Love on Assignment (33 page)

T
he next afternoon, Daniel and his mother hosted a luncheon for the Grails and several friends. Chef Jacques outdid himself with his French specialties, but Daniel had no appetite for rich cream sauces. Later, after most of the guests departed, Jack took him aside. “Shall we talk a little business?”

Mrs. Wilmont and Mr. McClintock led Lilly into the drawing room while Daniel and Jack adjourned to the library. They puffed cigars and settled in wing chairs by a crackling fire that burned off the chill.

Jack leaned forward. “Have you considered my offer to write a column for the
Manhattan Sentinel
?”

“Yes, and I accept gladly.” Daniel explained President Ralston's ultimatum and his own answer. “So far I haven't heard from any of the colleges or boys' schools I've contacted, and since I'm so late applying, I'm not optimistic.”

Jack took a puff on his cigar. “Would you be interested in working for me in New York? We have positions open on either the newspaper or magazine. Or would you prefer the publishing house? All three are doing well, I'm pleased to say. I'm in dire need of management and editorial help.”

Jack mentioned a salary that Daniel thought more than generous, certainly larger than he required to support his family and servants. How could he turn down Jack's offer? “I certainly do appreciate your kindness.”

“But—”

“I'm a teacher. I have no experience in publishing.”

Jack dismissed Daniel's doubts with a wave of his cigar. “You'll learn quickly.”

“Then I accept. And thank you.” Daniel nodded with as much enthusiasm as he could rally. Relief mixed with regret.

“You can begin at Jones and Jarman, my publishing house, if that appeals to you. When can you start?”

“In a few weeks, as soon as the semester ends. I'm really grateful for the opportunity, yet I'm afraid no one in the family wishes to move.”

“I understand why they'd rather stay in Newport.” Jack sent him a sympathetic nod. “It's a beautiful place, though rather dreary in winter, I hear.”

Daniel drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair and blew out a sigh. “That's true, but this has been our home for several years, so it's difficult to leave.” Daniel hoped he didn't sound as grim as he felt.

He'd prayed—actually stormed heaven—that a position would turn up locally. But perhaps moving away was God's answer to his problem. A crucial question remained—could he convince Charlotte to come along, not as a governess, but as his wife? They'd simply have to find a way to care for her aunt and sister from afar.

After Jack and Lilly left, Daniel gathered his family, Mr. McClintock, and Charlotte into the drawing room. As he scrutinized all the anxious faces, his spirits sank.

Hands clasped behind his back, he paced between the long windows framed with velvet curtains, then halted. “I have news about our future. I've accepted a position at Jackson Grail's publishing house in New York. Unfortunately, we'll have to move to the city.”

His mother's soft groan and Charlotte's sudden intake of breath made him pause. He scrutinized each unhappy face. “I'm so sorry, but I have no other choice. We'd all like to stay in Newport, myself included. But I'm afraid that's not feasible. So let's make the best of it and not complain—at least not too loudly or too long.” His halfhearted stab at optimism fell flat, even to his own ears.

Glancing toward Charlotte, he noticed her normally rosy complexion had faded to white. “I hope you'll come with us. We need you.” With perspiration coating his neck and face, he waited for her reply to break his heart.

“Of course I'd like to stay with you.” Charlotte's voice cracked as she gazed down at her clutched hands and avoided eye contact. If she cried, he knew he'd fall apart as well. But she steadied and said, “But I can't. My aunt and my sister need me here.”

“May I have a word with you—alone?” Daniel asked, heading for the hallway and ignoring his mother's
harrumph
. Even Mr. McClintock looked troubled as he reached for Vivian's hand.

Daniel heard Charlotte's footsteps as he strode down the hallway, passed through the foyer and down another hallway to the back veranda. Together they walked across the grass and out of his mother's hearing range. Charlotte hung her head and hugged her chest against the damp air. A chilly breeze wracked him with shivers as well.

Stopping by the rocks at the edge of the sea, Daniel turned to face her. He gently lifted her chin so her troubled eyes met his own. Beneath the fading afternoon sunlight, her cheeks glimmered with tears.

“Please come with us, Charlotte. I understand why you feel you should stay in Newport, but instead, perhaps you could send your family money. And of course you'd visit often. New York isn't really so far away.”

