Miss Charlotte Heywood stared down at her gloves she held in her hands before glancing out the window of the carriage to see the distancing lights of Heyrick Park. She took a deep breath as the noise of the carriage trundling along the pebbled road dulled and she touched her burning lips, smiling in disbelief.

Had that all really happened?

She recalled arriving for work at Heyrick Park that morning, the exchanges she and Mr Colbourne had had then, and how very different those conversations were to what had occurred between them only a few hours later at the ball, and just now. Now, it was all very different between them.

Whatever 'it' was.

She closed her eyes momentarily, flashes of her final moments at the ball entering her thoughts. She opened her eyes as the road smoothened slightly signalling their entrance into the township, still replaying the events of the past couple of hours over and over in her head.

"Miss Heywood will come with us," Mr Colbourne said. It was now or never. There was no other way. She had been kept in the dark for too long and she needed to know what history lay between this man and the Colonel that she had gotten caught in. She was not interested in being the pawn in anyone's game.

Charlotte started to follow Mr Colbourne and his niece Miss Augusta Markham when she realised, she should collect her purse and let someone know that she was leaving.

"I'll just be a moment," she had said softly as her eyes explained to him what her thoughts had been, and he nodded with a small smile, understanding her meaning.

She saw that her sister, Alison, was dancing with Captain Fraser and smiled, thinking to herself 'Finally'. She searched instead for one of the Parkers and found Mary in the next room observing the dancers from a distance.

"Are you unwell, Charlotte?" Mary asked when Charlotte informed her of her early retreat. Mary was obviously distracted – concerned – her eyes fixed on Miss Georgiana Lambe as she danced happily with another young gentleman, though the young heiress' dark eyes had caught those of Mr Lockhart's as he re-entered the ballroom. Charlotte knew there was much she would have to ask Georgiana about tomorrow.

"Yes, I just –." Charlotte paused, her eyeline meeting Colonel Lennox's from the across the room briefly. Her breath caught and she pursed her lips indignantly and lifted her chin, determined to not have him believe he had any effect on her. "I've a slight headache, and Mr Colbourne and Miss Markham have kindly offered to take me home on their way to Heyrick Park."

"I'm sorry to hear you're not feeling well. That certainly is very kind of them to take you home." Mary's frown eased as her lips twitched with a concerned smile, though still examining the glances being exchanged between the young heiress and the artist. "Well, take care and rest well, my dear. We shall see you at home later." She reached out and squeezed her young friend's hand absentmindedly.

The music and laughter softened and Charlotte unconsciously gripped her purse tighter as she approached the shadowed figures at the top of the assembly room stairs outside. She heard the carriage stop and saw him usher Augusta towards it as he remained waiting for her.

She could see his shoulders were tense and elbows bent, with an occasional twitch of his right forearm that he was fidgeting with the ring upon his left fifth finger, as he often did. She took a deep breath as she approached him and smiled up him, nervously catching his eye to indicate she was ready to leave.

He extended his left arm towards the carriage, gently saying, "Please," as his right hand hovered behind her back. "I thought perhaps we could see Augusta home, then continue our conversation."

"Of course." She glanced up at him, somewhat surprised at the tentative hand he offered to help her up into the carriage. She sat opposite Augusta and smiled as Mr Colbourne joined his niece.

Augusta's elation in the carriage was palpable as she shared of her experiences with her governess from picking her outfit, to the dances she'd had. The young lady made a point to inform her governess of the the mistakes she'd made and jested blame on Charlotte for teaching her ill. Charlotte heard Mr Colbourne chuckle softly and she bit her lips that were being tugged by a smile in response.

She made conscious effort not to look at him, intent on focusing only on Augusta as they covered the distance from the Assembly Rooms to Heyrick Park, though she could feel the weight of his gaze on her. She could feel a warmth inside, just as she had after they had danced. She could not help but hope that in amongst his silences he perhaps felt the same with her – alive. And yet she hesitated in revelling in the feeling. Would she be able to accept him in this new light after getting to know him?

The smile faded slightly from Augusta's face as they arrived back at her uncle's estate, as if her return had signalled the end of her happy evening and a return to a mundane existence – she had heard her young charge express such notions before.

