Charming Artemis by Sarah M. Eden
Chapter Twenty-Six
The clock in Charlie’s bedchamber struck one. Artemis had not yet retired for the night. She had been in the drawing room, deep in conversation with her brother, when Charlie had taken his leave nearly two hours earlier. He did not begrudge her the time with her sibling, but he was growing a little concerned. He had, on more than one occasion, come upon her when she had either been tucked in the shadows weeping and unhappy or had fallen asleep in a place and position that could not have been comfortable. He did not like the thought that she might be somewhere in this house suffering.
He pulled on a pair of loose trousers—ones he meant to hide so they would survive Wilson’s upcoming cleansing of Charlie’s wardrobe—then snatched up his dressing gown. He tied it on and slipped from the room. He knew this house too well to be confused while navigating it, even with all the wall sconces extinguished. He made his way, without hesitation or difficulty, to the drawing room on the ground floor.
Other than two candelabras still lit across the room, all was in darkness. In that lone spill of light, Artemis sat on a sofa opposite Linus. Their voices were low, their words indistinguishable, and their tone impossible to identify from a distance.
Charlie moved closer, determined to intervene if Artemis seemed the least unhappy. He’d nearly reached them when Artemis’s laughter rang out. Relief washed over him. Close on the heels of that reassurance was the realization that he had very nearly made a fool of himself, searching her out in a state of dishabille because he’d let himself fret enough to overcome his usual logic.
He fully meant to turn around and slip out quietly, but Linus spotted him there.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Linus asked him.
That brought Artemis’s gaze to him. She didn’t look unhappy, but she did look tired.
“You hadn’t come up,” he said to her. “I only wanted to make certain you hadn’t dozed off in a chair or been upset by something.”
She smiled softly. “You were worried about me?”
He sat beside her and assumed a jesting tone. “More worried that you would wake me when you eventually wandered in, and then I would be unbearably sleepy tomorrow.”
“I suspect I will be precisely that,” Artemis said. “But it will be well worth it to have had time to talk with Linus. I’ve not seen him since we were all in Bath last year.”
Her brother seemed pleased to hear her speak highly of his company.
Charlie settled more comfortably on the sofa. “How have you been?” he asked Linus. Linus had been something of a brother to him at a time when he’d needed one.
Linus looked to his sister. “Would you like to tell him, or shall I?”
“Ooh.” Artemis shifted onto her knees on the sofa beside Charlie and turned to face him. “You will never guess.”
“He’s brought you bread pudding?”
She grinned. Heavens, she was beautiful when she smiled that broadly and sincerely.
Linus laughed. “Didn’t take long for that partiality to become known, did it?”
“Not bread pudding.” Artemis hadn’t looked away from Charlie.
“Peppermint candies?”
She shook her head, bouncing a little in place.
“I am discovering you enjoy guessing games.”
Artemis dropped back against the sofa, as dramatic as ever but in a way that felt sincere. “I adore guessing games.”
He tucked that tidbit away for future reference. “Has your brother brought you a new book of fashion plates?” he continued his hypothesizing.
Artemis looked to Linus. “Have you?”
“I have not.”
She pouted, pulling a silent but shoulder-shaking laugh from her brother.
“I do not know how you endure her theatrics, Charlie.” There was no malice in the comment.
“Easily enough. I simply begin drawling about mathematics, and boredom soon renders her unconscious.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “You still haven’t guessed what Linus is allowing me to tell you.”
Charlie adjusted his hand enough to intertwine their fingers and set his gaze on her once more. “I think you had best tell me; I have exhausted my guesses.”
“Linus and Arabella are going to be parents.” Her shoulders rose with an excited breath. “Is that not wonderful news?”
He looked over. “Congratulations, Linus.”
“Thank you. We’re pleased.”
“And you do mean to allow the little one’s aunt and uncle to shamelessly spoil him or her, I hope. We are quite good at it, you know.”
Artemis leaned her head against Charlie’s arm. “We are, in fact.”
“Although, I hate to break the news to you, Linus, Artie is rubbish at huckle buckle beanstalk.” Charlie shook his head as if it were a great shame.
He could feel Artemis laughing. “I found the toy horse more often than you did.”
“Because you were distracting me.”
She curled a bit tighter, leaning against him. He slipped his hand from hers and set his arm around her.
“You truly played huckle buckle beanstalk?” Linus asked.
Charlie nodded. “I told you we spoil our nieces and nephews. We are, by far, favorites with the nursery set.”
“You do have a history of larks and jests and jumping off roofs,” Linus said.
“I didn’t jump; I fell.” Recovering from those injuries had been awful. He’d never been in so much pain in his life.
“She checked on you quite often during your recuperation.” Linus motioned with his chin toward his sister.
“Did you?” Charlie looked down at her only to discover her eyes were closed and her expression soft and empty. “Lud, she fell asleep fast.”
“She’s been growing drowsier the past quarter hour.” Linus watched her, his expression growing a touch more somber. “I ought to have suggested she go up to bed, but I’ve needed the reassurance that she is not entirely miserable.”
“I’ve been hoping for a bit of that reassurance myself.”
Linus met his eye. “I had no idea what to expect when I arrived here. Arabella will testify to my unsettled thoughts regarding the two of you. You might have forged a cease-fire or murdered each other, with neither option surprising me in the least.”
“Things are a little better between us the past day or two,” he said, “but this marriage has been a mess. It still is a mess. She tolerates me, but I can’t say how long that’s likely to last.”
“Tolerates you?” Linus looked at him like he was a few variables short of a function. “Is that truly how you evaluate the situation?”
“There is no reason to evaluate it otherwise.”
Linus leaned forward, elbows on his legs. He met and held Charlie’s gaze. “I have known her all her life, and I have not seen her fall asleep against anyone, not since she was little more than an infant. She never allows herself to be vulnerable or at ease with another person. Not even her family. This”—he motioned to Charlie’s current arrangement, Artemis curled up against him, sleeping soundly—“is something of a shocking sight. All my siblings would attest to that.”
“Artie is not as frigid as you are making her out to be.”
“And that is another matter,” Linus said. “You have fashioned her a pet name, and she does not seem to object.”
Charlie rubbed at Artemis’s arm. Her skin had grown cold in the chilled air. “At first, she did, but she told me she’s come to like it.”
Linus leaned back once more, shaking his head. “You have no idea how significant that is. She keeps even her family at bay, hiding behind dramatics and theatricality, and you have somehow forged a path around her defenses.”
“His Grace said, ‘Her walls crumble for no one.’”
“Except you, apparently.”
It was more credit than he had earned and more optimism than was truly warranted. “Her walls are still firmly in place.”
“But not all of them.” Linus stood. “I’ve worried about her more with each passing year. You’re giving me reason to hope, Charlie.” Linus placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder as he passed. “Don’t give up.”
Charlie remained there for long moments after Linus left the room. He kept his arm around Artemis, trying to decide if he ought to cling to the hope Linus offered or if he would do best to proceed with continued caution.
Things were better between them. He’d even kissed her, however briefly. And he would never in all his life forget the look on her face when she had first seen his sartorial transformation. She’d found him attractive; the truth of that had been writ in her expression. For the first time in his life, he’d outshined his brothers in someone’s eyes.
Charlie turned his head in the direction of the family portrait. The room was too dim for him to actually see it, but his mind filled in the details. He fancied he could see Father’s expression turn a little proud, a little pleased.
And though the voice in his mind was Philip’s, Charlie could imagine his father saying, “Anything that will bring your wife joy is never a bad idea.”
Charlie whispered, “I’m beginning to sort that out.”
