Charlotte leaned her head on Alexander's chest as she watched the last of the dust fall behind the wheels of Declan and Alison's carriage. Augusta was on the other side of her with her arm around her waist, and next to Alexander, Samuel held Leonora in his arms.
They were linked as a family, and also joined in their sadness at so many goodbyes, though each in their own way tried to be grateful for all the heartwarming times they had shared in the last four days.
Blinking back tears, Charlotte wondered how it could possibly be only four days – such a short amount of time since the wedding celebrations began. She knew she was the same person, but as she gazed up at Alexander, she understood that rivers had been crossed in her life that would never be uncrossed, and she was irrevocably altered in the best way possible.
Charlotte remembered having birthdays when she was younger and waking up in the morning expecting to feel emotionally and even physically older, as if in the night she might have grown a full inch to match the alteration in her age. She soon realized that the change was imperceptible, and that life was simply a steady climb upward, with markers along the way.
But on this day, as the transition was made from ceremony and celebration to day-to-day life, Charlotte did feel altered, as if her features may have changed from those of a girl to those of a woman over the course of the last four days. She closed her eyes and breathed it in, and she smiled.
As her family of birth and girlhood drove away one by one, she still stood here with her new family – her family of choice. This was the way of all things, the path of life, and she felt her feet firmly and squarely on that path, standing with Alexander, Augusta and Leonora.
"They will be back soon," Alexander said softly, kissing the top of Charlotte's head. His arm reached around and squeezed Augusta's shoulder, knowing that her tears were a result of having hugged Drew for the last time in a long while.
Alexander would miss them all, but he exhaled in deep gratitude that all those he truly needed were right here with him.
"Come inside, and I will give you a good breakfast to ease your hearts," Mrs. Wheatley said from the top stair. She raised her chin stoically, knowing that it would pain her to walk back into her kitchen and Ruth Heywood would not be there for conversation and laughter. Eva had made a friend, and it had been a long while since she had done that. As they had hugged their goodbyes, Ruth had renewed her invitation to Eva to visit Willingden, and as Eva had not stepped outside of Sanditon since the day she was brought here as a very young woman, the prospect was daunting. But the idea was growing on her.
With a sigh, Alexander, Charlotte, Samuel and the girls turned to walk back up the steps and follow Mrs. Wheatley inside. They took solace in knowing that they would have guests for dinner to mitigate the emptiness of the great house – Arthur would be bringing Marie after their rehearsals were finished for the day, and to everyone's wonder, Georgiana had asked if she could bring Charles Lockhart.
Charles had signed all the necessary papers and had made a statement with Samuel that had been notarized and given the seal of approval from the London courts, so there was no turning back on his promise to Georgiana. Her fortune was now absolutely out of his hands, and should she turn him away, he would travel back to Paris with only what he had when he arrived – the small amount of money still in his bank account and the clothes he had brought with him.
Georgiana was aware that he had given up everything for her, but she was not prepared to welcome him into her life without inflicting on him at least a portion of the suffering she had endured. This process was somewhat complicated by the fact that she did love him so dearly, and he made her laugh as no one else ever had. She looked forward to each day dawning with him in it and it was difficult not to simply accept his repeated and sincere apologies.
Charlotte had not seen them together yet, and she had to admit her curiosity was heightened for their dinner tonight. She had heard Georgiana's side of the story, but she would hold back her opinion until she verified Mr. Lockhart's contrition herself.
Charlotte and Alexander stepped into the foyer and the wedding flowers were still in place. Each day the housemaids had refreshed them, and would continue doing so until all the flowers from the upstairs rooms had been brought down, and those past their prime of beauty had been removed. The cornflowers, being by definition a weed as they grew wild in that fashion in cornfields across England, were lasting longer than most of the flowers, so as the days went by, the arrangements became more blue.
Alexander plucked one from the vase on the foyer table and tucked it into Charlotte's hair as the girls and Samuel went to help Eva with breakfast. He ran his thumb across her cheek and took an involuntary breath, thinking there would never be a day as long as he lived that he would not be in awe that she was standing by his side.
He bent to place his lips on her neck, which caused her to put her arms around him and close her eyes. "I am aware that this has been a very busy time," he said softly between kisses, "But I must say I am surprised that you have not mentioned the alteration I made to this room before your family arrived."
Charlotte opened her eyes and frowned slightly, looking behind Alexander at the front door. She released him and turned a slow, thorough circle of the foyer, studying each wall panel and door, and then she stopped suddenly.
