An Imprudent Lady by Elaine Golden

dissociated from reality since Carlisle had delivered the calling card.
    Mr. Daniel Walsh.
    She paused before the doorway, so nervous that she thought she’d faint. Was he here to rage at her further?
    She’d been up all night reading his letters from over the years, and she knew she looked far from her best. She felt emotionally bruised and spent, but she didn’t care what had brought him. Even if he were to be hateful and cruel, she was thrilled that he was here, back in her life, for the rest of it if she could manage it. The battle for his feelings might seem insurmountable, but it would be worth it.
    Daniel was worth it.
    At her nod, Carlisle closed the door behind her and left them alone in the painfully bright, yellow drawing room.
    If it were possible, Daniel looked even worse than she did. His hair was in as much disarray as the other evening and his jaw was covered with a dark gold smudge of new beard. His eyes were rimmed with red and deep shadows clung beneath. It didn’t appear he’d been sleeping much, either.
    “Hello, Daniel,” she said quietly. Since he hadn’t retained his hat and gloves, it seemed he intended to stay longer than the few minutes of a formal courtesy call.
    Manners dictated that he couldn’t sit until she did, but she was so disquieted by his presence and her fresh visit with the past that she couldn’t make herself take a seat.
    “Charlotte.” He shifted his weight as if he meant to step toward her then stopped. “Thank you for seeing me.”
    “What can I do for you?”
    He ran a hand through his hair and her palm itched to follow. Instead, she tried to soothe it by rubbing absently at her skirt.
    “I received a parcel last evening.”
    She frowned. “A parcel?” So had she, but she doubted his was anything like the peek at the past hers had proven.
    “Indeed,” he said. “From your brother.”
    Her stomach bottomed. If Ollie had given over Daniel’s old letters to her keeping, had he also found the ones she’d written?
    Oh, God. He had.
    “These.” Daniel picked up a beribboned stack of papers, yellowed with age, which she had not noticed on the side table. “Do you recognize them?”
    Charlotte felt a flash of heat, then cold, as shock rolled through her. Daniel studied her closely, waiting for something. She nodded but couldn’t think what to say.
    “I read every single one of them last night. Twice.”
    Absently, he ruffled the edge of the stack like one would a deck of playing cards. She trembled, waiting for his conclusion. Was he embarrassed by her youthful ardor? Disgusted by her desperation and pain when she had failed, over and over, to find him? He didn’t look it, he looked…strange. As if he were trying to contain strong emotion.
    Then, decisively, he dropped the letters back onto the table and strode toward her.
    “I owe you an apology, Charlotte. I accused you of not trying to contact me and, clearly, that’s not true. You tried to reach me through my father, then through any number of acquaintances, despite the damage that would have done to your reputation.”
    As if she’d ever had a concern for her reputation. She would have gladly traded it for any word of Daniel.
    “Those letters to Mr. Thornton, Charlotte. Is that the infamous Mr. Thornton from Bow Street?” He reached out and softly stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Did you hire that runner to find me?”
    “I tried.”
    “And no doubt would have succeeded had your sire not interceded.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    He frowned. “Don’t you ever… ever apologize to me, Charlotte. It is I who owe you the apology. I’m bound for an everlasting damnation for my accusations and ill thoughts.” He stroked down her cheek. “Can you ever forgive me, angel?”
    A sob caught in her throat. “I have your letters now, too, Daniel.”
    “Do you?” The thumb skimmed her lower lip, tempting her with the tiniest touch when she wanted so much more.
    “The cache Ollie found must have contained