She shook her head and her upswept hair loosened, freeing strands of dark silk. “It's more than just supporting Aunt Amelia and Becky. Please. I'll tell you what is holding me back . . . later.”

“Tell me now,” he said lowly.

“Papa!” Tim came tearing around the corner. “Why do we have to move, Papa? I want to stay here.”

Charlotte gave Daniel a long look. “Later,” she repeated in a whisper. And then she walked away.

THAT EVENING AT seven o'clock Charlotte slipped off to her bedroom, her every nerve on edge. She searched her wardrobe for something appropriate to wear to the Coastal Inn with Daniel. She'd accepted his invitation to dine so she'd have enough privacy to confess. No one had ever invited her to a fancy dinner, so she owned nothing suitable, though funereal black might be best considering the reason she'd accepted Daniel's invitation. Charlotte sighed, wishing the whole ordeal was over and she was safely back home with Becky and Aunt Amelia.

Well, appropriate or not, she refused to wear black, for she was neither a real servant nor an elegant lady. She put on her new cream-colored blouse and peered at her reflection in the mirror above her bureau. Her aunt's lovely creation complemented her ecru skirt, her one and only dressy garment. At least she wouldn't appear shabby and cause the other diners to stare.

A knock on the door startled her. “Charlotte, it's me. Grace. Please let me in. I only have a minute.”

Charlotte opened the door and Grace burst into the room.

“Oh my, don't you look grand. But that old straw hat of yours won't do. Wait here and I'll fetch my new one. I bought it at the milliners at the end of the season last year.”

She rushed out and quickly returned with a flowered hat with pale blue chiffon swirling around the crown. Positioning it on Charlotte's head, Grace examined it with a critical eye. “Perfect.”

“Thank you so much.” Charlotte gazed in the mirror, surprised at a reflection she hardly recognized. “I actually feel pretty.” Which was not the impression she ought to convey to Daniel. She should look presentable, not fancy or too feminine.

“The entire staff knows you're going to dinner with the professor. They're all abuzz.”

Charlotte winced as she pulled on her gloves. “News travels fast around Summerhill.”

“Indeed, it does. One of the parlor maids overheard the professor arguing with his mother over it. But don't let Mrs. Wilmont ruin your evening. Enjoy yourself, Charlotte. Do tell me all about it when you come home.”

Charlotte dropped onto her bed and let a groan escape from her lips. “I'm going to confess something important to the professor tonight. I can't talk here very freely with so many prying eyes and ears.”

Grace looked at her with obvious curiosity, but she didn't ask any questions. “I'll pray everything will work out.” Grace touched Charlotte's hands and squeezed tight.

“Thank you. I'll explain the entire story when I return. I'd best go now.”

TAKING A DEEP breath, Charlotte descended the front staircase and met Daniel in the foyer. Dressed in a starched white shirt with black tie and coat, he carried a silk top hat. His blue-green eyes were lit with an inner warmth that for a moment stole her breath along with her resolve. How could she hurt this wonderful man? Together they stepped outside into the glow of early evening. The carriage and coachman awaited them. Charlotte's hands perspired in her gloves as she clutched the strings of her reticule. “It's a grand evening,” she rasped in an unsteady voice. Birds chirped in the gently swaying branches, waves broke against the rocks, a breeze hummed.

His eyes sparkled as he surveyed her outfit, and then a small smile broadened into a wide grin. “You look lovely.”

Her cheeks flamed. “Thank you.” She tried to steel herself against his compliment.

He took her by the arm and helped her down the veranda steps and into the carriage.

Ruthie and Tim appeared from around the bushes. “Enjoy your dinner.” Ruthie giggled.

Charlotte and Daniel waved to his children. He leaned toward her and murmured, “I'm afraid my children are getting carried away. When I told Tim we were having dinner together, he snickered. But Ruthie jumped up and down and clapped.”

