Pierce chuckled. “Albert almost had a heart attack when he first noticed your…fondness for walking barefoot.”
Charlaine smiled at the memory of Albert’s shocked face. It had literally drained of blood, giving the dear man a frighteningly pale complexion. However, the time he had caught her sliding down the banister had been worse. Charlaine had feared he would drop dead then and there, and she had immediately promised him not to do so again.
A promise she regretted every once in a while.
As did Daphne and Susan.
Belatedly, Charlaine noticed that Pierce’s arm under her hand had turned to steel, his muscles tense to the point of breaking. When she looked up at him, she found his jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard as though he were locked in a battle of life and death. “Pierce?” she whispered, thrown off by the hateful glare in his eyes as he stared at a man and a woman, who were taking a stroll through the park not unlike them.
While the man bore a bit of an upturned expression, something dark lurking in his smile, the woman looked…hurt. Her eyes barely dared to meet Pierce’s, and Charlaine thought she saw a deep sadness clinging to her bespectacled face.
Pulling on Pierce’s arm, Charlaine leaned closer. “Is that her?”
A few days ago, Charlaine had caught Pierce daydreaming in his study—truthfully, there was no other word for it!—and she had felt compelled to ask him then and there about the woman who had stolen his heart. Although he had been more than reluctant to divulge anything to her, he had told Charlaine her name.
Caroline.
As he continued to stare at the couple merely a short distance away, not a word passed Pierce’s lips. However, the look in his eyes became murderous.
“You look as though your head is about to explode,” Charlaine remarked, wishing he would snap out of this trance. She gave his arm a gentle tug. “What’s wrong?”
Still, he wouldn’t answer her.
Had he even heard her?
“You’re frightening me,” she told him, then stepped in his line of sight.
Nothing.
He looked past her.
Then his body suddenly jerked forward, and Charlaine acted without thought. “No!” With both hands up, she shoved against his chest, keeping him in place. “Talk to me! What’s wrong?”
Finally, he blinked and his eyes found her. “I’m sorry but I need to—”
“Who was that man?” Charlaine demanded as a cold shiver snaked down her back. “His smile was false. Is he the man everyone has been whispering about?” Her hands seized his. “Tell me!”
Ever since she had arrived in London, Charlaine had slowly become aware of a dark secret that lingered over Pierce’s household. Not that it was a secret any longer, at least not to his servants. Everyone knew, and everyone was shocked.
Befriending not only Albert, but also Mrs. Colden, the cook, Jacob, the footman, as well as Miss Glass, Susan’s mother, Charlaine had learned that Pierce blamed a man by the name of Lord Coleridge for the murder of Daphne’s parents.
Only he could not prove it.
Not yet.
Had this been the man? Lord Coleridge?
Pierce gritted his teeth, but finally answered her. “Yes.”
“Why was she with him?” Charlaine asked, by now certain that the woman on Lord Coleridge’s arm had been Caroline, the one who had stolen Pierce’s heart. “Does she know?”
His jaw shifted forward and then back. Then he nodded.
Charlaine sighed. “She looked sad,” she observed, aware that in his anger Pierce had failed to notice. “She looked frightened.” Her arm slipped back through his, and he finally looked at her.
His gaze was still distant, but Charlaine thought she saw a spark of recognition as though he were replaying the moment in his mind and finally saw something that had eluded him before. “I’ll take you home,” he muttered then, guiding her back the way they’d come. “There’s something…I need to look into.”
Charlaine chuckled. “You should tell her you love her,” she told him with a smile. “You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Pierce squeezed her hand, and a wistful look came to his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here,” he told her with an affectionate smile.
“As am I,” Charlaine replied as her heart recovered a little more from the loss it had so recently suffered. It still hurt, but it could heal.
If she let it.
As they returned home, Albert welcomed them with his usual stiffness. “My lord. Miss Palmer.” He gave them a courteous bow, awaiting orders. Pierce, however, immediately excused himself and disappeared in his study.
“My dearest Albert,” Charlaine addressed the man, ignoring the way his cheeks grew pale. “You should’ve come with us. A bit of sunshine would do you well.” She smiled up at him. “I admit I was thoroughly tempted to take off my shoes and feel the fresh grass under my feet.”
The man swallowed hard.
“Have you ever tried it?”
“No,” was all he said.
“Not once?”
“Not once,” he confirmed.
“Why not?” Charlaine pressed, wondering what it would take to get him to loosen his posture.
“It’s not proper,” Albert remarked, then paled, his eyes going wide. “I didn’t mean to suggest that—”
“I’m not offended, Albert,” Charlaine assured him with an easy smile. “I know your heart is in the right place and I would never believe that you’re thinking ill of me.” She chuckled. “No matter how much I offend you with my…oddities.”
Although Albert refrained from saying another word, Charlaine did not miss the amused twinkle that came to his eyes before he bowed to her and then turned and left.
“What a dear man,” Charlaine mumbled as she climbed the stairs to the upper floor and proceeded down the corridor to see the girls. She found them sitting over their letters, their little heads bent and deep frowns on their faces as Miss Glass showed them how to hold the quill and move it across the parchment.
“Is this right?” Daphne asked, holding up her rendition of a P.
Miss Glass smiled. “Very good, Daphne. You’re halfway to writing your name.”
Daphne beamed, then glanced over at Susan. “It’s not fair that your name only has five letters.” She shook her head, looking appalled. “And two are even the same.”
Susan grinned mischievously.
“Challenges are good,” Charlaine remarked as she stepped into the room. “For otherwise, we would never know what we’re truly capable of.”
Thinking about that for a moment, Daphne then sat back down and returned her concentration to the parchment before her.
“Well said,” Miss Glass replied as she came to join Charlaine by the window. “Are you all right? You look thoughtful?” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she cast a careful glance over the two girls, lost in their task.
Miss Glass—or Emma as Charlaine had come to call her—was a slender, delicate-looking, young woman with pale blond hair, but brilliantly blue eyes that shone like sapphires when she laughed. She was rather shy, her voice seldom louder than that of a small bird. Still, her dedication to the girls spoke volumes about her character, even if her voice did not. Charlaine adored her. “Pierce and I saw someone at the park,” she whispered to Emma. “I suspect the woman was Caroline.”