Page 104 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
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He hadn’t toldher yet but Waylon had. Charlene had gotten it out of her brother.
Not about the conversation with her father and the way her brother’s hand had clapped his shoulder with quiet approval.
She only knew one thing—he needed to see her, and she couldn’t wait anymore to see him, when Charlene stood amidst her beloved greenhouse, her hands lightly brushing the delicate fronds of a maidenhair fern. The damp, earthy scent of the room wrapped around them like an unwilling witness, protective yet quiet. Adam watched her from the doorway, his presence stark against the verdant oasis she called her sanctuary.
“You should not have come,” Charlene said without turning, her voice tight as she busied herself trimming a healthy bloom.
“I should not have stayed away all year,” Adam replied, his steady voice carrying over the space between them. “You were hiding here all that time, in pain, and I was useless…” He reached into his waistcoat. “I couldn’t even give you this meagre apology that I knew you deserved all along. You deserve better than me, than any of this. And yet, if you allow me, I’d like to work all of my life to live up to all you ought to have.”
She turned then, her green eyes sharp, though misted with something she tried desperately to hide. “Staying away does not suit you. You’re the duke! Orchids are not built for retreat.”
Adam froze, the faintest line of confusion crossing his features. “What?”
“You heard me,” Charlene huffed, crossing her arms. “You’ve always been an orchid. A magnificent bloom demanding the brightest sun, tall and pristine for all the world to admire. Meanwhile…” She trailed off, looking away, her lips trembling before she managed, “Meanwhile, I am a fern. Something small, tucked under the canopy, needing shade, hiding because I have no choice!”
“That’s what you think?” Adam stepped closer, his boots crunching on the gravel pathway. “That I’ve stood tall simply to hold my head high while you’ve suffered, all alone?” His voice cracked slightly, the pain in his tone unmistakable.
“WhatamI supposed to think?” Her voice rose, and she blinked back tears. “No one understands! Not truly. Not like you, and yet here you are, day after day, keeping the weight of the world steady on your shoulders as if I am some… some responsibility!”
“Charlene, you are not my responsibility,” he said firmly.
You are my love! My heart! My everything!
Her breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, hope flickered across her face, only to be crushed by heavy resignation. “What, then?” she whispered, biting her lip. “Why else would you have shielded me from scandal? Why else but to preserve me for your own convenience?”
Adam stared at her, disbelief warring with indignation. “For my convenience?” The edges of his voice softened, and his gaze bored into hers. “Do you truly believe I would waste my efforts keeping the wolves at bay for something as selfish as that?”
“You did not deny it,” she countered, her voice breaking. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she turned her face away, as though too ashamed to look at him.
Adam closed the distance between them, his hand reaching tenderly for her chin, forcing her eyes back to his. “I didn’t deny it,” he murmured, his voice low like the rumble of distant thunder, “because I’ve been waiting for you to trust me enough to see the truth.”
Charlene’s breath caught, her tears now unbridled. “And what is the truth, Adam? Tell me, because I’m so tired. I’m so tired of not knowing what I can trust.”
He cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing against the delicate trail of tears on her cheeks. “The truth, dearest Charlene, is that I have only acted for one reason. Because I admire you. Your strength. Your fire. And, yes, your ability to hide in the shadows when the world grows too cruel.” His voice turned softer, utterly vulnerable. “Charlene, you are no fern because you are fragile. You are a fern because of what they are at their core. Ferns uncurl slowly from their tight, snail-like buds, as if they are testing the world one careful inch at a time. They endure, Charlene. They stay green through driving rain, cold winds, and all the cruelty nature can offer. When orchids fade in their damp little environments, ferns remain steadfast, faithful.” He stepped closer, his voice softening, yet filled with conviction. “That’s what I admire most about you. Your resilience. You know what is true. What is worth protecting. That is beauty, Charlene. That is what the Ton will never understand. And that is why you’re the woman this duke needs at his side.”
Her tears fell faster now, and Adam leaned in, pressing his lips to the wetness streaming down her skin. He kissed her tears away, one by one, until his lips hovered just a breath from hers.
“Say you’ll believe me,” he whispered, his voice like a string about to snap. “Say you’ll see what has been clear to me from the very beginning—that you are my everything, and I have never wished to be a savior. Just a man worthy of standing at your side.”
Charlene’s trembling fingers reached for him, folding into the lapels of his coat, as though anchoring herself to the promise he laid bare before her. “I’ve misunderstood you, then?” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“Look at me now,” he murmured. “Do you seeme, Charlene? Adam, who helped you fill this raised bed with soil. Who gave you seeds for your thirteenth birthday because that was what you truly wanted, not ribbons and watercolors.”
“That was you,” she whispered.
“Thatisme!”
Her gaze lifted slowly to his, and in the green depths of her eyes, reflected in the soft glow of the sunlight filtering through the greenhouse glass, Adam saw it. Belief. Her lips brushed against his, tentative and trembling, yet soft as a sigh.
“Yes,” she breathed, “I see you now.”
Adam’s arms wrapped around her then, pulling her flush against him as the walls she’d built crumbled around them both. Their kiss deepened, their breaths mingling, and for the first time, Charlene felt truly seen—not as the ruin the world called her, but as the woman Adam cherished beyond reason.
And somehow a fern and an orchid managed to come together.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
