Gentleman of Her Dreams (8 page)

Maybe she should simply admit defeat and embrace the idea of remaining a spinster forever.

A spinster enjoyed freedom once she reached a certain age, although she could experience a different type of freedom if . . .

No, she was not going to think in that direction.

“Are you all right?”

She’d forgotten Henry was still standing by her side.

“I’m fine, but I really should take my seat.”

“I hate to tell you this, Charlotte, but that older woman just snatched up your place card, and . . . she’s heading this way.”

Charlotte’s temper disappeared as the woman in question stopped by her side and sent her a grin that had mischief written all over it.

“Forgive me, dear,” the woman said. “I realize we’ve never met before, but I was hoping you would do me just the teensiest favor. I’m Mrs. Dickerson, and I’ve been told you’re Miss Wilson, and you see, ah, one of your dinner companions, Mr. Wallace Perry, was once very dear to me. We were the best of friends, and I always believed we would eventually marry, but alas, that was not to be. We both found different spouses, but my John passed over five years ago and his Estelle passed two years ago, and I just thought that maybe . . . Well, we’re not getting any younger, don’t you know?”

“The two of you were friends in your youth?” Henry asked.

“The best of friends,” Mrs. Dickerson said. “I think that’s what caused all the confusion in the first place.” She smiled a sad sort of smile. “I loved him, you see, but thought he didn’t return my affections. His sister recently admitted to me that she’d always believed I’d been the love of his life.”

Charlotte felt tears sting her eyes. The story sounded all too familiar. She blinked to keep the tears at bay and nodded. “Of course you may take my place, Mrs. Dickerson, and I wish you the best of luck. May I ask where your old seat is located?”

“Ah, but of course, my dear, forgive me for not addressing that sooner. I was placed next to a Mr. Jeffrey Murdock, and I must tell you,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “he was the one who pointed you out and told me who you were sitting beside, which, quite honestly, led me to believe the gentleman has an interest, if you get my meaning?”

Charlotte watched as Henry’s expression went from relaxed to stormy, but before she could comment on it, Mrs. Dickerson suddenly thrust the place card into Charlotte’s hand, muttered something about Mrs. Watson, and then bustled away from them as fast as her high-heeled shoes would allow.

Charlotte soon understood why Mrs. Dickerson had made such an abrupt departure when she turned her head and found Mrs. Watson glaring back at her.

“Miss Wilson, I’m shocked. What could have possibly possessed you to rearrange my seating chart?”

Although it was tempting to place the blame on Mrs. Dickerson, Charlotte had never been one to tattle, so she took a breath and was about to deliver what she hoped was a reasonable response when Henry suddenly stepped forward and interrupted her.

“It’s my doing, Mrs. Watson, and I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

They were back to him coming to her rescue.

Enough was enough. She was officially relegating herself to spinsterhood because she certainly didn’t understand men.

“But, Mr. St. James, I don’t understand,” Mrs. Watson said. “Are you insinuating that you wanted to sit next to Miss Wilson? I was under the impression the two of you were just friends, but if that is not the case, by all means, let me help you . . .” her voice trailed off as a loud crash sounded from the other side of the room.

“Oh . . . no,” Mrs. Watson muttered before she hurried away without another word, the subject of the seating chart apparently forgotten.

“What happened?” Charlotte asked.

“I don’t know, I can’t see from here,” Henry said as he took her hand and pulled her forward.

She loved holding hands with him.

She decided to enjoy the moment, realizing that it would all too quickly come to an end, because she couldn’t go on like this anymore. She had to resolve matters, and if resolving matters meant running away to the county, so be it. She wasn’t ashamed to run, especially if it meant leaving her dignity intact. If she had to say goodbye to Henry face to face, well, she knew she’d dissolve into hysterics, not that she was normally a hysterical type of lady, but there it was.

“Can you see anything?” she asked to distract herself from her thoughts.

Henry pulled her up beside him and smiled. “I think Mr. Hamilton Beckett’s in the midst of some new crisis.”

Charlotte craned her neck to see past a tall gentleman. Sure enough, Hamilton was leaning over a . . . good heavens . . . Agatha really did owe their governess if the woman now being helped into a chair was Miss Eliza Sumner. She was wearing a dress of unthinkable puce, sporting large glasses that were perched on the very bottom of her nose, and . . . well wasn’t this interesting?

Mr. Beckett was giving her his undivided attention and . . . he was laughing.

She’d never seen him laugh.

“Good heavens, I’ve been an idiot,” she muttered. “Mr. Beckett was never meant for me. I’d bet my bicycle he’s meant for that lady who Agatha told me is the governess.”

Before she could utter another word, Henry took a firm hold of her arm and began propelling her forward, but not to her seat. He steered her through the dining room, down the hallway, and out the door leading to the patio. Instead of stopping, he continued forward, increasing his pace with every step.

She tried to ask where they were going, but Henry was now moving at almost a run, and it took all of her concentration to keep up with him, having no desire to be dragged at his side.

Her foot slid out of her shoe, but Henry didn’t seem to notice the fact she was now hobbling along beside him. A sharp stone caused her to wince and open her mouth.

“My shoe,” she managed to get out.

Henry came to an abrupt halt, causing her to run into him. “What did you say?”

“I lost my shoe. It’s back there.”

“Why didn’t you say so? Honestly, Charlotte, you could have injured your foot.”

Henry dropped her arm, strode to where her shoe rested on the walk, and then returned to her side, dropping down on one knee before grabbing her foot and shoving her shoe onto it.

