The Charmer (36 page)

Ah, Susanna. God he missed her.
It had been weeks since he'd left Stoneleigh. The roads had been poor and it
had taken him longer than expected to arrive home.

Home. No, not that. Not now. The
house had May's stamp all over it, and his brother was clearly the master.
There was no place for Orlando there.

"I can't," he said.
"I'll be leaving in the spring."

"You can choose what you
want to do this time," Thomas went on. The left side of his mouth, the
good side, lifted in a smile. It was the first Thomas had given Orlando since
his return and it was a relief to see it. "Perhaps work with the
customers. You had them eating out of your hand as I recall, back before..."
He set the quail bone down and picked up a cloth to wipe his hands.

"Before you left," May
finished for him. She clasped the pearl and agate pendant hanging from a gold
chain around her neck. "We really would like you to return to work in the
family business, Orlando. Thomas...needs your help."

"Oh?" Orlando looked
from one to the other but neither met his gaze.

"Times have been difficult
of late," Thomas said. "Having you work beside me again would be
invaluable."

"I can't," Orlando
said.

"Because of what happened? Orlando,
I don't blame you for this." He tapped the scar with his finger.

"You used to."

"We don't anymore," May
said. "It wasn't your fault. And you shouldn't blame yourself either.
Orlando, we need you now. You were so good with the customers, so natural. It
was never the same after you left, we never had quite as many orders."

"I'm not really sure how you
did it." Thomas shook his head. "But there's no denying the
figures."

"I hated it," Orlando
said. "Hated every moment of the work." How could he make them
understand? "All I wanted to do was get away, anywhere. I needed to
do
something."

"You can have more
responsibility this time and more to do," Thomas said. "Indeed, I'll
let you do what you want, work when you want. Just...come back."

Orlando drained his glass,
closing his eyes as he did so. Hell. Of all the ill-timing. "I've promised
Susanna I'd return in the spring. I can only help you until then."

"Is she the orange grower in
Hampshire?"

Orlando nodded.

"Are you going to marry
her?" May asked.

Orlando studied his trencher and Susanna's
words echoed through him:
We are not getting married, Orlando. Not now and
not when you return.

"No," he said.
"I'm not going to marry her."

"If you're not going to wed
her, you should forget about her." May touched the pendant nestled against
her bodice. "Please, Orlando, stay."

"Don't beg, May. He's made
his decision." Thomas rose and left without a farewell.

May watched him go and sighed. "Thomas
hasn't been the same since that day. He worries more. He doesn't trust his
workers like he used to, doesn't trust anyone. The business is suffering
because he's trying to do everything, and he works harder than ever." She
closed her hand around the pendant and leaned forward. "You owe us,
Orlando. For what you brought down on this house, on Thomas. Your loyalty
should lie here, with your family, and not with a woman you're not going to
wed."

She too left and Orlando sat
alone in his brother's dining room while his brother's servants cleared the
dishes away. His heart felt leaden, his head woolly. He finally had a chance to
atone for what he'd done to Thomas and May, what he'd caused to be done to
them. And Susanna had refused his offer of marriage. May was right. Orlando's
responsibilities lay with his family, and he only had one of those.

He would send her the money owing
her and a message that he would come when he was able, perhaps in the summer.

But summers were a busy time with
cargo-laden ships coming and going, and autumn would be little better. Indeed,
most of the year would be busy, and Orlando planned on being as involved as
possible. There would be no growing bored this time, no retreating to alehouses
and wenches for amusement. He would do his utmost to help his brother. It was
the least he could do.

He thought about what Susanna
would say and how she would look when she read his letter. A shudder wracked
him and he scrubbed his hands down his face. His whole body groaned with an
ache so deep it hurt worse than any wound he'd ever received.

Why did doing the right thing feel
so utterly and miserably wrong?

***

"You're a difficult man to
catch," Rafe Fletcher said, snatching the paperwork out of Orlando's hand.
He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere in the warehouse. Or perhaps not
nowhere. Orlando had been too intent on checking his customer's order to notice
him.

"What brings you here on
this freezing afternoon?" Orlando asked, taking the papers back.

"You promised me we'd go for
a drink."

"I haven't forgotten."
He waved in two dock workers carrying a crate between them and indicated they
should deposit it with the others stacked against the far wall. He dipped the
pen into the inkwell on his small desk and marked the crate off his list. "I've
been busy, Rafe, but I promise I'll join you soon. Perhaps on Saturday."

Rafe removed the papers once
more. "We're going now." He beckoned Orlando's assistant over and
handed him the papers.

The assistant looked to Orlando.
Orlando sighed. "I'll be back later." He walked out of the warehouse
with Rafe, past the cranes and sailors and the dock workers rolling barrels and
lifting crates. It already grew dark and they would be making their way home
soon, probably while Orlando headed back to the warehouse in search of
something more to do. "One drink only," he said. "I'm very
busy."

"Too busy to have more than
one drink with an old friend? Or are your worried that going to taverns might
lead you back to your old ways?"

Orlando glanced at him sideways.
"No. I know I won't start a fight by bedding the wrong sort of woman. I
have no desire to bed any sort of woman." Except Susanna.

Hell. He hadn't thought about her
in a long time. A few minutes at least.

"Sounds like you're in dire
need of a drink after all," Rafe said.

In the Golden Mermaid's taproom
they ordered ales and sat in the corner. Most of the drinkers sang along with a
lute being played badly by a toothless old sea dog in the corner, and other men
planted kisses on wenches attempting to entice them to an upstairs room for a shilling.
Orlando shut them out, but that only led to him thinking about Susanna and what
she'd be doing. Preparing her garden for spring, no doubt. Hopefully she'd used
some of the money he'd sent her to buy more orange trees from her supplier.

