Page 96 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
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Charlotte wiped her mouth with the napkin and gave a deep sigh. Between the relief of being out of jail and a warm bath, clean clothes, and a real meal, all she wanted to do was crawl under the covers and sleep for days. But she would not. She had a lot to say, and Mr. Baker would not be happy to hear it.
He placed his coffee cup in the saucer and wiped his mouth. “Uh oh, I don’t care for the look in your eye.”
“Before I start, I want you to know I appreciate you doing whatever it was you did to get the charges dropped and me out of jail.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “That is the last nice thing you will hear from me.”
Elliot hopped up and shoved his fingers into his hair, fisting his hand as if attempting to yank himself bald. “There are simply no words to tell you how very sorry I am for what I did, or rather, what I did not do.”
She snorted.
“No matter how many different words of apology run through my mind, nothing can possibly convey the anger, disappointment, or the guilt that I feel for the way I treated you.”
She turned her head, her arms still crossed, her body stiff with anger. Everything she had intended to say once they had left the jail had dissipated with her tears. Although her weeping had been cathartic after weeks of anxiety due to the bizarre packages, the close brush with death at Miss Garvey’s hands, her arrest, Lord Barton, the time in the jail, but mostly, Elliot’s betrayal, there remained one thing she still needed to say. She turned back and looked him straight in the eye.
“You broke my heart.” Her eyes welled up again, and she realized she was simply not ready to go forward with their relationship.
His stricken look brought some satisfaction, but her hurt was too deep, and too raw, to think it would be washed away with an apology and a few humbling words.
“I know I broke your heart.” He shook his head and raised his arms. “If you give me the chance, I will spend the rest of my life proving my love to you.”
“I’m afraid I simply cannot do that.” She stood and walked away from the makeshift table. She needed to put space between them.
Thankfully, he kept his distance. “I will never, ever doubt you again.”
“Until the next time.”
“There will be no next time. I love you, I trust you, and I will defend you until the day I die.”
“I wish I could believe that, but I have found placing my trust—and in the case of marriage, my very life—in a man’s hands does not bode well for me.”
She rubbed her forehead with her thumb and index finger. Relief at her release, and decent food had made her extremely fatigued. “I would like to sleep now.”
He nodded. “As you wish.” He glanced around the room. “I will sleep in the chair.”
“Yes, you will.” She climbed into the bed, rolled toward the wall so she would not have to look at him, and fell into instant slumber.
. . .
The next morning, Elliot groaned as he awakened stiff as a board. At first, he couldn’t understand why he was curled up in a chair. Then it all came back to him. Charlotte’s release from jail. Her refusal to accept his apology.
They would take the train back to London today, and he fully intended to take whatever measures he needed to convince Charlotte that his heart and loyalty were true.
He eased up, rotating his neck and working his stiffened shoulders. He was getting too old to be sleeping in chairs. A glance across the room told him Charlotte was still asleep. He studied her for a minute, moving closer to the bed.
All the agony and pain he’d seen on her face the day before had been wiped clean in slumber. She looked about ten years younger, her cheeks a soft red from sleep. Her lengthy eyelashes rested on her cheeks, the furrow in her brow erased. Soft golden curls had escaped from her braid, to surround her face like a halo.
God, he loved her so much. If he couldn’t convince her to allow him back into her life, he would never recover.
As he watched her, her lashes fluttered and then opened.
She gave him a warm smile, then scowled. “I’d much rather see that smile again.”
She shifted on the bed, sitting up against the headboard, hugging the blanket to her. “What time will we leave for London?”
“There is a train at ten this morning.”
She nodded, and he took the chance to sit on the bed next to her. He reached out and tucked one of those tempting curls behind her ear. “Did you sleep well?”