Charlotte smiled. She tried to stay calm, but her nerves were prickling like porcupine quills. She'd never been to a swanky dinner with a man before. She wished he'd chosen a more informal spot where he wouldn't be recognized and where she'd feel more comfortable in her pretty but inexpensive clothing. Her mind kept straying from her upcoming task—to tell Daniel the truth. All she could think about was his arm brushing against hers and his soft voice so close to her ear. He looked cool and composed except for a trickle of moisture that formed a liquid mustache over his upper lip. He understood an employer simply didn't dine in public with his servant, but she respected him for defying snobbery. He seemed to be handling this awkward situation with great aplomb.

They kept up a steady stream of small talk until they reached the Coastal Inn, a white clapboard hotel and restaurant set behind tall hedges and shaded by towering maples. The back lawn faced the Cliff Walk and the sea. As they neared the front porch lined with a profusion of shrubs and blue hydrangeas, Charlotte's heart fluttered.

Once inside the dining room, the waiter led them to a table overlooking the back lawn bathed in gathering shadows. As she and Daniel lowered onto gilded chairs, Charlotte heard the steady hum of the cultured voices punctuated by the crackle of a fire in the fireplace. If only she could enjoy the ambiance of dancing candlelight and crystal chandeliers. Jeweled women in silks and satins might make her feel out of place ordinarily, but tonight she scarcely noticed. Instead, she focused on the man she was soon to hurt.

They ordered lobster Thermidor and other delicacies, but food didn't appeal to her. The first bites thudded to the pit of her stomach. Putting down her fork, Charlotte tried to quiet her fear. She needed to say what was on her mind and get it over with. But before she could push out even one word, Daniel leaned across the white linen tablecloth and spoke in a deliberate way that captured her attention.

“I—we—have something important to discuss.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own.

She let his hand rest on hers for the few moments it took to compose herself. Slipping her fingers out from under his warm, gentle touch, she half smiled. “I believe you know several people in this dining room. If they see us holding hands, they might misconstrue our relationship.”

His eyes lost their light for a second. “What others think doesn't matter to me. Charlotte, we haven't known each other long, but during that time we've become friends. Close friends, I hope.”

“Yes, of course we're friends.”

“What I'm trying to say is, how do you feel about—committing to . . . Well, the truth is I've fallen hopelessly in love with you.” He reached in his pocket and produced a velvet jewelry box. “Charlotte Hale, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Her body froze. Daniel stared with hope gleaming in his eyes. She raised her palms to stop the flow of words before tears began to stream down her face. “I'm overcome. I didn't expect you to propose! I—I'm truly honored.” She took a deep breath and glanced around, wondering if anyone was looking at them. “But we mustn't speak of marriage until I tell you something that I'm afraid will change your mind.”

“What is it?” The black box lay open on the white linen tablecloth beside his plate, the diamond gleaming in the soft candlelight.

“As I've said before, I haven't been entirely truthful with you, Daniel.” Charlotte took a deep breath. “I came to Summerhill to—”

His held up a gentle hand, stopping her. “Charlotte, I don't want to know. I told you before what you did in the past isn't important to me. You regret your mistakes and God forgives them. There's no need to dwell on them or reveal the details. If God has forgiven you, who am I to hold anything against you?” He shrugged and shook his head. “Don't you see? It's done. Gone. Over.”

Charlotte looked away, afraid if their gazes locked she'd cry out with relief. He was such a kind man and she didn't deserve him, not by any stretch of the imagination. He accepted her unconditionally.

“No. I must tell you because—I've sinned against
you
. And you have a right to know what I did.”

Daniel shook his head. “But I don't want to.”

“Are you sure?” her voice squeaked. He'd handed her a reprieve. Should she take it? Confession would surely relieve her conscience, but it would wound him deeply. Indecision gripped her mind. He was giving her an escape, but was it too easy? “How can you be so certain?”

“You can stop looking at me as if I am perfect. Far from it. If I were brave I'd ask for the particulars and let you clear your conscience. But Charlotte, I'm afraid it could gnaw at me, get in the way of . . .
us
.”

He leaned closer. “Please let me explain.” His face drooped with a look of despair. “My wife Sarah had an affair with one of my friends while we were attempting to salvage our marriage. I never suspected. I believed we were making progress and we'd gradually fall in love all over again.” He tapped his finger against the tablecloth. “But then she was killed in a coaching accident with that same friend. Soon after, I found her journal and began to read it.”