Charlotte's Control (The Control Series) by Maggie Sims

Author:Maggie Sims [Sims, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Maggie Sims LLC
Published: 2024-03-18T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Charlotte’s autumn had been troughs of wallowing in misery, occasionally interrupted by posts from William.

She paced the library. She was beyond being calmed by the warm floral tones and fluffy throw pillows. “Dratted puppy!”

Belle lounged sideways in her chair at the tea table in the corner, one arm slung carelessly over the back of the intricately carved chairback, legs crossed and the top one swinging. She watched like the soliloquy was Shakespearean theatre, a half-smirk betraying her amusement.

“What am I to do with this?” Charlotte shook the latest letter full of cramped handwriting and the two poems at her friend. The book lay where she had tossed it on the table.

“Frame it?”

“Belle. I’m serious.”

“You’re also being silly. You needn’t do anything with that. Respond if you like, ignore it if not. You ignored his last letter.”

“But, but…”

“Exactly. You cannot, because he knows you, perhaps better than anyone.”

Charlotte flashed her a look, uncertain if Belle was comparing the rakelet to her husband. Belle’s face was expressionless, eyes following her as she roamed the room.

Belle continued, “I told you, he is a great match for you in spirit, intelligence, and in bed. I understand why you think you need to, but I maintain that you should stop fighting this and enjoy finding such a partner. This proves my point yet again. He knew just how to engage you, even if you don’t respond.”

Charlotte threw herself down across from Belle and poured more tea. “You were the one who suggested it as a fling, a-a- practice!”

“That would have worked, too, had you not fallen for the puppy. When you did, I adjusted my advice accordingly.”

“Convenient.” Charlotte pressed her lips together, irritated more at herself than Belle for allowing William to continue to affect her this much. “Belle, I cannot. That girl meant no harm, but we must have an end date given my barrenness. And I was devastated. I have no desire to go through another loss—worse, one of my own doing.”

Belle arched a brow, recognizing what Charlotte knew. Her reaction at the end of summer said she already had.

“I understand your concern, dearest,” Belle said, patting her hand. “But you’ve said yourself, you wish to wed again, you want to find someone to spend your life with and enjoy intellectual pursuits with. Why not him? The rakelet has made you cry and laugh just through letters. There aren’t many aristocrats out there who would spend that amount of time or effort.”

Charlotte recalled his letter with the poem on grief. She'd been sniffling by the end of it, silent tears streaming down her cheeks as she reread his words about losing her forever. A small, mean part of her was a tiny bit glad he was as miserable as she was. But more, the maturity to read that and empathize with her loss impressed her. He was so often lighthearted and playful but then surprised her with his thoughtfulness and perception.

Then the more recent letter with overt references to a threesome. He

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