Page 82 of Touched By a Traitor
A deep furrow appeared between Madam’s brows, and she reached into her pocket to retrieve a delicate lace kerchief, dabbing at her eyes with a trembling hand. “Oh, Andrew. Theproudest day of my life was when you learned to read. Do you remember? You were such a bright boy, with a heart so full of honor and a desire to do what was right. I feared that your wealth and success might have led you astray, but I see now that I was wrong. Today, my dear, is the second proudest day of my life. I am truly blessed to call you my son.”
Overwhelmed, Andrew crossed the room in a few long strides, gathering Madam into his arms and holding her close. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent that had always meant comfort and safety to him, even in his darkest moments.
“Ma,” he whispered, his voice choked with tears. “Do you think she could ever find it in her heart to forgive me?”
Madam rubbed soothing circles on his back, her voice soft and reassuring. “I cannot say for certain, my darling. But you must try. You must fight for her.”
Andrew released her then, his head bowed once more, but this time, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I miss her so much. But I fear seeing her now would only cause her more pain.”
Madam nodded, her expression one of understanding. “I agree, my dear. The hurt is still too raw, the memories too fresh. Give her time. I will tell her how wretched you looked, though I must say, your suit is quite dashing.”
A faint smile graced Andrew’s features, the first since Charlotte’s departure. “Hereford has agreed to oversee the company and manage the finances for the charity,” he said.
“Ah, Lord Hereford. I’ve always liked that man.”
“Indeed. I have no doubt he will excel in his duties.”
Madam studied Andrew’s face, her eyes searching his. “And what of you, my dear? What will you do once the ownership is transferred?”
Andrew sighed, rubbing his face. “In truth, I don’t know. So much depends on whether Charlotte will allow me back into her life when all is said and done. Perhaps I will travel, see the world while I nurse my wounds, and try to find my way back to the man I once was.”
Madam reached out, taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You are a good man, Andrew Creswell, and I have every faith that you will find your way back to happiness, back to the woman who holds your heart.”
With a final, grateful embrace, Andrew took his leave, his steps heavy but his heart lightened by the knowledge that Charlotte was not lost to him completely.
Daisy’s Wedding
21 April 1837
The church buzzedwith excitement as the wedding party gathered, awaiting the bride’s entrance. Lord Bridgewater stood stoically at the altar, resplendent in his white suit and purple cravat.
Andrew, surprised by the grand scale of the celebration, felt grateful for his sister’s acceptance of her groom. His mind, however, was preoccupied with thoughts of Charlotte. The past month had been agonizing, each moment an eternity of suffering. Nights were the worst, haunted by memories of her smile, her laughter, and the crushing reality of her absence.
As Andrew paced restlessly, the church doors swung open. He turned, his breath catching as his eyes met Charlotte’s. For a moment, time stood still, the world fading away, leaving only them and their shared memory. When at last the spell was broken, Andrew found himself struggling to find his voice, his tongue heavy and clumsy in his mouth. “Good morning,” he managed, bowing stiffly as she curtsied before him.
“My lord,” she replied, her voice soft and tentative. “I apologize if my presence comes as a surprise. Daisy was kind enough to extend an invitation, and I found myself quite unable to refuse.”
“Of course, you are most welcome,” he said, his eyes observing the dark circles under her eyes and her form, which appeared even more delicate than before.
“I ought to find my seat,” she said, her eyes evading his.
Andrew nodded toward a nearby footman instead of escorting Charlotte himself, a silent signal that he was aware of her discomfort around him. He watched as she made her way to her seat, greeting the footman with a smile that sent a spike of jealousy through his heart. Her proximity set every nerve alight with longing so intense he thought he might go blind.
He fought to keep his gaze from straying to where she sat, knowing that the sight of her would only serve to deepen the ache in his chest. Yet, he could not help but be aware of her, his senses attuned to her every movement, every shift of attention.
Forcing himself to focus on the ceremony ahead, Andrew turned as the sound of approaching footsteps drew him from his tortured reverie. He saw his sister descending the stairs, her bridal attendants trailing carefully behind her. Daisy’s face was lined with nervous excitement, her smile tremulous as she met her brother’s gaze. Andrew forced himself to return the smile, though he feared it came across as more of a grimace, a poor facsimile of the joy he knew he ought to feel on this momentous occasion.
As Daisy reached the bottom of the stairs, Andrew extended his hand, clasping hers tightly in his own. “How are you faring, my dear?”
“I am well, Andrew. Truly.” Daisy searched his face, her brow furrowing slightly. “But what of you? You look quite shaken.”
Andrew swallowed hard, fighting to maintain his composure in the face of his sister’s gentle inquiry. “I am fine. Please, do not trouble yourself on my account.”
A look of understanding passed over Daisy’s features, her eyes softening with sympathy. “I take it you have seen Charlotte, then?”
“I have. A bit of warning might have been appreciated.”
Daisy’s face fell, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Andrew, I am so sorry. I wanted her here, to share in my happiness. I was uncertain if she would come.”