Lucy Colbourne's portrait was gone. In its place was a scene she loved, a painting of the view from the back garden, with horses grazing peacefully and the wind blowing softly in the trees.
Charlotte took a deep breath. "How could I not have noticed?" she said in wonder.
Alexander stood behind her as they both gazed at the painting. His arms came around her waist and she held his hands tightly in front of her. "You have had a great deal on your mind. And often the absence of something is more difficult to notice than its presence," he said softly. "It was long past time for it to be moved. In all honesty, I hardly saw it anymore, and I originally put it there for Leonora. Before your family arrived, I talked with her about it."
"What did she say?" Charlotte asked.
Alexander smiled. "She said that she did not remember Lucy at all, and that she would much prefer there was a painting of you in its place." He snuggled into her hair, breathing in the scent of it. "Shall I commission one from Mr. Lockhart this evening?"
Charlotte turned and raised an eyebrow. "You would be so quick to forgive him?"
Alexander shrugged. "I do not know the man, and I should not like to be defending him without that first-hand knowledge, but from what I have heard from all concerned – he took on the original pursuit of Lawrence Lambe's fortune without having set eyes on Georgiana and under the auspices of some rather greedy solicitors who hoped to benefit. Samuel is well-acquainted with their tactics and has learned that the idea was brought to Mr. Lockhart rather than the other way round."
Frowning, Charlotte said, "Does Georgiana know that?"
Alexander nodded, "Yes, the three of them have discussed the sequence of events at length, and Samuel's perceptions have been a large part of the reason Georgiana has accepted any part of Lockhart's apology. Presently, her reluctance has to do with the fact that he was dishonest with her from the moment he arrived in Sanditon."
Charlotte nodded. "A very real concern, do you not agree?"
"Oh, without doubt. Though according to Samuel, Lockhart has never pretended that he was anything more than a scoundrel before meeting Georgiana. His position is that he is now a changed man under her influence and in the light of his having fallen in love with her."
"And do you believe that is possible?" Charlotte said, raising her eyebrow with a slight smile.
Alexander returned her smile and pulled her to him tightly. "I believe you know the answer to that question," he said, his lips on hers. "I hardly recognize myself since the day you walked through this door…"
Charlotte affected a frown and lowered her voice, speaking in clipped tones. "Miss Heywood, forgive me, I must have been unclear. I thought I engaged you to make a young LADY of Leonora…"
Laughing, Alexander pulled away and said, "Ah, you would taunt me with my former self, would you?"
Charlotte laughed too. "On the contrary, that may have been the moment I fell fully in love with you. The way you said the word malacologists was positively irresistible. And trolling ponds for mollusks… such a sweet-talker you were, Mr. Colbourne…" Charlotte pulled away from him and backed down the hallway toward the kitchen and then turned and started running, laughing.
"You will pay for teasing me, Mrs. Colbourne…" he said. "After breakfast. I am too hungry to retaliate at present…" Alexander followed her down the hallway knowing he could never catch her before they were surrounded by the rest of the family. He laughed softly, "But you will pay…"
Sarah Kingsley looked out at the deep blue of the ocean and narrowed her eyes. She was trying to determine her exact age, and it was proving more complicated than she thought it might be. Lawrence had shown her the Bill of Sale he had taken from Jonathan Colbourne's office before they sailed from England, but she knew that was wrong. She had not come into this world in the summer. Her own mother had told her that she was born in the winter months, because she had been grateful for the cooler nights as she had grown in size with her pregnancy.
She did know the year of her birth, however, and that would make her forty-six years of age. Georgiana had been born in March of 1799, when she was twenty-four. This year, on Georgiana's twenty-first birthday, Sarah had lit a candle and had taken it out to the sand, where she had stared at it for a long time, praying for her sweet girl and hoping that her life was all that she wanted it to be.
Her daughter would be forever frozen at the age of fourteen to Sarah, as that was how old she was when she had kissed her goodnight and walked out of her life, stumbling through tears that had not abated for long months afterward. She had left not only her daughter, but also Lawrence and the existence that had become so precious to her that she could hardly believe she'd had the courage to depart from it.
It had not always been easy to watch Georgiana grow without telling her of their relationship. But from the moment she had looked into her eyes, a squalling newborn with skin the color of light chocolate, Sarah had been so deeply in love that she knew she would do anything to keep her safe. Sarah understood that from the start a mulatto child had its feet in both worlds, with full acceptance in neither – and that the more Georgiana connected to Lawrence's roots, adopting his aristocratic accent and understanding the ways of the British, the better it would be for her. So Sarah, with her Caribbean inflections and island habits, had stepped back into the role of housekeeper while watching, protecting, and loving her little girl from a distance.
