Her strident denunciation chilled Wyatt. Didn’t she care what Sasha heard? He covered the girl’s ears as the debate heated up.
“She’s a darling little girl,” Nettie protested, “and Charlotte loves her dearly. I for one hope she gets to keep her.”
Miss Ward’s already taut expression got even tighter. “No one will keep any of the lot. They’re dirty little urchins.” She lifted a handkerchief to her nose as if the stench overwhelmed her.
“They’re just children who need to be loved. Why, if our house wasn’t in such disrepair, we’d take one of them.”
Miss Ward looked aghast. “None of them are staying. If not for that nonsense this morning, good Mr. Reed would have the lot of them out of here already.”
All eyes turned back to him.
Wyatt cringed. If that’s how good was measured, he wanted no part of it. He pressed his hands more tightly over Sasha’s ears. “Now is not the time to discuss this.”
“Sasha, what are you doing?” Charlotte Miller ran into the dining room, and he could tell by the look on her face that she’d heard every appalling word that Miss Ward had uttered. He also saw gratitude there. For him.
The thought strangely warmed him.
She moved close to the table, her cheeks flushed and her light hazel eyes shining. “Thank you.” It came out in a whisper.
My, she was beautiful. He couldn’t take his gaze off her perfectly proportioned features. The brows that arched in exact crescents. Her dainty nose and rosy, full lips. He couldn’t help noticing how soft they looked, just like her skin. The curls peeking from her bonnet promised a stunning cascade of reddish-blond hair. Even in the stiff, black mourning dress, she shone. Her delicate hands and graceful arms fluttered to her neck in a gesture of self-consciousness and humility.
He forgot to breathe.
Then her brow puckered, and he looked down to see he still covered Sasha’s ears. He quickly removed his hands. “I don’t know why she ran to me.”
Charlotte touched her daughter’s back. “Sasha, Mr. Reed doesn’t need you on his lap when he’s trying to eat his supper.”
“It’s all right.” And truthfully it was. The little girl’s embrace did something to him. He felt alive, like he’d slept for the fourteen years since joining the army, and finally woke up. He didn’t want her to move away. And considering the way the girl burrowed deeper into his lap, there wasn’t much he could do to dislodge her, anyway.
“I’m sorry.” The color rose again in Charlotte’s cheeks. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
She glanced around the room, and he realized everyone was still watching the scene. He nodded toward the chair across the table. “Please sit.”
She wrung her hands, alternately looking at the chair and the other diners, as if afraid sitting with him would damage her reputation forever.
“I promise not to bite.” He let his lips quirk into a smile for her sake, and, if he was honest, because he wanted her to stay. Her and Sasha, who’d nestled on his lap and was playing with the fringe on his buckskin jacket.
Apparently convinced, Charlotte sank into the chair. “I don’t know what got into her. Maybe you look like her father. Does he, Sasha?”
The little girl looked up at him but didn’t answer.
Charlotte didn’t know quite what to say. Here she was, in the perfect position to lay out her proposition, and her heart was pounding through her rib cage. Of all things, Sasha had opened the door by calling him papa. How easy it would be to ask if he was willing to really be Sasha’s papa, but the words stuck in her throat.
Instead, she croaked out insignificant chatter. “I understand her parents were Russian.”
His brow furrowed. “Russian? That’s unusual, but it explains the accent.”
“And her limited vocabulary. But she’s learning new words every day. Aren’t you, Sasha?”
Naturally, the girl didn’t fully understand what she was asking, but she would. Holly had told Charlotte to read to Sasha, so that the girl would pick up the language quickly.
“I read to her each night.” Charlotte’s constricted throat began to open. It was so much easier talking about Sasha. “Maybe I should read in the morning, too, but there are so many things to do. Breakfast to fix, water to pump, coal to haul inside—” She halted, realizing she was blathering.
“You haul coal?” Wyatt looked outraged.
“Well, Charles did, but since he—” She couldn’t bring herself to say died in front of Sasha. “Well, I have to do it now.”
His gaze narrowed. “No one helps you out?”
“When they can.” She fussed with her gloves rather than look him in the eye. “But I hate to ask them to take time out of their busy days.”
He barely hesitated. “I can help.”
She stared at him, shocked.
“While I’m here,” he amended. “I’ll make sure your scuttle is full.”
“Thank you.” She ducked her head. Again, the perfect opportunity. Again, her heart pounded through her chest. She licked her lips. “I wonder if...”
“If what?”
The words caught in her throat. “If...if...”
A commotion at the door halted conversations and drew everyone’s attention.
“Charlotte! I’m so glad you’re here.” Holly burst into the room with Mason right behind her. “I have something wonderful to tell you, to tell everyone.”
“That’s right,” boomed Mason with the broadest grin she’d ever seen cross that man’s face.
Holly fairly bounced, her smile so wide it would light up the night sky. “We’re getting married tomorrow morning.” She pressed her hands to her face as if in disbelief.
“You heard the lady.” Mason pulled her closer, if that was possible. “We’re getting hitched at ten o’clock, and you’re all invited.”
The room erupted into congratulations, and everyone except Beatrice converged on the couple. The men shook Mason’s hand roundly. The women hugged Holly and said they’d known all along that Mason would come to his senses. Sasha squealed and slid off Wyatt’s lap to hand Holly the bedraggled forget-me-not that she’d plucked on the way to the hotel. “For you, Miffanders.” Sasha couldn’t quite pronounce Miss Sanders.
Charlotte wiped away a tear and struggled to hide the terrible envy that swelled inside her. Holly was her friend. She should be happy for her. She’d known this day was coming. They were perfect for each other. Then why this horrible feeling? It wasn’t right or good.
“Oh, Holly, I’m so happy for you.” She hugged her friend and managed a wide, tearful smile that she hoped would pass for joy.
Holly squeezed her tightly before stepping back with a grin. “Your turn will come. Have faith.”
Except that sometime during the confusion, Wyatt had slipped out of the room.
Charlotte panicked and grabbed Sasha’s hand. She needed to catch him before he disappeared upstairs, but Holly wasn’t finished.
“And, well...” Holly bit her lip. “I hope you don’t mind that I asked Rebecca to stand up with me. I didn’t want to keep you from Sasha.”
Charlotte’s mind whirled. That was the least of her concerns. She reassured Holly that she was delighted Rebecca would do the honor, all the while looking for Wyatt.
“Speaking of