Page 21

C harlotte Trenton threw open her arms to welcome her younger brother.

“William! How wonderful to see you!” She twisted her head to the side. “James, William has come!”

A surly voice floated up from behind a newspaper. “Don’t shout, woman. You’ll give me a headache.”

The newspaper lowered in a crumpling fold, and the red curls and pale face of William’s brother-in-law appeared with an all-too-familiar scowl. It soon evaporated, however, and James jumped to his feet, extending his hand as he did so.

“William! This is an excellent surprise. Why didn’t you say it was William, Charlotte?”

Charlotte and her brother exchanged knowing smiles that were quite lost on James Trenton. He grabbed William by the arm and pulled him into a hearty embrace with a slap on the back.

“Always good to see you,” James told his brother-in-law. “Especially now that Charlotte has been neglecting me.”

“Oh, hush, Husband,” Charlotte teased. “You have nothing to complain about. You are the most beloved of all men in Munro.”

“That may have been true once.” James pouted, though a smile had begun to break through the corners of his mouth. “Now, however, I am but third in your heart.”

“Ah, yes.” William pretended to scold his sister. “I have seen how you dote upon your children. How could poor James ever compete for your affection?”

“He does not need to.” Charlotte slipped her arms about her husband’s waist and hugged him, her blonde locks—so similar to Lawrence’s—falling upon his shoulder. “There is room in my heart for all three of you. And you, too, of course, William,” she added hastily.

“And for our brother, Lawrence,” William reminded her. “And Mother and Father.” He began to count them off on his fingers. “And don’t forget the milkman and the butcher and the farmer in his fields. Charlotte has room in her heart for all of mankind.”

“Oh, you!” Charlotte laughed. “I am not nearly the gracious soul you make me out to be.”

“No, my dear. William is right.” James was suddenly solemn. “You are the best of us. I am a lucky man.”

“Well!” Charlotte blushed. “As usual, William, it has taken you but a minute to bring joy to our home.” She lowered her lashes at her husband. “And you, dearest James, still know how to bring out the girlish flush in my cheeks.”

“You do brighten our household, dear boy,” said James. “Which is why I cannot understand that it has taken you this long to visit us. You’ve been stationed in Munro since December, I understand. Why have you waited more than two months to come and see us?”

“And scarcely a letter in six months, either,” complained Charlotte.

“I’ve had all my news of you from Mother and Lawrence, neither of whom tells the whole story, I’ll wager.

Lawrence is too correct and Mother is too protective.

But I know you. To leave as suddenly as you did last year.

And then to return just as suddenly, sans bride, and in uniform… ”

“Do you like it?” William interrupted. He opened his arms to show off his red coat and brass buttons.

“I don’t care about your attire,” his sister replied. “I care about you. And poor Miss Lockhart. Did you have to break her heart? She is such a harmless thing. Not at all your usual type. Why would you rush off to claim her, only to give up on her completely?”

“Hmph, she doesn’t have a heart to break,” William said rather uncharitably. “She only loves the creatures of the meadows and streams, not men of flesh and blood. I could no more marry her than a tree stump.”

Charlotte’s eyes darkened. “That is unkind, William. I remember her being a quiet girl, but not without feeling. She was particularly gentle with frogs and beetles, I recall. And who can blame her when no one else gave her the time of day? We were always off on adventures too rough for her to join in. And when she was old enough, we were away to university or had families of our own. Given the opportunity, I believe all that affection and kindness she showed the little creatures could have been heaped upon a man willing to show it to her in equal measure.”

William gritted his teeth. “I did try. I even gave her a gift. At some expense, I may add. She all but threw it back in my face. I did not see much of that kindness and affection you speak of.”

“Ah. The butterfly.” Charlotte’s mouth drooped. “I know all about that. You gave up very easily, if you don’t mind my saying it. If you are going to take marriage seriously, William dear, you will have to rise above such misunderstandings and pave the way to reconciliation.”

