doing?”

“As well as can be expected. She's quite worried about finances—and worried about her children.”

“Did you meet them?”

“No, they were at the family seat in Kent.”

Was that regret in his voice? She was glad.

“I hope you will take this opportunity to spend some time with them before you leave the country,” she urged. “Having close family is such a blessing.”

“But I'm not leaving the country.”

She stumbled over a pebble. “I'm glad that the army gave you some free time. You deserve it.”

“But that's why I went to London. I resigned my commission.”

She came to a halt, and if she had been holding the basket, she would have dropped it. She was too afraid to look at him. “What—what will you be doing?”

“I have too many responsibilities now, with the title and all. You can't believe how much property there is to manage. And frankly I've become a bit too prominent to be a spy anymore. Although the Foreign Office did mention something about consulting on matters in Afghanistan.”

Was Nick actually…rambling?

“I'm not really sure how to go about it all,” he
continued, “the title and everything, but I thought if you'd…help me, I might make a go of it.”

Help him? Her hands started to shake.

His voice softened. “You see, Char, I'm afraid I'm going to turn into my father.”

“Oh Nick,” she whispered. “You're nothing like him.”

“But I almost was. I fled into the army thinking I could become a better man than he was through service to my country. But I never saw that I almost made myself become as distant as him out of fear.”

They stopped walking and faced each other, not touching, but yearning.

“I didn't want to feel pain, so I told myself I didn't need love. But there was always this part of me I thought was weak, this part that wanted to look on a woman and…protect her. I hated that part of me, until I met you.”

Charlotte could barely breathe for the waiting that burned in her. Was he really saying what she hoped he was?

He reached out and gently touched her cheek. “You deserve nothing less than every tenderness I could show you. But I drove you away. You told me you loved me and I froze. How could I deserve—” He broke off as his voice grew hoarse. “But I couldn't get those words out of my mind. I think…if you could still…love me, after everything I've done, I could prove to you that I'm worth it.”

She put both hands on his and held it to her face, breathing in the scent she'd dreamed about for so many nights. “Oh Nick, I do love you. And even if you…still need time—”

“No, no I don't need any more time,” he said, sliding his arms about her and pulling her close. “I've had too much time away from you. I thought it would be better, but these past days have been the darkest of my life. I missed your optimism, your courage, the way you refused to let me get the best of you. I love the way your face shines with every emotion you feel. I love you, Char,” he whispered.

Her tears overflowed at the sweetness of his voice. “I owe Edith so much.”

He looked startled at her mention of his first lover.

“Don't you see?” she continued. “She taught you how to love. And the pain of losing her made you the wonderful, tender man you are.”

“Thank you,” he said simply, smiling.

She could see in his face that he'd never thought of Edith that way, that he had only associated her with his guilt. Maybe he could now let it go.

When he dropped to his knees she gasped. Her hand trembled as he raised it to his lips.

“Char, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

And in the momentary silence, she saw in his eyes his doubt and his hope—and his love. He had
thought himself unworthy of true happiness, yet he offered her the world.

“Oh yes, Nick,” she cried, and threw her arms around his neck.

With a shout of triumph, he surged to his feet and swept her off the ground, spinning her until she laughed for joy under the sun.

N
ick and Charlotte were married in a private ceremony with only family in attendance. Standing next to Will and Sam at the altar, Nick looked with amazement as his lovely bride smiled at him. Beside her, Jane, who was already expecting, looked ready to be sick.

But that didn't bother Nick. He was fully hoping his own wife would soon be expecting. He was surprised how much he looked forward to the thought of watching a baby in her arms, to teaching his child to ride a horse and swim in the pond.
These were all things he'd never done before, and the challenges seemed endless and rewarding.

He knew he could count on the colonel, who'd trusted Nick enough to give him his daughter. As for Lady Whittington, she'd almost fainted the first time she saw Nick, but since then was treating him graciously. He was certain his title helped. The colonel stood beside his wife, and although Charlotte had told him about the deep estrangement between her parents, Nick had seen them talking together. Perhaps they could find their way back to each other.

He glanced back at his own family, seated rigidly in their pews. His stepmother wore black, and in the few minutes he'd spoken with her, he sensed that she had now latched on to him in desperation. He had thought he'd resent that, but strangely, he didn't. He felt sorry for what she'd endured in her marriage. He hoped he could someday make her feel comfortable enough so that she could learn to enjoy life for her children's sake.

In his brother and sisters he could see the loneliness of children who never felt loved, their angry desperation to be noticed—he knew those feelings well. He would make sure they understood that he was nothing like their father—like
his
father. He would be a brother to guide them, as he always wished he had had.

And it was all possible because of Charlotte, who looked up at him with trust and love. He
was humbled by her faith in him, and he wanted nothing more than to give her everything in life that she deserved. She'd gone from being a frightened widow to being a woman confident in herself. If he'd had a small part in that, he was grateful.

When the minister pronounced them man and wife, Nick looked down into her face and cupped her cheeks. As he leaned down to kiss her, he said the words he would never tire of.

“I love you, Charlotte.”

G
AYLE
C
ALLEN
There have always been people running around in my head, so I started writing when I was thirteen years old and never stopped. I loved creating whole other worlds for my friends to read about—and that's still what motivates me today.

I live in central New York with my wonderful husband, Jim; my three children; and our dog, Apollo. I spend a lot of time cheering on my children at soccer and lacrosse games. Besides writing, I love to read, sing, and delve too deeply into historical research. Come visit my website at www.gaylecallen.com.

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