inquiries, of discussions, and plans. Filled with strategies and thoughts of tactics. But five days without her.
Still, he could not call on her without threatening the disguise she’d fashioned for herself, could he? And she had not come to him. She had not sneaked out of the house in the dead of night to see him. A part of him was relieved that she would not put herself in danger, considering all the many things that could go wrong and lead to harm for her on the short way between their homes. Still, another, more selfish part of him wished she would do so nonetheless.
Because he needed her.
Pierce knew that now, and once all this was taken care of, he knew what he would do about it. He would find a way to persuade her to—
“What’s her name?”
Jarred from his thoughts, Pierce flinched, then inhaled a deep breath, prayed for patience, and turned around to face the rather insolent intruder into his privacy.
With her long, black hair flowing freely over her shoulders, Charlaine stood leaning casually against the doorframe of his study. Her brown eyes looked inquisitively at him, and the right corner of her mouth quirked upward in a teasing gesture. Then she moved into the room, and he knew from the sound of her feet on the polished floors that she was once again barefoot.
Albert had almost had palpitations when he’d first noticed.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Pierce asked calmly, aware that he was far from capable to deal with Charlaine’s quick wit right now.
Three days ago, his young ward had arrived rather unexpectedly from Jamaica. She’d been reluctant to leave after Peter’s death, dreading the thought of leaving behind her home and embarking on a voyage to a world that was as strange to her as those whispered of in fairy tales. Still, eventually, she’d come to realize that her home was not her home without the family she’d loved. And now, they were gone.
Peter, too.
Now, she was alone.
And so, she’d come after all.
“You can tell me her name,” Charlaine suggested with that Jamaican accent of hers, a hint of innocent curiosity in her eyes as she walked around his study, picking up things here and there, inspecting them and then setting them back down.
“Whose name?” Pierce tried to feign incomprehension.
Charlaine, however, cast him a knowing look, her large, brown eyes as watchful as he remembered them. She’d always been a lively child, filled with curiosity and thoughts of adventure, and he remembered well the daring spirit that had always urged her on. Today, a woman grown, she seemed even more insistent in her own ways. She knew who she was and what she wanted, and she would not be dissuaded.
Pierce was afraid Albert would have to learn to live with having a barefoot young woman in the house. One who spoke her mind with shocking frankness and seemed to have found utter delight in sliding down the banister of the grand staircase in the hall.
In these moments, she reminded Pierce of the young girl she’d once been, and he wondered if only by clinging to these simple joys was she able to handle the loss and grief she’d met in her young life.
“Well?” she prompted when he remained quiet.
Pierce sighed. “Caroline.”
Charlaine’s brows rose in interest. “Can I meet her?”
With shocking accuracy, his young ward knew well which questions would unsettle him the most. “That, I cannot say at present. There are…complications.”
Her brown eyes sought his as she stepped into his path, a warm smile on her face. “Do you love her?”
Pierce swallowed.
Again, Charlaine’s brows rose, only this time in understanding. “I see,” she whispered, a hint of amusement tickling her lips.
Pierce sighed. “Are you laughing about me?” he asked, chuckling.
Smiling up at him, she placed a hand on his cheek. “I would never laugh about you. After all, I want you to be happy. I hope you can believe that.”
Reaching for her hand, Pierce squeezed it gently. “Of course, I can.” He sought her gaze. “How are you doing?”
A long sigh escaped her lips as her eyes swept around the room, the look in her gaze encompassing the whole of London and perhaps even the whole of England. “This is a different place,” she whispered, and he could see that she was overwhelmed, fighting to find her bearings in a strange, new world. “But I’m happy to see you again. Peter always talked about you, and I feel as though I know you