Until the day she had been outside hanging laundry and had been approached by an Army Captain in uniform. She had been immediately on her guard, not only because of his attire, which was alarming enough, but also due to his salacious way of speaking, intimidating in its superiority and underlying menace. When she had backed away to find Lawrence, the soldier had stopped her, asking if she knew exactly where her daughter was.
Sarah had been instantly rooted to the spot. How could he know? Her blood had run cold as she listened, and when he said the name Jonathan Colbourne, she thought her heart would beat right out of her chest.
He said he needed money as he had suffered a run of bad luck at the tables which left him owing some people in high places in Antigua, and he thought the cane plantation must be doing quite well. He told her he was to be back on a ship that night to England, and if he was unable to pay his debts, he might be able to drown his sorrows with a beautiful young girl like Georgiana to accompany him and offer him some pleasures on the long journey.
When he returned and Sarah had determined that Georgiana was safe in her room, she had given him what she found in Lawrence's cash box and the soldier had left. She followed him to the harbor and watched him board the ship and sail away, but Sarah's world was forever shattered. In her mind, as long as Georgiana's paternity was in question, her daughter would be in danger. So that night, Sarah had packed her things and left her beloved girl in the care of the only man she had ever loved, and she had disappeared. She knew that Georgiana's dark skin would always brand her, but at least there would be no trail that would lead back to the unspeakable nights spent in Jonathan Colbourne's drunken company. Lawrence Lambe would always be Georgiana's father.
Sarah sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes. She knew that Lawrence must have been devastated, and must have felt betrayed by her disappearance and the evidence of a large sum of missing money. Georgiana had already been told that her mother died in childbirth, so she would likely only mark the missing housekeeper in passing and then move on to other fourteen-year-old thoughts. Sarah had erased herself from their lives, but she knew she had left her heart behind on Antigua.
And then, just last year, another visitor. A rich Englishman who had appeared at her door on the island of St. John. A Mr. Sidney Parker, with the sad news of Lawrence's death – and also the revelation that the entire story had been shared with him and that Georgiana was now under his protection in Sanditon. This visit could not have been more different than that of the Army Captain – Mr. Parker wanted only what was best for Georgiana, and he was feeling great remorse and guilt about the fact that he knew where Sarah was and had not shared that information with his ward.
Sarah had felt inexpressibly torn, but in the end, she had asked Sidney to keep her whereabouts private, especially once she had learned that her daughter's inheritance might be in question. As he prepared to leave, she had removed the shell necklace that she had worn around her neck for as long as she could remember and she had pressed it into his hand, asking him to be certain that Georgiana received it and knew that her mother loved her.
She had heard nothing since.
Now that her daughter was a full adult and had received her inheritance, Sarah could not prevent her mind from wandering over and over to Georgiana. Had Sidney ever given her the necklace? If he had, would she even care to meet her mother after so long? Did she feel angry that she had abandoned her?
Looking out again at the sea, Sarah breathed in the salt air. Her entire life had been lived on the ocean, even when she had lived at Heyrick Park in Sanditon. She couldn't imagine living anywhere else and thought if she were forced inland to a place where she could not hear the crash of the waves and feel the sea spray, she would surely die. Sidney had said that Georgiana would be very comfortable indeed with what Lawrence had left her. Perhaps she was now a fine young lady in London.
Best to leave well enough alone. Sarah had her small house on the beach and her simple needs. Lawrence had been her one great love and he was gone. One day she would join him, and she hoped it would be in a place where she could explain why she had done what she did.
Closing her eyes again, Sarah listened to the sea, and as she had done for so many years, she sent her love across the ocean to her sweet Georgiana, her baby. Her dearest girl.
Upon Declan and Alison's return to the farm in Ulster, there was much to be attended to, including getting Drew situated with Mr. Tristan in his practice as an apprentice, and tending to the needs of their own animals. Four days away, including two full days of travel sees many changes on a working farm – the breakdown of plows and watering systems, downed fence posts and even marauding polecats.
So it was a full day before Declan finally sat down in his study to update the ledgers and go through his mail.
