Swallowing hard, she glanced at Gwen, whose pursed lips and narrowed eyes condemned her. She was condemning herself, knowing how difficult it must have been for Hugh to speak with Jared and reveal her negative reply to his proposal.

Lord Merrick cleared his throat, and she returned her gaze to his. His handsome face was impassive, betraying none of his thoughts. "I will relate to you what I told Montrose. A great many adventurers have searched for that treasure over the years, Mrs. Riddleton. I doubt your chances of locating it are any better than theirs, even with Montrose's substantial largesse. However, he insisted this be done, and because I consider him a friend, I have agreed to assist you." He stood. "I have your direction, and I will contact you to make arrangements as the date of departure nears."

She grabbed his arm and blurted, "How is he?"

Merrick arched a brow and studied her carefully. "As well as any man can be when he's disheartened."

"Oh." Her hand fell away. The tone of Merrick's voice told her much. "You don't like me, do you, Lord Merrick?"

"I don't like that you have wounded my friend, but I very much appreciate your rejection of his suit. I was fortunate to find true happiness in my marriage. I wish nothing less for him. He's heartbroken now, but he'll recover. I hope one day he will love again, as unfashionable as that is, and next time I hope the lucky woman loves him as well."

Charlotte looked away quickly, biting back a sob. The picture evoked by Merrick's words cut her deeply, clenching a fist around her heart. "I love him," she said, her voice wavering but clear.

"Mrs. Riddleton," he said, sighing, "I am not privy to the state of your affairs, but I can assure you, for you to remain seated here while a man who loves you suffers is not love by any means."

She looked at him. "My decision was made for his benefit as well as mine. I have reasons. I-"

"I'm certain you do. But love requires a leap of faith, and often it has no reason. It simply exists." He bowed. "Montrose has made arrangements for you to depart tomorrow. Is that acceptable to you?"

She gave a jerky nod, and Merrick walked away, his departure drawing the appreciative gaze of every woman in the room.

Gwen stood. "You coward," she accused, in a sharp whisper. "You want to run back to the manse and allow the best thing that ever happened to us go without argument!"

Charlotte blinked, never having witnessed Gwen saying an unkind word to anyone. "That's not true. I'm doing what is best for all of us. We hardly know him and his history-"

"'Tis not his history that is the problem, but yours. You are afraid to rely on anyone. You have fended for yourself and all of us for so long, you don't know how to allow someone else to lighten your load."

"You are too young to understand, Gwen."

"How could living with Montrose possibly be any worse than the way we are living now? Even if he were to become destitute, which I doubt, from what I've managed to overhear, we would live no less in poverty than we do at this moment, and we would have him!"

Standing, Charlotte lifted her chin, fighting off the tears that threatened. She had managed hardly a wink of sleep in the last two nights, and the conversation with Lord Merrick had her thoughts in chaos. Looking around, she saw the curious glances. "I refuse to discuss this any further while we have an audience." She swept out of the room with Guinevere fast on her heels.

"Think on it, Charlotte. Think how happy we have all been. Tom and Henry carry themselves with a pride they never had before, because Lord Montrose has never condescended to them or made them feel inferior for their handicaps. Katie adores him. Even Artemis has a grudging like of him." Gwen's voice became breathless as she chased Charlotte up the stairs. "It wasn't an accident that I went to his room that night. I wanted him to find the secret door. I wanted him to know to look deeper."

Charlotte halted on the upper landing, her breath coming in heaving gasps. She spun around. "Beg your pardon?"

Gwen held out a hand and leaned against the railing, catching her breath. "When Tom and Henry told me about the earl, I thought he might be the one. When Katie told me the story about the pitchers, I began to think of how I could be certain. And when I saw your face with its rosy glow and bright eyes, I knew he was the one, and Artemis did, too. Why you cannot see it is beyond me!"

Shocked, Charlotte could say nothing.

"I have admired you for as long as I've known you, Charlotte. Please don't take that away from me." Gwen moved past her and disappeared around the corner, leaving Charlotte with a tear-ravaged face and far too much to consider.

