Charlotte didn’t say a word, but compassion filled her expression. “If it pains you, we need not talk of it.”

  “No,” he said, surprising himself. “Ask your questions. I want you to know the hard truths about me.” They began walking again.

  Charlotte’s brow furrowed. “Very well. How long did you and Nellie know each other before you married?”

  “Three months.” Saying the words aloud, Alec realized the boulder of grief that had carved a canyon through his insides was no longer a boulder. A large stone, maybe. But not a boulder.

  She thought for a moment. “Do you wish you had courted her for a longer period of time?”

  He watched as a maple tree littered the ground up ahead with leaves. “I wish we’d become acquainted under different circumstances. In Philadelphia’s social whirlwind, I was out of my element. It was busy, chaotic. Nellie and I were never truly alone. Soon after our wedding, we discovered there was much about each other we didn’t know. Things we should have talked about but hadn’t.”

  She cocked her head. “Such as?”

  “She believed my role as a doctor would be more like her father’s position at the university, with regular hours. I hadn’t thought about how hard it would be for her to move away from the only home she’d ever known.”

  He glanced down at Charlotte, discovering the full weight of her attention upon him. For someone who enjoyed talking as much as she did, she made an excellent listener. She not only listened but seemed to soak in everything he said. It made it easy to confide in her.

  “Nellie was shocked, I think, to discover what a humble background I’d come from. We’d discussed it, of course, but seeing it for herself was an entirely different matter.”

  Alec still remembered Nellie’s dismay when she’d discovered the reality of their living situation. A two-bedroom cabin when she was accustomed to a spacious town house with ample staff. He couldn’t forget the tide of inadequacy that had flooded over him as he’d witnessed her disappointment.

  Charlotte tightened her grip on his arm, bringing him back to the present, grounding him. It surprised him to realize she was well acquainted with his circumstances—his demanding schedule, his modest cabin, the simplicity of his existence.

  And she didn’t seem frightened by it.

  “My parents had an arranged marriage,” she said, veering the conversation away from his troubled past. Though Alec had meant what he’d said about wanting to discuss difficult things, he appreciated the way Charlotte had of sensing his limits.

  “And is their marriage a happy one?”

  She smiled. “Very. Though, I imagine no matter how long or short a couple’s acquaintance, marriage always comes with a set of surprises.”

  He looked ahead to the curve in the path as it followed the river. “You’re probably right.”

  “Fortunately, some surprises reveal themselves before marriage,” Charlotte said. She swallowed hard. “Did you know I was engaged once? A little over two years ago.”

  Why the revelation caught him so off guard, Alec wasn’t sure. Charlotte was a beautiful and titled woman with a depth of character few could match. The only true surprise was how she’d managed to elude marriage thus far. But even still, something like jealousy wedged in his gut. “Will you tell me about it?”

  Her gaze grew distant, as if she were remembering another time, another place. “Lord Seymour was handsome and charming, a tease, and the heir to one of England’s most powerful earldoms, so you can imagine my surprise when he showed interest in pursuing a courtship with me. I was young and impressionable and, to be honest, flattered. I thought myself the luckiest young woman in the world.”

  Alec steeled himself against what was coming.

  “One month later he asked me to marry him, and he was so persuasive that I said yes, despite the unsettled feeling I had.” She looked up at Alec, as if worried he’d judge her.

  “What happened?” he asked. All he wanted to know was how things had ended between them. And if this Lord Seymour had broken her heart.

  “The unsettled feeling persisted. I continued to ignore it, caught up in his charm and flattery.” She frowned. “I chose instead to indulge in the ton’s reassurances that we were the perfect match, uniting his future earldom with the dukedom I’d one day inherit.

  “When I finally found the courage to call off our engagement, Philip was furious. He claimed that not only was I breaking his heart but that by ending things between us, I would ruin his reputation and turn Society against him. But within a week he had another young woman on his arm.” Charlotte’s laugh carried a bitter undertone. “It was my reputation that suffered. The gossip was relentless, the rumors unending.”