He had stayed in touch with Captain Carter, who had been stationed in India for a time but had then been transferred to the much less dangerous Malay Peninsula in preparation for the British takeover there. Declan had received intermittent correspondence from William, as the young man still considered him a mentor of sorts – so seeing his handwriting on an envelope was not out of the ordinary.
Declan leaned back in his chair, anticipating interesting news about the efforts of the Army in Singapore to convert a recently established British trading post into a fort in hopes of gaining complete control of the island. He was not disappointed, and he was rapt with attention at William's recounting of the ensuing battles, until the subject of the letter took a drastic turn:
Although your days under the command of Colonel Francis Lennox came to an abrupt end and were marked with unfortunate discord, I have some news that may be of interest. I regret to inform you that word has reached me of Colonel Lennox's death in Rajputana in India after a particularly bloody battle with the natives there. Lennox did not die immediately from his wounds, but lingered as his men continued to fight despite being surrounded for many weeks. Although I am aware that there was no love lost between you and the Colonel, I venture to say that you would not wish this slow and painful death from infection on even your worst of enemies. Toward the end, the Captain under his command gave in to the Colonel's repeated pleas that he leave a loaded pistol by his side. Even so, it took him two more days to pull the trigger, but in the end, he died at his own hand.
Declan read the paragraph again and rubbed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. No soldier wishes ill on another one, but he had to admit to feeling conflicted.
Of course, Declan had heard all of the stories by now. He was trusted completely by Alison, Charlotte and Georgiana, as none of them had known a man to be more circumspect in his talk. He was the opposite of a gossip.
Declan had been present at the Army camp that day when Leonora had gone missing. He was the one who first saw her in her uniform and jokingly asked if she was there to enlist, before she very solemnly explained that she wished to speak with Colonel Francis Lennox. He had been the one to escort her to Lennox's tent, and then he was present when Alexander and Charlotte arrived.
He had witnessed Alexander hugging Leonora, and had clearly seen the touch of Alexander's hand and Charlotte's, and the looks shared between them.
Declan Fraser was not a man to pry into other people's business, but he had been naturally curious.
Many people now knew of Georgiana's parentage, but few understood how closely involved Lennox had been in bringing it to light. Declan was one of those who knew – and he was trusted in part because he had served under Colonel Lennox and knew of his decadence, his cruelty, and his utter lack of conscience. He also knew the entire story of Leonora's birth, and rather than make him think less of Alexander Colbourne, it had increased his respect for his brother-in-law as a man of honor who would not abandon a child no matter the circumstances.
That respect only grew over the course of the four days spent at Heyrick Park as he watched Alexander and Leonora together. Declan thought that there was not a person alive who would wonder upon seeing their close connection and obvious love for each other whether they were biologically related – and the fact that he knew their story only put Alexander in more esteem in his eyes.
Everything he had learned since he resigned his commission had reinforced his good decision in that regard. He would not have been able to serve under a man who had done the things he had learned of in any case.
And now Lennox was dead after an excruciating and lingering infection, by his own hand. It did make one wonder at the principles of cause and effect, and how actions have consequences.
Declan sat for another moment and then stood and went to the sitting room. It was Alison's favorite room, with a cozy fireplace and plenty of braided rugs and furniture in which you could get lost. He sat across from her, and she put down the sock she was darning for him.
"What is it?" she said, slightly alarmed at seeing his seriousness.
Declan simply handed her the letter and sat back and watched the fire while she read.
"Oh!" she said suddenly as her eyes went wide. "Oh, Declan. I know that he was horrible to everyone, but the poor man."
"Yes." Declan looked at her. "We must tell them, but the question is: before or after their honeymoon? You know your sister better than anyone. I should think Alexander would want to know sooner rather than later, but will Charlotte be distressed by such news?"
Alison gave him back the letter and frowned, thinking. "Charlotte has a huge heart, but she also likes the sense of things. Lennox was horrible to her as well. I believe knowing will put a period to it in her mind and fully allow her a new chapter. If you send word first thing tomorrow morning, they should receive it before they leave."
Declan stood and kissed her on the forehead. "My wife of good sense," he said affectionately. He reached down and placed his hand gently on her stomach. "Wee one still a fine traveler?"
"Strong as a horse," Alison said, beaming and resting her hand on his. "A little carriage ride is nothing to him."
Declan's eyebrows shot up. "Him? And how would you know that?"
Alison shrugged and gave him an inscrutable look. "Just a feeling. Never you mind," she said, shooing him away with a smile and putting her attention back to her darning.
