friends.
Isn't that splendid?"
It had been a long, stuffy carriage ride, unusually
bumpy and uncomfortable, even though the coach
had been one of her grandfather's finest, a plush
conveyance made for long journeys. Somehow her
grandfather had slept through most of the trip,
forcing Charlotte to admit her discomfort was
probably not due to the coach or the condition of
the road, but rather her unease over the destination at the end of it.
Farmington Manor. Miraculously, she had visited
the estate numerous times after that first disastrous
Christmas holiday, but never again in December.
The countess had been generous with her invitations, and after realizing that Edward was never in
residence, Charlotte had agreed to accompany her
grandfather whenever he asked her to join him.
Somehow, visiting during the middle of a budding
spring or spending a delightful summer month as a
houseguest had a healing effect on Charlotte. Farmington Manor was a beautiful estate, with an almost
magical charm. When the atmosphere was thick with
the perfume of flowers, the fountains spouting an unending stream of water and every blade of grass
meticulously groomed, the memories of the winter
cold and those stolen kisses beneath the mistletoe
were forgotten.
Yet the usual peace and delight she experienced
when first arriving at the manor was absent today. Instead, a headache had plagued her since lunch.
Craving exercise and hoping the fresh air and sunshine would ease the pain of her pounding head,
Charlotte set off on a walk.
"Shall I accompany you?" her maid asked. "Or
would you like me to see if any of the other ladies
are interested in taking some fresh air?"
"I prefer to be alone," Charlotte admitted. "If I stay
on the grounds within sight of the house, it should
be acceptable for me to venture off on my own."
Realizing it was never a good idea to offend the
countess on the first day of her visit, Charlotte
skirted the edge of the terraced gardens. She followed the graveled path that led to the stables,
keeping herself in clear view of the manor, but
avoiding the windows so others would not readily
see her. She waved cheerily to the stable lads, but
did not stop to admire the horses, since she carried
no treats with which to spoil them.
By the time she had walked the full length of the
rear courtyard, her headache was much improved.
Feeling infinitely better, Charlotte followed the
stone path around the side of the house and headed
for the front door.
The crunching sounds of horse's hooves on the
main drive caught her attention. She turned to investigate and beheld two finely dressed gentlemen
on horseback coming up the drive. One of them
waved. She immediately concluded they were
either afternoon visitors coming to pay a call or additional houseguests.
It was hardly her role to greet them, yet it would
be rude to disappear inside the house, since they
had obviously seen her. Charlotte smoothed the front of her red wool cloak and patiently waited for
them to arrive at the front portico.
The sun was positioned at a low angle, almost directly behind the men's heads. The small brim of
her fashionable bonnet offered no protection, forcing Charlotte to squint into the bright glare. It
made little difference; she still could not see their
faces. With a small sigh of annoyance, Charlotte
lifted her arm and positioned it over her head,
shielding her eyes from the harsh light.
The riders came into clear focus. Tensing, Charlotte squinted harder, adjusted her arm and told
herself the light was playing tricks with her vision.
She easily recognized the rider on the left as
Jonathan Barringer, and for an instant she thought
the other man was his older brother, Edward.
That, of course, was ridiculous.
Though he was now the earl, he never came to
Farmington Manor. If he did, Charlotte would not.
She moved forward a few paces, out of the harsh
glare, then froze. It was impossible! Unable to