Page 15 of Charlotte's Story
“Firth is my middle name and it’s what I decided to go by when I became a pastor because Lady Catherine preferred it.” He shifted his weight, then rubbed the side of his neck twice before clasping his hands tightly in front of him. “But I’d love it ifyoucalled me William. It feels more proper for a wife to call a husband by his first name.”
I stared at the snow-covered sidewalk. Calling him by his first name wasn’t too much considering we were married, but it felt like something he was only saying because of his amnesia, especially since he’d never mentioned it before. He might’ve forgotten that this was just a business arrangement, but he’d remember soon enough, and I didn’t want the lines to blur. “Where are you going?”
He adjusted his sweater twice before answering. “I was just making my way home when I spotted you.”
“Were you able to uncover any more information at the station?”
“I wasn’t very helpful since my memories of the last few months are still pretty blank.” He ran a finger along his cuff. “I’msure they’ll come back soon, but until then, I’d prefer to stick with you. You make me feel better.”
I let the silence settle between us, not quite sure what he wanted me to say. “Here.” I thrust the bag with the peppermint bites at him. “You can have these.”
His eyebrows lifted, and he didn’t reach for the bag right away. “You’re giving that to me?”
“Yes, I am.”
He accepted it carefully, then glanced inside. “I’m pleased you knew these were my favorites.”
“They are?”
“Yes, thank you for buying them for me.”
Dang it. How had I known that? Had William’s likes and dislikes been sinking into me without me even realizing it? I shook my head and started walking again.
He smiled and took a bite, falling into step beside me. He was smiling far too much. He seemed less like the Mr. Collins I’d made the deal with and more like a complete stranger—one who reminded me a bit too much of my terrible ex.
For a few minutes, we walked in blessed silence while he ate.
“Where are you headed?” he asked after he finished.
“To the Museum of Regrets.” I folded my arms in front of my chest.
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Ashford, the victim’s uncle, owns it, and he might know what she was doing at your house last night.”
William’s hand returned to his cuff. The familiar motion was reassuring, showing that not all of him had disappeared. “You meanourhouse.”
“Um, sure.”
“So you’re investigating for me?” He smiled. “You are quite brave.”
“I’m not brave. I just don’t like leaving things unsettled, and not knowing what happened last night is going to drive me nuts.”
“Still, I appreciate you trying to do something for me.” His fingers hovered for a moment as if drumming the air, then he tentatively brushed the back of my hand.
Nope. I wouldn’t let a few soft words and a wardrobe upgrade sway me. No butterflies. No romance. That was the deal we made, and I didn’t need him changing the rules on me now.
I pulled my hand away.
He blinked, a hint of confusion passing over his face before he nodded. He stopped outside Mansfield Book Haven. “Would you mind waiting a minute?”
“Okay, sure.”
He walked into the store, but was back barely a minute later, a book tucked under his arm.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
He cocked his head to the side. “It’s for the victim’s uncle. I’m not supposed to visit a grieving person without bringing a gift of some kind.”