“‘Misunder…’” William spluttered. “‘ Misunderstandings ’? Who told you this? There was no misunderstanding. It was simple. There was a gift, and an outright rejection of the gift. She is too full of sensitivities and delicate feelings. What is there to understand in a gift but thoughtfulness? Yet I received no gratitude, no appreciation of my efforts. I was effectively dismissed. So I withdrew my suit.”

Charlotte said nothing for a moment. Then she turned and walked toward a sideboard in the drawing room, opened one of its inlaid doors, and withdrew a small package. William recognized the suede cloth wrapping at once.

“What is that doing here?” he demanded. “Has Miss Lockhart been to see you? Has she been telling exaggerations about me?”

“No, William,” Charlotte answered calmly. “She sent this for me to give to you whenever you should make your way to our home. And there was a letter with it…”

“For me?”

“Don’t be silly. That would be improper.

She wrote to me . Though the contents were effectively for your attention.

Here. I think you should read it before you say any further unchivalrous things about her.

” She folded back the first layer of the butterfly’s wrapping and revealed an opened letter.

“Go on. Take your time. Meanwhile, I will send for tea, and James can finish his paper.” She firmly led her husband back to his chair and returned his newspaper to him amid the usual brief grumbling before he submitted to her soft insistence. Then she reached for the bell pull.

William saw nothing further. He lowered himself into the nearest seat, placing the discredited gift down on the table.

Miss Lockhart must really have loathed it to make a point of bringing it all the way to Munro to return it.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. She had made no secret of her disgust with it.

And yet, he was surprised. Despite his earlier bluster, he knew he was not blameless. He had departed the vicarage in no better form than that with which Miss Lockhart had received his gift. She likely wanted no reminder of it or him. And yet…

She was not malicious by nature. Or resentful.

She had taken his half-hearted attempt to woo her in her stride, even offering empathy and the beginnings of friendship.

She had not encouraged him, but she had never been silly or cruel.

Which was why her excessive response at their last meeting had caught him completely off guard.

It was not like her to rub salt in the wound by going to such lengths to return the butterfly.

If anything, she was probably as keen to forget the whole ordeal as he was.

Then why was he staring at that same discarded gift now, here in his sister’s home in Munro?

The letter!

William quickly peeled away the outer covering of the parcel and lifted the pages to his gaze. They were already partly unfolded. He straightened them further and began to read.

There were the usual greetings. A little catching up on family news. Congratulations to Charlotte and James on the birth of their daughter.

Ah, here it was…

I come now to a matter that is, unfortunately, less conversational. It has been weighing heavily on my mind. I regret having to burden you with the task of messenger, but it would be wholly inappropriate for me to contact your brother directly, as you understand all too well, I’m sure.

I shall come straight to the point. During one of his visits to the vicarage, Mr. Cole very kindly brought me a gift.

No doubt he put a great deal of thought into it, which was a gift in and of itself.

He had also been careful that it not be construed as a romantic gesture, since I had been clear on my feelings regarding marriage.

William stopped reading.

Miss Lockhart could have assumed he would be given the opportunity to read the letter eventually.

But she was not only addressing him. His sister was the intended recipient of the letter.

Its contents could thus be shared with whomever Charlotte saw fit.

And Charlotte would want to share anything that benefitted her family.

In these few sentences, worded with such care, Miss Lockhart had gone to some lengths to protect his reputation.

As a failed suitor. As a gift-giver. As a man.

She was answering any doubts his family might have had regarding his behavior toward her.

She had not apologized, though he sensed she was working her way up toward the very thing.

But she was doing something even more important. She was defending his character.

William was numb with shock. No one had ever done that for him.

Oh, he had been admired aplenty. But that was for his charm and wit and good looks.

He had never before had his character praised.

To the contrary. Indeed, the worst blow had come from Ellena, for whom he would have been the best man it was in his power to be.

She had called his judgment into question, denouncing him as selfish, when all he had done was try to protect her.