Charlotte's brow twitched as Mr Colbourne alighted the carriage after his niece and offered his hand to her. She realised in that instant that she had wrongfully assumed that they would continue back to Trafalgar House to continue their conversation in the privacy of the carriage.

She pursed her lips having made her decision after a quick mental debate: she was the governess of Heyrick Park who accompanied her charge Miss Markham with her guardian back home – there would hardly be anything unrespectable with that. Besides, she had long since stopped caring what others thought of her opinions and actions, and she was resolved to take this chance. She caught his hand and followed him inside Heyrick Park, nervously curious about the depth of Alexander Colbourne's mysterious world that she was about to enter.

The eldest Miss Heywood had always found it amusing to try to make out peoples' characters, and had thought, at least until recent years, that she was a fairly good judge. For Mr Colbourne it had proved nearly impossible to make out his disposition: there was little revealed about himself in the exchanges they had had, the focus of their discussions being the girls and their wellbeing. She also knew that she really did not have the right to know her employer's nature. That is, until she was recently caught in the middle of he and Colonel Lennox's animosity. Now she needed to know the 'why 'of it all. Now that he offered the explanation freely, who was she to deny him the opportunity to justify his behaviour.

Charlotte was shaken out of her reverie as the front door was closed behind her. Mr Colbourne exchanged a quick word with his steward who opened the door, informing him to keep the horses bridled, before a familiar, though uncharacteristically informal, voice echoed through to the foyer. "Miss Leonora has been impossible: up and down from her bed all evening."

The young governess smiled nervously as the estate's housekeeper caught hers, confused and bemused.

"Miss Heywood." Mrs Wheatley said, more formally. "I was not expecting you."

Charlotte could only smile nervously and glance up at Mr Colbourne who was busy looking down at his feet. She opened her mouth silently, choosing her words, though she had no explanation to give without speaking of the evening's events that Colonel Lennox's actions had put into motion.

Instead, she turned her attention to young Leo as she rushed towards them, her eyes beaming with excitement, grateful for the interruption.

"Did you dance Augusta?"

Charlotte smiled at the endearing site of the two cousins embracing, in stark contrast to the bickering girls she had met weeks earlier.

"Come girls, let us leave your father and Miss Heywood in peace."

"I'll tell you everything tomorrow," she whispered to the young girl. She saw the silent conversation that occured between Mrs Wheatley and Mr Colbourne's eyes before Augusta and Leo proceeded upstairs under Mrs Wheatley's watchful eye.

Alone in the foyer, Charlotte's breath caught in her throat when he turned back to look at her with a nervous intensity she had not seen before. She felt her heartbeat hasten under his stare. Her lips parted, wanting to say something to fill the silence, but she still could not find any words to say – again. She chastised herself for being so dumbfounded. In situations such as these, surely one would suggest tea.

Or perhaps something stronger.

Before she could make a foolish suggestion, Mr Colbourne smiled softly and turned on his heel to silently start down the hallway. She followed him wordlessly, her nervous interest building with each step. Her breath caught sharply when his soft voice surprised her.

"Please," he gestured for her to enter the drawing room, "I'll just be a few moments." He nodded briefly before continuing down the dimly candlelit hallway to, she assumed, his study while shrugging off his tailcoat.

Charlotte stared after him, somewhat confused, but proceeded into the candlelit drawing room, nervously descending onto the settee by the fireplace, her eyes darting around her. She smiled, hearing gentle pattering of footsteps upstairs, knowing the girls were likely too excited to sleep. She could picture Mrs Wheatley running after them and making ultimatums of no consequence with them.

It was her turn to fidget and she found herself playing with her sheer gloves with nothing but the crackle of the fireplace to fill the room's silence. She pulled them up above her elbows, to straighten them up out of habit, but then decided the pull them off completely, wanting to be rid of the memory of Colonel Lennox's hold on her wrist. She used the gloves to wipe the memory of his lips on hers before tossing them on the table before her, disgusted.

Before she could think again on what had happened on the balcony, she heard Mr Colbourne's footsteps coming back towards the drawing room – familiar yet different. The cadence was the same, but his footsteps seemed less sure without his usual riding boots.

