Love on Assignment (32 page)

“How was your aunt, Charlotte?” he asked slowly. “Was she quite taken aback by the news?”

“No,” she said. “Sir, there is something—”

“Please call me Daniel.”

She nodded. “If you wish.”

“I do. We've been formal for far too long.”

She studied him for a long moment. “Daniel, if you don't think I'm too personal—I do hope you and the children can stay in Newport.”

He dared to pick up her hand and hold it. “No, not at all. I want you to be personal with me, Charlotte. You must know you're so much more to me than just my children's governess.”

She didn't try to slip her fingers away.

His confidence grew. “The truth is I want to remain here— with you.” When her gaze met his, she was smiling—but sadness reached down into their depths. He waited for her response and hoped she wouldn't turn away or, even worse, run off.

“Daniel, I've done things you wouldn't approve of. I've made dreadful mistakes, which I regret with all my heart. Mistakes I can't easily correct.” She lowered her head, yet he could tell she was blinking back tears.

He squeezed her hand, offering reassurance. “You've confessed these sins to the Lord, and He's forgiven you.”

She shook her head, appearing unconvinced and uncommonly serious. “I wish it was that easy, but it's not. You'd be shocked—and disappointed—in me. I wouldn't blame you. I'm not the woman you want me to be. Or the woman you think I am.” Charlotte stared at the surf, her lower lip trembling. “Under different circumstances, I'd love to get to know you better. But I have to be sensible and so do you.” Her voice choked with sorrow.

“Charlotte, tell me what's bothering you. Trust me to understand.”

She shook her head. “I want to tell you, but it's so hard to confess my faults—my sins. The Lord forgave me and that's a tremendous blessing and such a relief. I'm a different person than I was just a short time ago. But the effects of sin linger. I haven't been altogether honest with you about myself.”

“You said you've changed and that's all that matters to me.”

“But if I don't unburden myself, my sin will always stand between us, at least on my part.”

For a moment he thought she'd burst into tears, but then her trembling lips curved into a sad smile.

“Please let me tell you now.”

“Papa! Papa!” Tim yelled.

Reluctantly, he turned from Charlotte to gaze at his son.

“Come! Bring Miss Hale! You have to see our castle!”

Daniel turned back to Charlotte. “Please dine with me tomorrow night. We can discuss whatever is on your heart then. How does the Coastal Inn sound to you? Or perhaps another restaurant? I'd like us to spend some time together without my family around.”

She hesitated so long Daniel felt sure she'd decline. He held his breath until she nodded slowly. “I must tell you certain things in private and without interruptions. So, yes, I accept your invitation.”

Daniel resisted his longing to smother her in a hug. “Tomorrow at seven thirty.”

Charlotte's shoulders relaxed and her lips tilted up in a dry smile. “That is, I may go if my employer can do without me for the evening.”

Daniel broadened his grin. “He thinks he might be able to get by.”

“Then I shall.” Her voice flowed like cream, but her smile held more than a hint of melancholy.

He couldn't imagine why she wanted to confess to him, and it wasn't necessary. Tomorrow they'd resolve all her concerns.

He glanced toward the children who were adding another level to their giant castle. Daniel eased off the boulder and took her hands in his. Gently he urged her toward him but not as near as he'd like. His heartbeat quickened. He wanted to press her against his chest and feel her softness and smell her sun-drenched skin salted with briny sea air. But he was still damp from his swim.

He leaned forward to kiss her, fully expecting her to resist. But Charlotte tilted her head back and let him touch his mouth against hers and taste the sweetness of her lips. Her gasp was barely audible, but even with the rush of the breeze and the pounding of the surf, he heard her surprised reaction. She stepped closer and brushed against the top of his damp swimsuit, obviously not concerned her cotton shirtwaist would absorb the moisture. He encircled his arms around her and gently pulled her nearer.

“I love you, Charlotte,” he murmured.

