"Every traveler has a home of his own, and he learns to appreciate it the more from his wandering." Charles Dickens
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Chapter One
Nate felt a sensation of nostalgia as the distantly familiar sight of London came into view from the window in his cabin. The nostalgia made him forget his horrendous nerves for a few minutes, as within a few days he would be home at Montrose and his homecoming would reach the ears of his friends at Ascot, namely the girl whose engagement had meant his return.
"Look, Maggie," Nate said softly, pointing out the small, circular window. "London."
Maggie's pale green eyes peered out the window and she gasped, flashing a smile at Nate, the same smile that had captured his heart nearly a year ago when they'd first met in North Carolina. "London," Maggie repeated, her American accent wrapping around the word like no other way he'd ever heard it. "Is this where you live?" she asked curiously.
"No, I live a few days' ride from here in a place called 'Derbyshire.' My estate is called 'Montrose,'" he explained. "It will be our home."
"Are we going to stay here forever?" Maggie asked next, still happily peering out the window as the ship was being secured to the dock.
Nate had already packed their trunks and they were stacked at the door in an orderly fashion. "England is my home, Maggie. You'll like it here, I promise you. The weather is questionable and you might encounter a rude man or two, but it is a wonderful place to live."
Maggie stood away from the window and smoothed out her dress and flattened her already smooth, brown hair. Her hair was perfectly straight and fell to her hip bones, and it had a natural, gorgeous shine. Maggie's most endearing feature, though, were her beautiful eyes. The pale green hues were unlike any Nate had ever seen. Her eyes were framed by a set of dark, long eyelashes. Her skin was naturally olive due to her mother's Spanish roots. All in all, Maggie was a very attractive child, and would grow into an exceptionally beautiful woman.
"Daddy, do you think I look nice enough for England?" Maggie asked vulnerably, looking down at her grey, cotton gown. It was long sleeved and buttoned down her front. He'd commissioned a few dresses for Maggie while still in Boston but she'd already ruined them whilst playing with other children on board. The simple, sturdy kind were the dresses that suited the amount of energy she had.
Nate smiled affectionately at his young daughter. He placed his hands underneath her arms and lifted her up, supporting her light body on his forearm as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "You are perfect," he promised her. "No matter what anybody says to you, you needn't change. You have to understand, you are different here, Maggie, so people will say so. But if anyone makes you feel different, you will report them to me, understand?"
Maggie pursed her lips. "Can't I just slap them around the ears?" she asked, seeming perfectly serious.
Nate chuckled. "Absolutely not," he said firmly, but then he rethought it. "Not unless they really deserve it." She was a child, so she could get away with a little harmless fighting. Especially if a person was behaving on their prejudices. "Alright, even though it's March we still need our coats. Quickly, the steward will be here soon to collect our things." He put Maggie down and helped her into the thick, woollen coat he'd purchased for her. She pulled her hair out from inside the coat and then let it fall down her back. The only reason she wore it down was because Nate had no idea how to fix a woman's hair.
Carrie hadn't had a chance to tell him how to do that.
He'd met Caroline Wheeler on his way through Charlotte, North Carolina. Although he'd wanted to avoid any potential reminder, the name of the city had enticed him. Perhaps it was fate. Carrie had worked in the hotel he was staying at, as a singer in the dining room, and he'd engaged her in conversation after he'd had a little too much to drink. Within half an hour he'd divulged his entire tale regarding Charlotte Wilde to her. Perhaps the name of the city had brought it out of him.
He and Caroline had become good friends, and she'd helped him with American customs so that he didn't stand out so much. She'd told him of her heritage, that being her father marrying a Spanish immigrant, hence her exotic features. She'd also introduced him to her daughter, Margaret, who preferred to be called 'Maggie'. Maggie was six years old and she'd been born out of wedlock as her father had disappeared soon after he'd learned that Carrie was to have a child.
Carrie did her best to raise Maggie by herself, though controlling her was sometimes difficult as Maggie could be quite a wild child when she wanted to be.
Sadly though, two months after he'd met Carrie and Maggie, Carrie contracted diphtheria and had begged Nate to look after Maggie on her death bed. Nate had promised that he would, and so he had.
Maggie had been reluctant at first, but that was due to her grief. She'd been barred from seeing her mother as Carrie had wanted to keep her away from the sickness. She'd misbehaved for Nate and had run away several times, but Nate had eventually won her over. All Maggie needed was to be loved.
Nate had never imagined being a father. Of course, he'd assumed it would happen one day, but not the way it did. Though he wouldn't change it. Maggie had changed him for the better. She'd made him brave enough to come back home.
"Is Charlotte going to be my new Momma?" Maggie asked suddenly, as the steward collected their trunks. Nate had taken her hand and had begun leading her up to the deck.
His head snapped down to the girl who was barely four feet tall. "Excuse me?"
"I read that letter you were hugging last night," she answered innocently. "The lady that wrote it said that Charlotte loves you. Is she going to be my Momma?"
"You know, when I taught you to read, it didn't mean that you could read everything you find," he scolded lightly. Maggie enjoyed reading anything. And it was true, he had fallen asleep reading and re-reading Bess' letter.