It would have been almost romantic if he hadn’t taken that moment to look up at her and scowl.

What could she have possibly done wrong now?

Henry rose to his feet, took her by the arm, and prodded her into moving by not giving her another choice. He pulled her past the parked carriages until they reached a lovely garden on the side of the house, but before she could admire it, he yanked her further down the path until he came to a stop in another garden, this one lit by hundreds of lanterns. Tears suddenly began to blind her.

It was the perfect rendezvous spot for people in love.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he declared.

Charlotte blinked. Maybe she and Henry had finally reached the point where they could read minds, because she’d recently been thinking the exact same thing.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I tried, I really did, but it’s no use. I’ve withheld my true feelings from you for years, and I know you don’t think of me as anything other than a friend, but that’s too bad. Tonight showed me that I have to be honest. There I was, surrounded by some of the most beautiful women in New York, and do you know what I was thinking?”

“That they were beautiful?” Charlotte asked.

“No,” Henry said with a roll of his eyes. “I was only thinking about you, wondering what mischief you were getting into and why it was taking you so long to check your appearance. I was just about to come after you when you waltzed out into the receiving room, and what did you do? Not come to find me, no, that’s not what you did. You turned into a flirt and attracted the attention of every gentleman in your vicinity.”

Confusion settled over her. “But . . . you were pushing me at Mr. Beckett.”

“Because you’d gotten it into your head that God wanted you to marry the man, and who was I to argue with God?”

“If you didn’t hear me a few minutes ago, I’ve decided Mr. Beckett isn’t meant for me, he never was,” Charlotte admitted.

Henry’s expression turned rather fierce. “Have you set your sights on someone new? Has God sent you a direct telegram filled with ideas for another plan?”

“Well, no, not a telegram, but maybe you should continue on with what you were saying,” Charlotte said as the most delicious idea came to her, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up until Henry finished what he had to say.

Henry looked at her for a long moment and then cleared his throat. “We’ve been friends for a long time, Charlotte.”

Oh, dear, it was not going to be what she wanted to hear. She forced the disappointment away and lifted her chin. “You’ve been my best friend since I was four.”

Henry muttered something under his breath and then reached out to tip her chin even higher as he caught her gaze. “I want to be more than your friend.”

Right there and then, Charlotte’s knees turned wobbly. “But . . . you left me, left me for almost two years.”

“Self-preservation,” Henry said with a nod. “I couldn’t stand watching you flit from one gentleman to another or dance with partners more than once when you only reserved a single dance per evening with me.”

“Because you never let me believe you cared for more,” Charlotte said, unable to help the temper that was suddenly rushing through her veins. “Why didn’t you ask me for more?”

“Because I didn’t know you wanted more. I thought you saw me as only your friend.”

“That’s what I thought you saw me as, only a friend,” Charlotte replied. “How could you have been so dim?”

“I was dim? What about you? You never once gave me reason to believe you saw me as something more, and then . . . there was the sigh.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Are you talking about the sigh I released the very last time we danced together?”

“Of course, that’s what caused me to leave. I couldn’t continue on with being an obligation to you.”

“You thought I sighed because I didn’t care to dance with you?”

“Didn’t you?”

It was fortunate she loved him because he really was an idiot.

“I sighed because I always looked forward to our dance every evening, and I was happy you’d finally come to claim it,” she admitted.

“Oh.”

She drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. It really appeared as if he hadn’t known she’d cared about him. “Didn’t you read my letters?”

Henry frowned. “Of course, numerous times, and quite frankly, I did think you sounded a bit melancholy and missed me, but then I returned to town, and the first thing you did was present me with your plan of winning over Mr. Beckett.”

“You agreed to help me.”

“Only because you forced me to help you, and only because I was afraid you’d get yourself into trouble if I wasn’t around.”

Lovely warmth spread over her. “You always have watched out for me.”

Henry stared at her and then shook his head. “We’re just like poor Mrs. Dickerson and her long-lost love.”

Charlotte grinned. “Except that we haven’t wasted quite as many years not admitting the truth to one another.”

Henry moved closer to her, his gaze locked on hers. “I love you.”

Her soul began to sing.

She drew in a deep breath, blinked to keep fresh tears at bay, and edged even closer to him. “I am so relieved to finally hear you say that because I love you too and will never love anyone else. I was seriously considering remaining a spinster forever if I couldn’t have you.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that any longer,” Henry said before he shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small box.

Charlotte could only watch in mute amazement as Henry dropped to one knee, opened the box, and extended it to her. “This ring, I’ve been told, belonged to a real princess. This princess was independent and a bit strong willed from the sound of things. The gypsy who sold it to me told me the ring could only go to a lady possessed of an adventurous spirit, and I can think of no other lady who is more worthy of accepting it than you, unless of course, you have no desire to marry me.”

Charlotte blinked back another bout of tears, her eyes never leaving Henry’s face. “Will you take me with you when you captain your boat?”

“I wouldn’t consider leaving you behind. I know this might sound a little like a plea to accept my proposal, but I can show you worlds you’ve never imagined, and there are millions of adventures just waiting for us out there.”

“I would marry you even if there were
no
adventures waiting for us because life by your side is the only adventure I need.”

Henry was off his knee so quickly she barely had time to draw a breath. His ring slid over her finger and then his lips pressed against hers.

As she felt his love wash over her, she knew without a doubt that God had given her exactly what she’d requested.

He’d given her the gentleman of her dreams.

The End