She lifted her chin and searched his eyes. “I believe you do, but it wouldn't—”

He bent over and covered her mouth with his again. Enjoying the moment, he wished the sensation of holding her would never end.

Then she glanced over his shoulder, jerked away, and smoothed her skirt. “I'm afraid the children are staring at us. Please excuse me, Daniel. I must be getting back to the cottage.”

Before he could object, she was gone. She strode through the soft sand and over the dunes, stepping around tall, swaying grass. With a sigh, he turned to face Ruthie and Tim. The grinning scamps shot across the beach.

“Papa, you were kissing Miss Hale! Now you have to marry her.” Ruthie clapped her hands.

Tim nodded.

Daniel put up his palms. “Whoa. You're getting ahead of yourself.” But he knew otherwise and from their expressions, so did they. No gentleman kissed a lady if his intentions weren't serious and honorable. Even the children understood. “Please don't tease Miss Hale or even mention—the kiss—to anyone, especially your grandmother.”

“All right.” Tim shrugged and then wandered off to scan the beach for shells.

“Grandmother doesn't like many people, but I'm sure she'll learn to love Miss Hale, just as we do,” Ruthie said, exuding the confidence of a young girl.

“We should hope and pray she'll soften.”

But Daniel didn't really believe his own words. His mother disapproved of any woman she didn't choose, and she'd especially dislike a governess joining the family. Still, though her blessing and good wishes weren't necessary, he'd try to persuade her to accept Charlotte.

Ruthie planted her fists on her straight hips. “I know the Lord wants you to marry Miss Hale. I asked Him and He said yes in my heart.” Ruthie's eyes were so round and earnest Daniel had to smile and even absorb some of her optimism.

“We'll see, pumpkin.” Daniel clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out to sea.

“You can't wait forever, Papa, or you'll miss the moment.” Ruthie breathed out a dramatic sigh. “Remember, you're supposed to do what God wants, according to His perfect timing. And He told me His perfect timing is right now—well, not in so many words, but I got His message.”

Daniel laughed. “And now I have it too. Go play before the fog rolls in.” As Ruthie sprinted back to her sand castle—already dissolving into the encroaching tide—Daniel sat on the rock and ran his fingers through his windblown hair.

Ruthie was right. He should ask Charlotte to marry him. With no time to waste, he needed to propose as soon as possible and pray she'd accept an unemployed professor with no job prospects. Somehow they'd manage to get along, though without the frills his mother and children were used to.

He'd married the first time to please his mother, but now he'd choose his own wife. His union with Sarah had buried them both in misery. Mismatched, they reached out for each other, yet never touched, except physically. And that wasn't enough to satisfy either of them. But Charlotte's smile banished his resolution to remain single. She'd flung open the locked door of his heart and stepped inside, bringing sunshine and joy. Her objections didn't deter him. She admitted her affection and that's what mattered most. They'd work out their problems, large and small, and then she'd agree to his proposal. Despite her reservations, she was sure to come around.

It was well past time to close the chapter of his life with Sarah and open a new one with Charlotte.

CHARLOTTE RUSHED ACROSS the lawn into the cool deserted kitchen. Voices rose and fell from the direction of the pantry. Chef Jacques was scolding one of the kitchen maids. Relieved no one was in the servants' hall, she dropped onto a ladder-back chair set around the long table. She waited for her chest to quit heaving, but she couldn't relax. She needed time alone to collect her thoughts and decipher how much Daniel's kiss had altered their relationship. They'd stepped over the line separating employee from employer. Why hadn't she pushed him away? Instead she'd reveled in his affection,
just one kiss before I say good-bye
ringing through her head. Yet she should've discouraged his advances.

She buried her head in her hands. She couldn't concentrate on anything but the kiss from the man she loved yet could never have—because of her secret and her own sinfulness. Unshed tears of regret burned her eyes. She closed them tight and recalled the taste of his lips and the scent of his sun-brushed skin. A long groan escaped from her throat.