How he wished that Charlotte would be Maggie's Momma, as she put it. Though that was highly unlikely. For many reasons.
The first, obviously, being that she was engaged. Eric Mornington. Nate wanted so desperately to hate him. Bess had said there was only friendship between them but he wouldn't believe that until he saw it. If they were in love, then he would retreat. He'd let her be happy and find someone else who could love both him and Maggie.
Maggie was the other reason that a reunion, if one could call it that, would be unlikely. Nate didn't know how Charlotte, nor any of his Ascot friends, would react to him having a daughter. Maggie wasn't exactly a polite, little debutante either. She was blunt and often spoke her mind, no matter how inappropriate the statement. It was part of the reason that he'd never written home about her. Perhaps he'd thought he would've had more time to think about how he'd tell them that a deceased friend had bequeathed him a daughter.
He'd never forgotten Charlotte though, in all the time he'd been away; she'd rarely left his thoughts. He'd loved her two years ago and he still loved her now.
The purpose of his trip had been to forget her. He'd found distractions, but he'd never forgotten.
Emmett had been right to want Nate to stay away from Charlotte. His previous dalliances didn't exactly paint him as a desirable husband for his best friend's sister.
Charlotte had changed though. She was no longer the little girl that he'd known in his adolescence. She'd grown up and had quickly bewitched him. Her sweet nature and irrefutable beauty had captured him as well. It wasn't hard to fall in love with her. It wasn't hard, also, to tell her everything about himself. She knew the basics, of course. His family was gone and he was alone in the big house at Montrose, but only then did she know how it felt. She understood him in ways that no other had ever before. Not even Emmett.
It was why being so horrid to her had been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Emmett had forbidden him from touching Charlotte, and she refused to let him keep his promise. Just thinking back to that night made him feel tremendously guilty. Emmett had sent Charlotte, Rose and Marie to stay with him for their safety and Charlotte had surprised him in his bedchamber on the first night.
***
It was raining and the air outside was freezing. His bedchamber was warm though, and the fire was throwing off a flickering glow. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he was stirred by a soft rap on his door.
Charlotte didn't wait for him to open the door and burst into his room wearing only a silk nightgown. Her dark hair was fixed in a braid over her shoulder and was secured with a white silk ribbon.
"Charlotte," Nate remarked, sounding quite alarmed. He rose from his bed and suddenly wished he was more decently dressed. All he wore was a pair of drawers. He couldn't help but notice Charlotte's blue eyes rake over his person quickly before they returned to his face. "You should not be in here. This is highly inappropriate." If Emmett found out about it then Nate would surely be a eunuch by morning.
"I don't care about propriety!" she exclaimed. "I care about you! And I know you care about me, too. Why are you being so horrid to me? You weren't like this before! What have I done?"
He ran his fingers through his curly blond hair as he tried to think of an answer. The truth worked, he supposed. "Your brother forbade me from pursuing you, Charlotte. I'd advise you to leave."
"Hang Emmett!" she snapped. "He's not my father, even though he treats me like he is. He can't dictate who I will and will not see."
Nate frowned. "Like it or not, Charlotte, he's the closest thing you have to a father, and yes, he can. You're in his charge and he's asked me to stay away from you. So please, allow me to respect that."
She pouted. Nate thought she looked even more beautiful when angry. How he wished he could just ignore Emmett's request, but he couldn't. Emmett had been his friend long before Charlotte had grown up. He'd helped him through some truly difficult times.
Then, before Nate could even think to stop her, a spark flashed across Charlotte's eyes and she practically launched herself at him. Quicker than anything, she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and was trying to kiss him.
She was truly testing his willpower. With all the strength he had, both mental and physical, he pushed her away from him, keeping her at arm's length. Charlotte looked incredibly hurt, and he swore he saw tears forming in her eyes.
He had to stop her, and he knew exactly how. "You're a girl, Charlotte. You're a child and I am a man. It would have never worked between us. I suggest you leave."
That had done it. He'd hurt her, perhaps even beyond repair. Her lip trembled and she stepped away from him. A second later she turned and ran.
***
He'd felt so awful about saying that ever since. He'd broken her heart and he'd never meant the words.
Every time he'd caught her looking at him after that, she'd always looked sad, even if she'd plastered on a smile for her family.
He'd tried to repair what friendship they'd had during her early teenage years. He didn't want Charlotte to be miserable. Even if he had to be. And he somewhat had repaired the friendship. They were able to have conversations again. But in having those conversations, he'd decided that he needed to get away from her for a while. And so, America had beckoned, as well as the fantastic wall in China. However, Maggie had stayed him from ever journeying to see the latter.
In his final letter to Charlotte, he'd told her that he wished for her to meet a nice gentleman her family approved of. She'd done that. Though if the man was older than thirty he would wring Emmett's neck. He was thirty years old himself now, and Charlotte was twenty. That wasn't as horrible as when she was still eighteen.
"Daddy, what now?" Maggie asked, tugging on his sleeve. They stood on the docks with their trunks in tow.
If he'd had made plans, he would have sent word ahead to Montrose to have a carriage waiting. "We'll hire a carriage, and then we'll go home. Are you ready?"