Dinner was a simple affair at Heyrick House after the days of lavish wedding feasts, and in truth, everyone was somewhat grateful for the informality. Charlotte had moved from her place opposite Alexander at the long table and was able to sit next to him, allowing for more intimate conversation and some surreptitious hand-holding under the table.
Marie was telling wonderful tales of the London theater world, and Charles Lockhart talked of the plethora of artists in the Montparnasse district of Paris – both professions were unspeakably difficult to accomplish with any success, yet still, so many desired it. The fact that Marie and Charles had managed to eke out a living doing what they loved was appreciated by all.
"The power of creativity is a honor and a curse," Marie said. "I should likely be more financially secure as a shopgirl or a lady's maid, but I cannot seem to stay away from the stage."
Arthur smiled at her. "And it is our good fortune that you cannot, my dear. I believe Samuel and I are the only ones here who have had the pleasure of witnessing your artistry, but soon, I am in hopes that this entire table will know how exceedingly well you inhabit the character of Portia."
Charlotte nodded enthusiastically. "We shall be in Paris on your opening night, but I give you my word that when we return from our honeymoon, we will be in our box at the Royal at our earliest opportunity."
Marie smiled at her, nodding and reaching out to touch her hand. "And I shall very much look forward to it."
Alexander turned to Charles. "We are staying in a flat in the Montparnasse. Perhaps you can give us some suggestions for suitable cafes – and I know that my wife is interested in bookshops."
Charles nodded. "Yes, I can surely make some recommendations. Although 'suitable' and Montparnasse are seldom joined in the same sentence. But there is a wonderfully eclectic tea room on Rue Saint Martin where one of my paintings hangs, just at the entrance. It is of the proprietor, Madame Lucienne Blanchet. She wanted me to paint her with her pet snake, and you have not lived until you have attempted to instruct a boa constrictor to sit still," Charles said, grimacing comically.
Laughing, Arthur said, "I suppose it is a blessing that they move so slowly…"
"How did you finally accomplish it?" Charlotte asked, her eyes wide.
Charles raised his eyebrows. "From memory and by subterfuge, my dear lady." He took a sip of his port wine. "I painted her first, and then told her I had all I needed." He looked over at Alexander. "And went straight to the Bibliothèque Mazarine and found a book with a similar creature and copied that. When you see my rendering, do be kind. Next time I shall call on you for the required coloring." Smiling at Leonora, he said, "Or you, Miss Leonora, as you seem to have a much better grasp on the species than I do."
Leo smiled proudly. "Yes, Mother says that I will make a fine ophidian scientist." Just in case Mr. Lockhart was uninformed, she added, "That is someone who studies snakes."
Charles leaned across the table and nodded to her. "Then you are the first one I shall call on when I am next asked to paint a snake of any kind." He tilted his head at her. "I only work with experts."
Charlotte said excitedly, "I am so looking forward to visiting the Bibliothèque and other libraries in Paris. Is it true that they house books that date back to the 1200s?"
"Ah, yes," Charles answered. "Paris' libraries are not only vast and varied collections of books — they are a walk back in history. The great art contained there, in massive volumes, would take years to fully absorb. I have spent many a blissful afternoon in the solemnity of those rooms, away from the noisiness and distractions of cafés."
Alexander leaned back in his chair. "So Charles, are you now available, should I wish to commission a portrait?"
Sitting up straight, Charles looked surprised. "Why yes," he said, looking at Georgiana next to him and then back to Alexander. "I happen to be between commissions at present."
"I should like a portrait of myself, my wife, Augusta and Leonora. There is a space in the foyer that would be perfect for it." Alexander took Charlotte's hand and raised it to his lips.
Charles affected a half-bow right from his seat. "My dear sir, I should be thoroughly honored to capture your lovely family in a portrait." He turned to Leonora and said solemnly, "You shall not be holding a snake, shall you, Miss Leonora?"
Leonora beamed at him. "I do have a turtle and some snails," she said.
"Much less fearsome than snakes," Charles said, nodding.
"And of course, if it is a painting of our family, we shall need to include Turk and Luna," Leonora said, looking at her father.
Charles raised his eyebrows, afraid to hear what this new information might entail. "I do not paint elephants or bats," he said to Leonora, shaking his head. "It never turns out well in my experience."
Laughing again, Leonora said, "No! They are our dogs. Luna is a lurcher, and Turk is a mastiff."
"Very noble breeds," Charles said, smiling. "I should be honored. Do they understand the seriousness required in sitting for a portrait?" he asked.