Did she think of him? Did she
stay awake at night regretting her decision not to marry him as much as he
regretted not fulfilling his promise to return?

Breaking that promise clawed at
him every day.

Yet Thomas wanted him. Susanna
did not.

"So who is she?" Rafe
asked.

"What?" Orlando frowned
at his friend sitting on the stool across from him.

Rafe chuckled and shook his head.
"Who's the woman who's got you pining like a dog locked out of the
house?"

"Susanna." Orlando
groaned. "And don't talk about being locked out of houses. It brings back
bad memories."

"Susanna, eh? Tell me about
her."

"There's nothing to
tell."

"You never were a good liar,
Orlando."

"That's not what I've been
told."

Rafe folded his arms and regarded
him. "You're my friend, Orlando, and I don't like seeing you like this.
That's why I'm going to give you some advice."

"I don't want your advice
nor do I need it."

"Go back to your
Susanna."

"I am. I promised her I
would, so I am." God's truth, he would do what he could to fulfill his
promise. He had to.

"When?"

Orlando stared into his cup.
"As soon as Thomas can spare me."

"And what will you do when
you get there?"

"Help her repair her house,
her garden." He shrugged. "Whatever is needed."

"But not marry her,"
Rafe said.

"She doesn't want me."

"Doesn't she? Or does she
just want to know that you're committed to
her
and not the house? Or
that you won't turn around and blame her for trapping you into a life you may
one day find dull?"

"Know everything about women
now do you?"

"More than you, my
friend." Rafe laughed. "Never thought that'd happen, eh? You're
supposed to be the expert."

"Shut it."

"Take my advice or leave it,
I don't care. I'm just trying to help you because I don't like seeing you a
blathering mess."

Orlando straightened. "I'm
not a mess."

Rafe snorted and lifted the cup
to his lips and drank. "Thanks for the company, as miserable as it
was," he said, thumping the empty cup down on the table. "I have to
go. Write to us and we'll come visit you in the country. Lizzy would love
Hampshire. The baby too when it's born."

"Can't stay away from her
for long, can you?"

"No, nor do I want to.
That's the thing about being in love, Orlando, you don't want to stay away.
Ever. You want to be with her all the time. Every moment of every day. If
you're not holding her in your arms, you're thinking about holding her. That's
what love is. It's bloody inconvenient but there's nothing much you can do
about it, except tell her and hold her whenever you have the chance. Just
be
with her, wed or not."

Orlando closed his eyes but it
felt like the floor was shifting beneath him so he opened them again. He felt
drunk but he'd not even finished one drink. "Bloody hell."

"What?"

Orlando met his friend's steady
gaze. "You've just described how I feel." He wanted Susanna. He
wanted to live with her, be with her, love her. He couldn't imagine a life
without her. There was no point in chasing freedom when everything he wanted was
at Stoneleigh. Being without Susanna was no kind of freedom at all. It would be
a miserable hell.

Rafe slapped him on the back.
"So you're in love. I suggest you go to Susanna and tell her. If she
doesn't agree to marry you, make another arrangement that suits you both. You're
a difficult man to remove and she'll probably give in eventually." He
laughed.

"You're all kindness."

Rafe hauled him to his feet and
clasped Orlando's shoulders. "Goodbye, my friend, and don't worry. Being
in love isn't the end of the world." The hard planes of his face softened.
"Indeed, I am having the best adventure of all."

Orlando sank down onto the stool
again. "I can't leave. Thomas needs me here. I owe him."

"What happened back then was
not your fault." Rafe's voice was unusually soft but still compelling.
"Believe me, you cannot change what happened, but you should not pay for
it for the rest of your life. Your brother is a man with his own family and he
must take care of them on his own. Susanna is your family now, in all but name.
I can see it in your eyes. You hate not being with her. If I were you, I'd do whatever
it took to get her back, even if that meant letting my brother down."

"Thank you." Orlando stood
and embraced him. "Give my love to your Lizzy."

Rafe drew him away. "He's
not your responsibility any more, Orlando. Understand?" He clasped
Orlando's arm in farewell then strode off through the boisterous crowd.

Orlando followed him out some
time later with two certainties: One, he'd drunk too much, and two, Susanna was
worth any sacrifice.

***

The saplings had traveled well.
Sir Francis Carew had kindly sent three of his young orange trees when Susanna
had written of the disaster that had befallen Stoneleigh. As a favor to her
late mother, he didn't ask for anything in return. The money Orlando had sent
had bought three more from France, but they hadn't arrived yet. There'd been
enough to hire a reed-thin lad to help too.

"Ahhh," said her father
from his chair by the orange trees. "Can you smell that, my dear?"

She breathed deeply, her face
turned to the bold afternoon sun. "Spring. My favorite time of year."

"Mine too. The scent of
blossoms and new growth never fails to make me feel young again. It reminds me
of your mother," he added wistfully. "Come here, my dear, and hold
your old father's hand."

She did and followed his gaze to
the lad digging in the garden bed. He grunted a lot and sweat poured from his
brow but he kept at the task without complaint.

"He's a good worker,"
her father said.

"Yes."

"But not as good as
Holt."

"No."

Farley squinted up at her.
"You miss him."

She smiled and patted his hand.
The skin stretched across the back felt as dry and thin as an autumn leaf.
"He was a good worker, like you said."

"He was more than that to
you. Don't deny it, Susanna. I might be old, but I still have eyes and ears.
You think you hide things from me but you can't." His eyes did indeed seem
clear and clever today, as if he'd seen into her heart and knew all her
secrets. Perhaps he did.

"I don't know what you
mean." She withdrew her hand and ignored the lump lodged in her chest. It
was always there, ever since Orlando left, but it was only during the moments
when she thought about him that sadness threatened to overwhelm her.