Charlotte turned to see him enter the room holding two glasses of wine. She thought that he was about to walk right back out again until he paused, their gazes meeting. But he continued forward, almost as if his movements were governed by another force.

"Forgive me," he started softly as he remained standing by the settee, holding out one of the glasses for her to take. "I thought you might want a refreshment."

She took it, somewhat suspicious that he might have heard her thoughts earlier, smiling her thanks. She had never seen him with a glass of wine before, and she found herself getting more nervous about what he had to tell her – that he would need to calm himself so. She took a small sip before putting the glass down beside her tossed gloves, hoping he would feel comfortable enough to follow suit if he needed to.

Charlotte watched him as he shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, playing again with his ring as he also awkwardly held his glass. Suddenly, as if a mental battle had been won, he shook his head quickly and sat down on the settee and put the glass down on the table beside the candlestick before turning towards her.

"I just needed to have a moment to –"

She focused on her own breathing, their gazes locked momentarily, as he paused to swallow nervously. She had never seen him like this, and she began to regret putting him in this position.

"I just needed collect my thoughts."

The intense gaze broke as Mr Colbourne took a deep breath and looked down at his ever-fidgeting fingers. She noted the softness of his voice as recounted his history with Colonel Lennox and his departed wife, Lucy.

Charlotte felt a lump in her throat form as the details she'd longed to find out about came to light. Mr Colbourne's behaviour towards the Colonel took on a new meaning – they were utterly justified – and reason for the distance between he and young Leonora clarified.

She began to hate herself for prying, for asking him to tell her the truth that had been locked up these long years. She cursed her curiosity for putting him in an avoidably painful situation.

"I so wanted to tell you, but I was afraid of what you would think of me," she heard him say, as if he was trying to ease her shame and Charlotte frowned. He had wanted to tell me?

His words replayed in her mind and she unconsciously reached out her hand to touch his as the words laced with guilt repeated.

Charlotte fixed her gaze in an attempt to comfort him; to make him understand that, whatever he thought she would think of him after the events of the decade past, she in fact did not think badly of him. "You should not endure such recrimination after so long."

She frowned as he looked away from her, shame veiling his face as he shook his head in denial.

"Forgive yourself –."

"I cannot," he continued to shake his head as he bit his lip. "I-I cannot."

She recalled the hesitation in accepting her changed regard for him and found that her feelings had only been strengthened by the details he had shared.

How could he not see that he was not the disappointing failure he had thought himself to be; that he had allowed himself to believe he was. He had taken care of Leonora as his own daughter despite the hurt he constantly felt. He had continued to provide and work day to day for the livelihood of his family and estate. He had forged a new life for himself even after everything, even if he did not realise it.

She needed to make him understand what he was doing to himself; what she had been doing to herself. How she had often felt guilt over moving forward, guilt over the possibility of a new life – a new love.

"You must." She implored as his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance of days gone. "Else the past will thwart the future."

Charlotte had tried to fight the connection that had formed between them, feeling undeserving of such an attachment. She knew she needed to make him know what she now wanted.

"A future that I imagine could be very dear indeed."

The words hung in the space between them as their eyes met. The air around them had thickened and she suddenly realised how close to each other they were.

She felt the warmth of his left hand close over hers and she revelled in its touch. The overwhelming heat extended to her core, and she tightened her fingers slightly, hoping he would understand her meaning.

No more words were needed - she knew from the intensity in his eyes that he understood.

She felt her breaths deepen as she closed the remaining distance between them, catching his lips with hers. Their hands parted as the trepidation melted away and she felt his arm wrap around her waist.

Charlotte's senses were heightened with each kiss and each touch of his waistcoat and shirt against her fingertips transmitting prickles up her arms. She felt the skin of her neck tingle with his gentle touch, as his fingers drew her closer to him still and she felt herself falling into him as she became overwhelmed with his caresses and his scent.

She leant her forehead against his, a smile tugging at her lips as they parted from his. She leaned into his gently stroking fingers at her cheek as she tried to slow her breathing. Her tight hold of his arm loosened as she relaxed into the peace of that moment and into the shared truths, both spoken and not, that filled space between them.

"Forgive me, it's been many years since I..."