Charlotte pushed aside the sheer curtain that covered the window and looked out upon the winter scene below. Her heart thrummed a restless rhythm as she watched Hugh and Lucien Remington walk their mounts back to the stables, the horses' hooves leaving clear tracks in the snow.

As Hugh disappeared from her view, she turned and gazed at the room around her, a room in which she'd spent most of the last twenty-four hours deciding what it was she wished to do with her life. Her trunks were packed and waited by the door. She was leaving today, and once she departed she knew there would be no turning back. However, before that happened, she was willing to make one last, desperate bid.

She'd discovered something about herself over the last sleepless night, something she should have acknowledged long ago-she was a coward, just as Guinevere had said. A coward who was afraid to believe that someone would care for her, worry about her, and wish the best for her. To give control of anything into the keeping of another was difficult for her, a woman who had cared for herself with no assistance almost since birth. But she was a coward who was more afraid of losing Hugh La Coeur forever than she was of placing her fate and the fate of her dependents in his hands.

The hands of the clock on the mantle moved with torturous leisure. It seemed forever before a half hour passed. Once it had, she left her room and traversed the winding hallways until she came to the wing where Hugh's suite was located. She paused at the door to his room, her hands shaking, her breath coming in unsteady pants. Before she lost her courage, Charlotte reached for the handle and walked right in.

"Go away," Hugh said curtly. "I didn't send for anything."

Her eyes filled with tears at the sound of his voice. She'd missed it, missed the way it spoke to her in the darkness, embracing her as surely as he did. Soft and encouraging, or husky and raw, it had offered her a lifetime of joy, and she'd thrown it away like a fool.

He stood by the window, looking out at the rear lawn. He'd removed his coat and waistcoat, his broad shoulders covered in a white linen shirt, his powerful legs encased in breeches and boots. For a moment she simply absorbed the sight of him-the firm curve of his ass, his wind-tousled hair, the graceful arc of his arm as it held the curtains back. She'd missed him so much, she thought she would die of it. Even now her throat was so tight, she doubted she could speak.

He glanced over his shoulder and froze. For an instant, she glimpsed raw pain in his dark eyes, but it was quickly masked with the studious impassivity of a seasoned gambler. "What do you want?" He looked away.

Charlotte stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. "Lord Merrick has informed me that you've arranged for me to travel with him to the West Indies."

Hugh said nothing.

"He says you've paid for my journey and financed an expedition."

"I told you I would help you without any obligation on your part." He snorted. "But I suppose with your lack of faith in me, your surprise is to be expected."

She bit her lower lip and took a moment before she could reply. "I deserved that."

"Aren't you departing today?" he asked gruffly.

"Yes. Gwen and I shall be leaving in just a few hours."

"Godspeed." He waved his hand over his shoulder in a gesture of dismissal.

Charlotte's chin lifted. His anger was her due, and she would bear it. She would pay whatever penance he required if he would find it in his heart to love her again.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer. "Don't you wish to say good-bye to me, Hugh?"

"We've already done that."

"'Tis apparent you've said farewell, but I haven't. Not properly."

That spun him about. He'd removed his cravat, leaving his throat bare and revealing a light dusting of golden hair in the slender opening of his shirt. His gaze raked from the top of her head to her slippered feet. She made no attempt to hide her longing or desire.

He gave a bitter laugh. "Ah, I'm untrustworthy and have no self-restraint, but I can fuck well. What a relief to know I'm good for something."

Charlotte winced. "You are good for a great many things, Hugh La Coeur. And I am a thousand kinds of fool for making you doubt that."

His jaw tensed. "I'm not in the mood for your games."

She stepped close enough to smell him, a rich combination of the scent of his skin, horses, and the wild outdoors. His nostrils flared as she neared; his gaze narrowed.

"I've missed you," she whispered. She reached for his hand, but he backed away quickly, an action she took as a positive sign. He couldn't be as indifferent as he appeared, or he wouldn't fear her touch. "I didn't believe Glenmoore. Not even for a moment. He simply provided the excuse to be a craven I was looking for."

"Get out," he snarled.

"I can't." She smiled sadly. "I need you, Hugh."

Shaking his head, he moved away. "No, you don't. You can care for yourself; you don't need anyone to rescue you. I, however, have discovered I require being needed. And for more than just my cock."