Leonora shrugged. "Luna certainly does. She can sit still for hours. But Turk is only a puppy…"
Charles nodded. "I have a secret to share." He crooked his finger and Leonora moved closer. "If you find a shoe that your father no longer covets, we will have Turk fully engrossed for a long enough time that I can have a sketch accomplished. It has worked before."
Her eyes wide, Leonora said, "You have painted a puppy before?"
"Yes, many." He lowered his voice. "Another secret? They quite like being immortalized. It suits them."
Those at the table were charmed by this interaction, but none so much as Charlotte and Alexander. He squeezed her hand under the table and said, softly, "It is settled, then. Four people, two dogs and a painting." He turned to Charles, "Shall we discuss the particulars in my office after dinner?"
"Nothing would make me happier," Charles said. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Not to mention, I could use the money."
Everyone laughed at the way he said it – lightly, self-deprecatingly – and anyone who had known him before in Sanditon was fully aware of the change in him. He was still the essential Charles Lockhart – a rebel against proper societal norms, surprisingly candid and happily hedonistic – but his humility was also on full display.
Charlotte was watching Georgiana, and as her friend laughed along with everyone else, she could see what had been missing all these months. There was an ease about Georgiana as she sat back in her chair and smiled at Charles with love in her eyes. Charlotte could recognize it because she knew it in herself. Yes, you can survive without it, but when the missing piece is returned to you, you see the shape of the hole it is filling.
In this moment, Charlotte vowed that she would give Charles every chance possible. He was not the first man to be tempted by money, and he would certainly not be the last. But as she watched him turn and gaze at Georgiana, it seemed to Charlotte that Charles Lockhart had finally discovered something that was more valuable than gold.
"I am happy for Georgiana," Charlotte said, as she brushed out her hair.
Alexander was doing something he did often these days in their bedroom – just gazing at her. It never failed to make him catch his breath, watching Charlotte in the simplest of tasks – washing her face, pulling up her stockings, arranging her hair, lacing up her boots. All of them felt like intimately privileged glimpses into her life, a life he now shared with her.
She turned on the tufted stool that sat in front of her dressing table. The decidedly feminine furniture had been added to his room just before they were married, and it had accomplished what he hoped – it made her feel the room also belonged to her.
"You are studying me again," she said, smiling at him.
Alexander took a deep breath and shrugged. "I cannot seem to help it. You have a rather mesmerizing way of doing things – an economy of motion that fascinates me."
"Alexander," she said, shaking her head and laughing softly. "I am brushing my hair."
"It is like watching a ballet," he said, stretching out his arms to her. He was already in his nightshirt, sitting in the large wingback chair that had been in his bedroom for years. The surprising fact was that he could not remember sitting in it until his marriage to Charlotte, and now he could not imagine why.
Charlotte put down her brush and walked toward him. "I want to tease you about that statement, but I can remember thinking once that watching you walk was very much like a symphony, so I suppose I understand," she said, taking his hands and settling into his lap.
He kissed her silky, newly-brushed hair and laughed. "That sounds like an over-exaggeration to me. A symphony? Moving from one place to another?"
"A ballet? Wrestling the tangles from my hair?" she said, snuggling into his neck and kissing the warmth there.
"Touché," he said, leaning his head back and enjoying the feel of her mouth on his neck. The scent of roses from her bath assailed him and he moved her dressing gown down off of her shoulder so that he could rest his lips there and breathe it in. Again, as always, he felt himself wanting her beyond reason, and it never failed to make him grateful for this suddenly overwhelming desire. As the days went by, his fear was leaving him – that fear that the apathy he had felt with Lucy was an indication that there was something wrong with him and his ability to love fully.
He found her lips with his and pulled her tighter. Neither of them had any doubt what was to come, and he loved that he could feel her urgency as well as his own. His fingertips trailed down the thin cotton front of her gown and Charlotte sighed softly against his lips. Both knew that there was no hurry, that they had a lifetime of this ahead of them, but they seemed to have little patience with clothing these days.
Charlotte stood and took his hand, pulling him up out of the chair and leading him toward the bed. Alexander bent to blow out the candle, but Charlotte stopped him.
"Leave it," she said breathlessly. "I want to see your eyes…"
She lifted her nightgown over her head and pulled back the covers, slipping in.
"As I said," he whispered to her. "Economy of motion." He pulled his own nightshirt over his head quickly and moved next to her. "A ballet…"