  Even as his muscles tensed, Alec stayed quiet, letting her continue.

  “None of what was said was true, of course. But Philip did nothing to curb the gossip or defend my reputation.”

  Guilt reared its head at the things she’d overheard him say.

  She nodded on an exhale. “In the days after our broken engagement, I learned that Philip had acquired a mistress shortly after proposing to me and that he had heavy gambling debts, ones he’d hoped to discharge with my dowry.”

  Anger boiled in Alec at this man who had injured Charlotte. Charlotte, with her gracious, generous heart. She’d forgiven Alec and extended her friendship even though the apology he’d offered had been stilted at best. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft.

  “Oh, I’m well enough now.” Her gaze shifted toward him, sadness etched in her eyes. “I consider myself lucky to have avoided marriage to a man such as that.”

  Alec stopped, reaching for Charlotte and bringing her around to face him. “No, I’m sorry for the words I spoke the night we met. I hurt you.”

  She blinked once, twice.

  “I had no right. You reminded me of Nellie in so many ways, and I . . .” There was more, but it wasn’t meant for here and now. “I lashed out,” he finished. “I’m sorry for it.”

  She swallowed and lowered her gaze. “Thank you.”

  He took her arm in his again, wanting her to finish the story. When she said nothing more, he said, “I’m not sure I understand . . . what could people possibly have found to criticize in you? You did nothing wrong.”

  Her mouth tightened. “There were rumors that Lord Seymour had used and discarded me. That I hadn’t been woman enough to keep his attention.” She exhaled, looking skyward. “It became so bad that I left London mid-Season and haven’t yet found the courage to return.”

  “Indeed,” Alec murmured, fury growing toward a man he’d never met. One whose selfishness had caused a world of pain to the woman at Alec’s side. If ever he did happen to cross paths with Lord Seymour, that man would feel the full force of Alec’s years of blacksmithing.

  But his anger wouldn’t erase the pain in Charlotte’s eyes. And he very much wanted to erase it. “You have my attention, Charlotte,” he said quietly.

  Her lips parted as understanding slowly dawned. She blushed, her cheeks turning a soft pink.

  In that moment, Alec felt certain of the decision he’d made to court this woman. Charlotte was goodness and light and beauty. She had a way of making him feel whole and accepted, despite his many flaws. And he was determined that when she was with him, she’d never have cause to question whether she was enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Charlotte walked in the front door and nearly melted onto the floor.

  “Do I have permission to court you, Charlotte?”

  This morning she’d not have believed it possible to hear such words come from Alec Galloway’s mouth. But as she floated up the stairs, her arms tingling with disbelieving joy and her stomach a whirr of happy nerves, she reveled in it.

  And she continued to revel. In every single beautiful moment:

  On Sunday morning, when he took the seat beside her during church and sought out her hand within the folds of her dress.

  On Monday, when he shocked them all by accompanying them to the theater. Though Charlotte couldn’t have said which performance they’d attended or what it was about, she could unequivocally say that the production was her favorite of the season thus far.

  On Tuesday, when Alec asked Charlotte to join him on a walk and surprised her by bringing the pig, whom he introduced as Jambe de Bois. With its stitches fully healed and its limp less pronounced, the creature had them laughing with its antics as Alec told her the story behind the pig’s name.

  On Thursday evening, when they’d stolen a moment for themselves after dinner and Alec had invited Charlotte and Harriet to breakfast the following morning so he could introduce them to Vera.

  Back in the coziness of his cabin this October morning, Charlotte looked around the space, surprised and pleased to note small changes here and there. Alec’s recently smoked pipe lay atop the mantel. The book of music and poetry she’d purchased for him rested on a small table near his wing chair. A worn Bible sat on the corner of his desk. The cabin, though still clean, looked lived in.

