of the smaller structures remained in charred ruins but much of the debris was long gone and new construction was taking shape nicely. Charlotte had heard all about the fire that nearly put an end to the village forever but hadn’t been in the area when it occurred. A tremor ran through her as she imagined flames claiming an entire village.
Mrs. Gibson, the Denton’s housekeeper, had told her it was thanks to Lord Mapleton that the village wouldn’t sit idle for the winter. He must be a powerful landowner, indeed.
A caring and powerful one.
When he’d lifted her onto the vehicle, Charlotte had nearly swooned.
Swooned! A word she’d never considered before in relation to her own state of being.
It was just that he’d lifted her so effortlessly. His clean male scent reminded her of another time in her life, of an elegant library her father had once taken her to visit. The earl had smelled of leather and wood, but something spicy too.
And she’d enjoyed the sensation of being considered and protected. It was nice not to struggle against the onerous height of the carriage.
Other men had touched her before, and she’d experienced a most opposite sort of reaction. She’d not liked being touched without permission.
But Lord Mapleton… A shiver danced down her spine.
She’d best not allow him to assist her to the ground. No. She’d hop off at her own volition. Land on her own two perfectly useful feet.
And so, before he or Miss Fairchild could rise, Charlotte shot off the bench. She practically threw herself out of the vehicle.
Oh, dear, they had been two perfectly useful feet when she’d first climbed on. Upon landing, she realized her knees had turned decidedly weak.
But she did not fall. No. Sheer willpower drove her to steady herself and wait patiently while the other two occupants descended in a much more graceful fashion. Lord Mapleton glanced at her curiously, but Miss Fairchild’s face remained blank.
“I’ll wait in the pastry shop while Drake assists you with my gift.”
Miss Fairchild could not be serious. Could she? And yet she was gesturing across the road.
“Oh, but Miss Fairchild, your mother will have conniptions if I leave you alone. I couldn’t…” But Miss Fairchild dismissed Charlotte’s concerns.
“You’ll only be a moment. It’s not as though I’ll be far away.” And without another word Miss Fairchild lifted her chin stubbornly and then stepped into the road. Lord Mapleton, appearing equally chagrined as Charlotte felt, dashed after Miss Fairchild leaving Charlotte to take in her surrounding alone.
The haberdasher, dressmaker and linen shop existed together as one storefront and exhibited some of its more fashionable items in the modern window displays. Blanchard’s Mercantile offered variety as well as convenience. In addition to ladies’ apparel and accessories, they boasted men’s apparel, small furnishings, candles, and scents.
But what could Charlotte do? If she were to follow Miss Fairchild to the pastry shop, she’d be defying her mistress’ wishes out right. And yet, if Lady Denton discovered she’d left Susan alone, even for just a few minutes… Charlotte did not wish to dwell upon such a scenario.
She bit her bottom lip and folded her arms in front of her as Lord Mapleton disappeared with Miss Fairchild into the pastry shop. After just a few moments he reappeared, dashed across the road once again, and offered Charlotte his arm.
She should not take it. She should follow behind him. Shouldn’t she?
But her hand felt safe and natural in the crook of his elbow. And this close she could inhale his scent deeply. The desire to swoon assaulted her again but she shook it off. He’s an earl, Charlotte. And you are a mere servant!
The two of them stepped into the store to the clanging of bells cleverly placed so that they would not fail to draw the shopkeeper’s attention.
“My dear Lord Mapleton!” An elderly man with rolled up shirtsleeves greeted her escort warmly. “Making purchases for this lovely lady today?”
“Oh but…” Her coat covered her drab gown, if not her unflattering mob cap. Of course, she would be mistaken for a lady, hanging upon the earl’s arm as she was.
“I am indeed, Mr. Blanchard. And a few other purchases I’ve put off too long.”
The owner smiled in Charlotte’s direction. “He does this every year. At least he’s brought help this time. Last Christmas he required the opinions of at least three of my other customers before settling upon gifts for his mother and sister. I’ve no doubt Lady Mapleton and Lady Daphne appreciate the effort