How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,95

found a friend.” Looking down at the letter, he gently brushed his right thumb over Charlaine’s name, wishing with every fiber of his being that she was here.

“A friend?” Abigail shifted from one foot onto the other, curiosity coming to her gaze. “How so?”

Nathanial swallowed, remembering the dark place he had found himself in when first arriving in England. A dark place Abigail’s rejection had banished him to. “She…she was there when I needed someone,” he told her with a pointed look. “I was…angry…” His lips thinned, and he shrugged, now barely able to recall the exact emotion that had been such a constant at the time. “She helped me live again.” Was that not the essence of what she had done for him?

Abigail’s eyes dropped from his. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, a deep sigh leaving her lips before she met his gaze again. “I know it was I who caused you that pain. It was my fault, and I wish it had never happened.”

Nathanial’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. Then, however, he stilled. Did he agree? If Abigail had not broken their engagement, he might never have met Charlaine. For even if they had still met that day of his brother’s wedding celebration, the reason why she had approached him would have been nonexistent. After all, he himself would have been married to Abigail by then.

If all had gone according to plan.

But it had not.

And Nathanial could not help but think that he was glad for it.

“I would like to be your friend again,” Abigail told him, her blue eyes looking up into his. “This past fortnight has been wonderful. It felt like us again. The way we used to be, did it not?” Her hands reached for his. “We could have that again.”

Again, Nathanial nodded before he once more stopped, wondering if what she said was true.

Indeed, he had enjoyed her company this past fortnight. She had felt like a friend, but he had also come to realize that he had never truly known her. She was not the woman he remembered. She was different, freer in the way she expressed herself, without restraint, but with utter honesty. It was something Nathanial had experienced himself.

“I would like for us to be friends,” he told her honestly, returning her smile. “However, I do not believe we should strive to be who we were. Instead, we should be who we are now. We should begin anew and see where life takes us.”

Abigail beamed up at him. “I’d like that very much.”

“I would as well,” Nathanial replied as his mind strayed to Charlaine’s letter. “However, there is someone I need to see.” He smiled. “Someone I want to see.”

Chapter Forty-One

In a Fairy Tale

The rain had finally let up and so Charlaine and Emma took the girls outside for a stroll across the meadows to the west of Markham Hall. The wind tugged on their skirts, and they pulled their coats tighter around themselves.

“There are no more flowers to pick,” Susan complained as they strode onward, her brown eyes sorrowful as she looked at the fading green of the world around her. Leaves were starting to change color, painting the world in orange, red and brown; warm colors to battle the icy wind blowing in from the north.

“Autumn is here,” Emma explained, hugging her little daughter to her side. “Flowers will return in the spring. Now, you can collect leaves. See if you can find one in a dark red. Those are truly beautiful.”

Susan darted off, her little legs carrying her through the tall grass and toward a cluster of trees as she waved to Daphne up ahead.

“You look sad,” Emma observed with a sideways glance at Charlaine, her hushed voice almost swallowed by the wind. “Have you not yet received a reply?”

Charlaine sighed, offering a vague imitation of a smile. “I have not.”

“Are you worried he will not write back?” Emma asked as she pulled to a stop, her gentle, blue eyes slightly narrowed. “Was he not the one to write to you first?”

Turning toward the other woman, Charlaine nodded. “He was, but…” She sighed, pinching her eyes shut. “I might have been a bit direct in my letter.” She cracked one eye open to look at Emma. “I’m afraid he might have misunderstood me.” Her hands flew up in uncertainty. “Yes, I was angry with him, but…”

“You miss him,” Emma offered with a knowing smile.

Charlaine nodded. “I do.” Her gaze traveled over the wind-swept meadow. “It is so