Peter had always been that friend. Through all the losses Charlaine had suffered, Peter had been there. He had held her hand and told her that all would be well. That the sun would shine again and that laughter would return.
Now, he, too, was gone.
But, now, Charlaine had Pierce.
Somehow, the world always continued on. Somehow, a friend always found his way to her side. Charlaine was grateful for it, and it gave her the strength to continue on through the dark, knowing that one day the light would find her once more.
And then she spotted a young man standing on the other end of the terrace, his face almost identical to that of Lord Pembroke. “He must be his brother,” Charlaine mumbled to herself, remembering what Pierce had told her about their host.
Her eyes swept over the man’s tense shoulders, the hard line of his jaw and the way he stood turned away from everyone. Admittedly, Charlaine, too, stood facing out into the gardens. However, the man’s posture made Charlaine think that he was keeping himself apart intentionally. A hint of pain lingered in the way he held his hands clenched behind his back, a tension that Charlaine knew only too well.
He was grieving.
Something had plunged him into a black abyss…however, he was not trying to fight to get out. No, it seemed as though he had given up and accepted his lot in life.
Accepted the dark.
The pain.
The sorrow.
Remembering her own moments of utter desolation, Charlaine straightened her shoulders and inhaled a deep breath. It certainly would not be easy, judging from the way the muscle in the man’s jaw kept twitching. Still, whether he would admit it or not, Charlaine knew that what he needed above all else was a friend.
And since there was no one else around applying for the position, she would step up.
She would be his friend.
Perhaps Fate had sent her here this day to fill the gap in his life.
To help him.
And she would.
Chapter Seven
A Fork in the Road
Ignoring the happy voices at his back, Nathanial kept his gaze fixed on something far away. He did not know how long he stood on his own, away from others. No one missed him. No one noticed that he no longer shared in their conversations. No one called him back over.
Of course, Nathanial was not surprised.
After all, he did not have a place among these people. He wasn’t certain he wanted one. But he needed to belong somewhere, did he not? Was this where Zach had found his new home? A home that simply had no place for Nathanial? Of course, Zach would never send him away, but now everything was different.
Before, it had been the two of them side by side, hand in hand, facing the world. Now, Zach had his wife, new friends, extended family. He no longer needed Nathanial the way he had before.
It was a gloomy thought to be certain, but a true one nonetheless. And above all, Nathanial knew that he needed to face the truth.
“Hello,” a soft voice spoke to his right, and Nathanial turned to see a rather unusual woman step up to him. She was clearly not of English descent. Her hair was the darkest ebony he had ever seen. Brown eyes swept his face as she leaned against the stone balustrade. “You must be Lord Pembroke’s brother.” She smiled at him. “Do you have a name?”
Her melodious voice reminded Nathanial of Abigail, of her lies, of the many smiles she had bestowed upon him, of her betrayal. “I’m not interested,” he heard himself snap before he could stop himself. Had he not only moments ago promised he would not ruin his brother’s wedding celebration? And here he was insulting one of his brother’s guests!
Oddly enough, though, the woman did not put him in his place before storming off and sharing his lacking manners with the world. No, instead she laughed.
Not in mockery.
But in amusement.
“You’re not interested? In what? Giving me your name?” Smiling, she looked up at him. “Do you want me to guess?” Her lips curled, and she placed her right forefinger to one corner of her mouth. “Well, people only ever refer to your brother as Lord Pembroke. So, I don’t even know his last name…or yours, for that matter. Besides, last names are very dull, wouldn’t you agree?” Her gaze swept over him from head to toe. “First names then,” she mumbled. “Robert? Charles? Bernard?” Her smile turned into a bit of a wicked grin. “Igor? Spartacus? Caesar? I could go on, but you’d make it a lot easier on both of us if you simply told me.”
Taken aback by her strange response, Nathanial simply stared at her, wondering if such a woman truly existed or if he was hallucinating.
“How about this?” she said, her gaze seeking his. “I’ll tell you mine first.” Again, the corners of her mouth quirked upward. “My name is Charlaine Palmer. Now, you.”
Nathanial inhaled a slow breath. Perhaps if he answered her she would go away and leave him alone. “Nathanial Caswell.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Nathanial.” Annoyingly, her smile did not dim and neither did she show the slightest inclination to leave. “Indeed, Nathanial is much better than Igor.” Sighing, Miss Palmer turned around, her hands resting on the balustrade as her gaze swept the extensive lawns. “It is beautiful here.” She glanced up at him. “Do you enjoy England?”
Nathanial shrugged.
“I’m from Jamaica,” she told him, even though he had not asked. “And you?”
Nathanial sighed. “Boston.” Who knew what strange destinations she would start to name if he refrained from answering?
“I’ve never been there,” Miss Palmer remarked. “I’ve never been anywhere. My whole life, I spent in that one small village, saw the same beloved people every day and never contemplated leaving this small speck of land I called home.” A deep sigh left her lips, and Nathanial thought he heard something more painful lurking behind the wistfulness. “England is a strange place.”
Nathanial swallowed, wondering if Miss Palmer had somehow sensed his own reservations or if it had merely been a lucky guess. “Why are you here?” he all but growled under his breath, wishing she would simply leave him alone. Her cheerfulness made him feel even worse about his own dark mood.
“We were invited,” she told him with a sideways glance that made Nathanial wonder if she had intentionally misunderstood him.
“No, here? With me?” he clarified, no longer worried he would offend her for that seemed impossible to do. “I do believe I’ve made it clear that I do not wish to converse.”
Miss Palmer chuckled, her eyes turning back to look upon him. “That you have.”
“Then why are you still here?” he asked, trying not to look at her. Those deep brown eyes were oddly unsettling. Indeed, the whole woman was odd and unsettling.
Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she grinned at him. “Because you need me.”
His gaze snapped over to meet hers. “I beg your pardon?”
Smiling at him, she exhaled, then shook her head at him. “Quite frankly, you look in desperate need of a friend and I’ve decided to be that friend for you.”
Of all the possible things she could have said in response to his question, this one had been nowhere among them. “You…want to be my…friend?” he asked carefully, wondering if his hearing could be impaired.