  Vera greeted them briefly from her position near the stove, mixing batter, frying bacon, and peeling apples. The small table was set with a mismatched set of plates and utensils, a cup filled with wildflowers resting in the center. To Charlotte, the simplistic beauty of it surpassed the elegant place settings found in London’s wealthiest homes.

  When Vera had a stack of pancakes nearly a foot high, she called everyone to the table. Alec helped each woman into her respective chair and then bowed his head to bless the food. With his hand grasping hers beneath the table and the low rumble of his voice thanking the Lord, a quiet joy filled Charlotte’s heart.

  To her surprise, Harriet and Vera became fast friends. Harriet grumbled about the goings-on at Glen Haven and Vera soaked up the gossip, making her own contributions to Harriet’s pile of complaints. While they talked, Alec stacked Charlotte’s plate high with pancakes, adding a pat of butter and giving her a generous portion of maple syrup.

  Partly because she knew her curiosity amused him and partly because she was curious, Charlotte began asking about the maple syrup and where it came from.

  “Try a bite,” he urged between questions about the sugaring off.

  Charlotte’s mouth closed around the fork, and she found it difficult to suppress a moan. The pancake was fluffy, the syrup an unfamiliar sort of sweet, and the bacon added the perfect pinch of savory to balance it out. “Will you pass the syrup, please?” she asked.

  Alec handed her the jar, pleased by her obvious enjoyment. “Are you planning to take home an entire trunk of this as well?”

  As always, any mention of her return home left her with an unsettled feeling. The two of them had never spoken of it directly, and she feared broaching the topic.

  “I just might,” she said, trying to keep things light. She suspected she could grow as addicted to maple syrup as she was growing to Alec’s company.

  As they conversed, Harriet was surprised and pleased to find that Vera had Welsh roots. Vera told stories about Alec’s father and grandfather. And through the whole of it, Charlotte and Alec shared a conversation not of words, but of the tiniest of looks, a hidden smile, a toe tap under the table.

  By the time they were on their way home, Charlotte felt as if she might burst, either from too many pancakes or an excess of happiness—she wasn’t sure which.

  “Harriet?” She paused, hesitant to ask. “What do you . . . do you like Dr. Galloway?”

  Harriet pursed her lips. “He’s a good man.” From her, such words were a glowing endorsement.

  Charlotte’s jaw dropped a little. “You mean to say you approve of him? Of us?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief from her tone. “I thought for certain you’d object, if only on the grounds that he’s an American.”

  “Well, I didn’t like your father or his Scottishness at first, but I’ve come to overlook that deficiency. Besides, Dr. Galloway is an excellent doctor.”

  “You didn’t like my father?” Charlotte couldn’t imagine such a thing. Harriet loved Father. She would do anything for him. Her presence here in America was proof enough of that.

  “I didn’t. At first. But that was long ago.”

  Her comment reminded Charlotte of her father’s unfinished journal on her bedside table. Every day had been bustling with activity, every night booked with some event or another, and though her favorites were the quiet evenings when Alec came to dinner, she was enjoying all of it. Even if it meant the journal sat unopened, waiting for an evening when her eyes didn’t shut before her head touched the pillow.

  The first weeks of October flew by. The blazing leaves began to turn brittle, the days shortened, and the temperature dropped, but Charlotte felt certain that even the most maudlin months of winter would feel like spring with Alec in her life. With him courting her, the simple act of breathing had somehow become more wonderful. Fuller. Fresher. The air in her lungs imbued with a life and joy that for her had previously not existed.

  Charlotte hadn’t known it was possible to be this happy.

  She hadn’t known that a simple act of faith as she’d boarded that ship to cross the Atlantic could lead to this. And as the days passed, she grew more and more certain that she’d been meant to come to America.

  For the first time in her life, what her parents had felt within reach. A love with tenderness and trust, consideration and certainty. And passion. She felt it swirling within her, and she saw it in the way Alec’s eyes sometimes darkened when he looked at her.