"No," she interrupted him, shaking her head gently. She opened her eyes met his, and the smile at her lips widened. "Let us not think about the past any longer."

She said this mostly to her own racing thoughts that almost begun to drift backwards. All she wanted now was to move onward and for the first time she felt that she could. Overcome, she boldly closed the gap between their lips once more, her skin still burning against the touch of his hand.

Footsteps from the staircase creaked, bringing them both back to reality. She opened her eyes to see his soft gaze staring back at her, disappointment visible.

"It's late. I should get you back to Trafalgar House."

Charlotte could only nod, knowing that he was right, yet his fingers lingered as though he was not yet willing to accept the truth of his words. His lips parted and almost caught hers again, but he exhaled instead, defeated.

She nodded again, understanding what mental debate had occurred and she felt the coolness at her neck as his hand dropped down to trace down her arm and take her hand.

"I-," Mr Colbourne started. "I should let my coachman know it's time to take you back. Give me a moment."

And with that, he stood and took a deep breath, willing his legs to move.

Left alone again, she touched her fingers to her lips that still tingled and chuckled to herself in disbelief. She reached for the glass of wine and took a sip – the sharp jarring taste so different to that of his lips. She reached for her belongings on the table and stood as she heard his footsteps returning.

They both smiled shyly and averted their gazes as he walked back to her. She looked down as he took her hand again, trying to find some way to acknowledge the immense shift in their worlds.

"Thank you, for being so honest. I," she paused, debating her next words, "Am glad we know each other a little better now."

They both laughed at the meanings of her words.

"Just a little? Was there more you wished to know about me?" She felt the fine hairs at her neck's nape prickle at his voice, soft and teasing.

"Yes."

Charlotte smirked as his eyes narrowed playfully,

"Why did you lie about being able to dance?"

"Ah, I never said I could not dance." It was her turn to narrow her eyes as he continued, "Only that I did not. There's a difference."

She bit her lip and shook her head slightly as he squeezed her hand.

"Come."

They walked slowly hand in hand until the entered the dim hallway when they both instinctively let go and she followed him back to the foyer. The door was open, and a cool breeze filled the air. She glanced at the familiar clock, grateful that the hour was not as late as she had thought.

She looked back at him as he stood at the open door and approached him awkwardly, nervous that Mrs Wheatley might join them.

"Fear not, I made a point to ensure you were home before midnight."

She tilted her head in question.

"Cendrillon."

She raised her brow at his apparent reason and watched him look down at his feet again as he explained, "Cendrillon. Ou la petite pantoufle de verre."

She opened her mouth to query, still confused, but he continued, "It's a French story about an orphaned girl who was forbidden from attending a Royal ball, but with the assistance of a fairy godmother who uses magic to get her to the ball she is able to attend and have a wonderful evening. However, she has strict instruction that she must leave the ball and return home before midnight when the magic runs out of time, otherwise she will be discovered."

She met his gaze again, and he softly said, "I would not wish any magic to run out of time for you."

Charlotte smiled and followed him to the carriage, where he was again holding out his hand to her. Silently she took it, revelling in its warmth a final time, and took her seat in the carriage.

"Until tomorrow, then." She smirked, knowing she had just said the words he was about to utter. He laughed instead and nodded.

"Goodnight, Miss Heywood."

The carriage stopped and she was soon out of her reverie as the carriage door opened and the footman held his gloved hand out to her. Charlotte hastily alighted from the carriage to see light coming through the Trafalgar House windows. She pulled the bell, and the footman opened the door.

"The Parkers have not yet returned," he informed her, and she sighed, thankful to have a few more moments alone and glanced at the hallway clock, smiling about the story Mr Colbourne had told her.

"I would not wish the magic to run out of time for you."

She made her way up to her bedroom, allowing herself to smile and delight in the memories of him, still not quite believing what had transpired between them.

'It' felt familiar yet so different to what she had felt before – she felt as if a flint was struck each time they touched. Her fingers tingled, remembering the warmth of his touch. Her breaths deepened thinking of the rich timbre of his voice.

She sat at her desk and looked at the dried cornflowers that she had yet to press into her book. She smiled, knowing the answer to her own question of what 'it' was that had developed between she and Mr Colbourne:

"It must be magic."