“Now who could that be, moaning so loud?”

Charlotte startled as Mrs. Finnegan bustled into the room.

“My word, you're about to cry. Something's gone wrong, hasn't it? I'm all ears if you'd like a good talk.” She squinted with sympathy as she dropped into the chair across the table.

Charlotte shook her head. Sniffing back tears, she answered, “I appreciate your concern, but I'm all right.”

“A nice cold glass of lemonade might help.” Mrs. Finnegan heaved herself up.

“Yes, please, if you don't mind.”

Mrs. Finnegan soon returned from the kitchen with two tall glasses and sat at the table across from Charlotte. She leaned forward, her hands folded on the tablecloth. “Now tell me, what's the matter, dearie? It's the Wilmonts, isn't it? The professor wouldn't upset a soul, so it must be his mother. How are you and Mrs. Wilmont getting on?”

“She doesn't like me one bit.” Heat scorched Charlotte's face as she recalled all the cutting remarks she'd endured when she really wanted to defend herself and throw her silly little doily cap at her. Or even better, strangle her with the cap's streamers.

Leaning closer, the housekeeper lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I've worked me fingers to the bone for Mrs. Wilmont for over thirty years. And she still doesn't appreciate my efforts.” She chuckled and then waved in dismissal. “But it doesn't matter one way or t'other. Wouldn't I be in sad shape if it did? She's a tough old hen, but I try not to ruffle her feathers. I do me work best I can, and mind me own business. We get along fine that way.”

“You mean I shouldn't take her criticisms to heart?” Charlotte gave a lopsided smile. She couldn't imagine ignoring such a nasty lady for more than thirty years.

“I mean just that. Do your chores and don't fret if you can't please her. Some people are born complainers and won't bother to change.” Mrs. Finnegan flashed crooked teeth. “Don't you know she suffered from her husband's neglect. Shameful, he was. The man never came home when he could stay away. Hoarded his money too. No wonder the missus turned bitter. He broke her heart.”

“That's dreadful,” Charlotte admitted with grudging sympathy. Yet an unhappy marriage didn't justify her sour disposition and mean spirit.

Mrs. Finnegan sipped her lemonade. “Mr. Wilmont owned several stove-making factories, so he was in a position to give his wife all she wanted. But he held everything back.”

“He sounds like an old miser.”

“That he was. He willed the business to his son, Edgar, but he neglected to leave much to the rest of the family. Of course a million or two dollars is a fortune to most folks, but to Mrs. Wilmont, it was a slap in the face. Seems the randy gentleman had a woman on the side with extravagant tastes. She squandered most of his fortune on trinkets for herself. But enough gossip.” Mrs. Finnegan set her lips tight.

“I can see Mrs. Wilmont was mistreated, but still, that's no excuse for her attitude.”

“Tis'nt, to be sure. But it's why she's like she is. She's a hard woman to please, especially if she doesn't take to you.”

The sound of footsteps in the hallway diverted Charlotte's attention. She glanced up to find the professor dressed in a fresh white shirt and tan trousers. A frown squeezed his brow until he spotted Mrs. Finnegan, then his mouth curved into a smile.

Mrs. Finnegan's cheeks puffed with pleasure. “Good afternoon, sir. Is there something I can be getting for you?”

“My mother would like a cup of tea, please.”

“Yes, sir. I'll have it sent up right away.” Mrs. Finnegan headed for the kitchen.

“Where are Tim and Ruthie? I ought to get them cleaned up,” Charlotte said, avoiding Daniel's steady gaze. Their wet clothes would dribble sand and salt water throughout the house and give Mrs. Wilmont a good excuse to complain—not that she needed one.

“I sent them upstairs to wash,” Daniel said, hovering, as if reluctant to leave.

“I'll go right up.” Charlotte swallowed the last drops of her icy drink and rose. She edged around him and up the stairs, feeling the heat of his gaze until she disappeared into the cool of the stairwell.

TWENTY