  Though he still, in all these weeks, hadn’t kissed her.

  But she didn’t push him. Every moment she spent with Alec her love for him expanded, its roots growing deeper. He listened to her talk about Clara’s hunger for knowledge and, when Charlotte asked, gave suggestions for how to help her progress. They discussed her newfound passion for women’s education and how she could best champion such a cause back home. They debated political issues. They argued over whether having a monarch or a president was superior.

  But Alec never made Charlotte feel as though her opinions were unwanted or unwelcome. With him, she never felt as though her thoughts and feelings were too big or too much.

  And he made her feel as though being Charlotte, just Charlotte, was enough.

  With him, the person she hoped to become didn’t seem so far out of reach. The many responsibilities she’d one day inherit didn’t feel quite so heavy. And her future as the Duchess of Edinbane didn’t seem so daunting. At least, not when she imagined him by her side.

  That was what she hoped and longed for.

  In the back of her mind remained a feeling of dread as she wondered if he could possibly love her enough to be willing to make a life with her in Scotland. The thought of anything else . . . threatened to shatter her happiness.

  So she chose not to think of it. Instead, she focused on enjoying their every moment together, giving him the time he’d told her he needed. And she hoped and prayed that as their courtship progressed, everything would all come right.

  * * *

  Alec soaked up his time with Charlotte like a plant long denied water. The brush of her arm against his, the dimple in her cheek assuring him the touch was not accidental. A quiet conversation on the Maganns’ sofa in the hours after dinner, discussing everything from British and American laws to her uncertainties in her future role as duchess to the cat she’d had as a child.

  Courting her, he experienced the full force of her determination, for she was intent on the two of them sharing everything. She held nothing back and she expected the same of him. It had been hard for him at first. The vast majority of his thirty-four years he had lived alone, accustomed to a self-sufficiency that hadn’t lent itself well to companionship.

  He had a strange fear of revealing too much of himself, of reaching a point, like he had with Nellie, where Charlotte would learn too much and find him unworthy.

  But she asked him about his research, about the recent outbreak in cases of scarlet fever, about the poems he’d read, about his time in medical school and the years after his grandfather’s death. She listened to everything he said and paid close attention to what he didn’t.

  She made Alec feel known in a way he’d never experienced.

  As the weeks went by, he found himself telling Charlotte things he’d never shared with anyone. A case that weighed heavily upon him, the devastation he’d felt at his father’s death and it being the reason he’d so badly wanted to become a doctor. And Alec experienced the same kind of hunger with Charlotte. He wanted to know everything about her—about her parents and her sister, Iseabel, her love for Scotland, her dreams for the future.

  Most of all, he wanted to know if there was a place for him in that future. He struggled with the thought of leaving behind everything he’d ever known. How was he to make such a decision—to break with the place that had shaped and formed him into who he was? To leave behind his cabin, where he’d been raised and where he’d grown into a man? To abandon his ever-growing practice and everyone he held dear?

  He dared not initiate such a conversation with Charlotte, fearing he’d raise her hopes only to break her heart. So instead, he sought out Tavish. He learned that because Charlotte would hold the title of duchess suo jure, her future husband would have no title, which suited Alec just fine. What he learned about the possibility of continuing his work as a doctor was more disheartening.

  “I’ll be honest with ye,” Tavish told him. “Charlotte’s family has a history of peculiarity. Her grandmother was a lowborn Scottish commoner, and her father, rather than snubbing his roots, embraced them. So no, I do nae think Charlotte would ask ye tae give up yer profession if ye married her.” His mouth was marred by a faint frown. “But the societal constraints in Britain are much stricter than they are here. And as a woman with a title, Charlotte will be under severe scrutiny. I imagine if ye married her and continued yer work as a doctor as ye do now, it would nae reflect well on her.”