"Perhaps," Charlotte responded primly. She was not about to respond to a man who was so obviously being unpleasant.

Stephen grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. "Were you?" He demanded.

"That is a question that has nothing to do with you," Charlotte fired back.

"It has everything to do with me!" Stephen snapped.

Charlotte had had enough of his behaviour. She felt the memories of what he had been to her, the way he had protected her, the way she felt about him, but she was not going to let him continue playing this game of one moment being nice to her, the next being an ogre.

"It has absolutely nothing to do with you or anyone else. I am sick to death of everyone having the advantage over me and presuming that because of past behaviour they know exactly what I am thinking, or remembering!" Charlotte snapped in return.

Stephen's eyes flashed at her, Charlotte was not convinced that she was seeing anger there, there seemed to be something else. She took a breath and glared at him.

"You are so confident now your Mr O'Hara has returned to offer his hand," Stephen sneered. "I'll wager that Elizabeth is planning the wedding as we speak."

"Why do you dislike Elizabeth so much?" Charlotte asked, ignoring the first part of Stephen's words. "I thought you were friends."

"So did I, before she interfered with my life," Stephen snorted. "It has convinced me even more that you can never trust anyone in this life."

"That is a very sad way of looking at things," Charlotte responded, no longer angry at him. His words very often made her want to comfort him and show him that the world was not the horrible place that he thought it was.

"It's the safest way," Stephen retorted. "Even you let people down, Charlotte."

"Do I?" Charlotte asked, genuinely puzzled. "How did I do that?"

"You acted as if you cared and then as soon as someone else came along, you forgot what had happened and left destruction behind you," Stephen said ambiguously.

Charlotte put her hands on her hips and glared at Stephen. "You are wrong."

"Tell me how," Stephen said mockingly.

"I will when I remember," Charlotte responded, turning away in frustration. She knew that she had a connection with Stephen, but she still could not remember.

Stephen laughed behind her. The sound was bitter and made Charlotte flinch, not that she was afraid that he was going to hurt her, but the sound affected her. She did not like to know that Stephen was not happy and he certainly was not happy with her at the moment. While she was in the state of not being able to remember fully, he would always have the advantage. Charlotte took a few steps before she was stopped by Stephen's voice.

"Why are you walking away from me, Charlotte?" he demanded.

Charlotte turned and sighed before answering, "I cannot give you what you want Stephen," she said sadly. "I can't remember specifics, I know the memories are there, but for some reason I can't remember them. You are going to taunt me and taunt me, but I can't change the situation."

"But you remembered O'Hara," Stephen said, half way between petulance and anger.

"I remembered one moment; I don't remember anything else about him. He says we danced, but I have no recollection of it," Charlotte replied truthfully.

"It must have been some moment," Stephen retorted with a sneer. "I have been far easier to forget obviously."

Charlotte's heart ached to remember, to give Stephen some of the comfort she sought herself. She knew that he had meant so much to her, he still attracted her beyond her experience of how to deal with such strong feelings. She decided that although it may be mortifying, she would be truthful with him.

"You are wrong," she started, her usual frown developing in the way that was the indication that she was trying to remember. "With you it has been different. I have felt......I felt safe with you, protected, even though I could not remember what had gone on in the past."

"Safe and protected are not the words of a grand pa.s.sion," Stephen said with derision.

Charlotte flushed, but remained strong in her conviction that it was important to have this conversation. "Is that what we shared?"

Stephen looked at the girl before him and almost slumped with sadness. "No we didn't, Charlotte. I asked you to marry me, but because I couldn't offer you love, you refused me."

Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. "And yet you have cared for me more than anyone else in my life has."

"With your history that wouldn't be hard," Stephen said with his usual self-derision.

"Thank you," Charlotte said.

"What for?" Stephen asked, this time his turn to frown.

"For caring as much as you did and making me feel secure. I know you responded when you could just have easily walked away. Thank you," Charlotte responded gently.

"You are welcome," Stephen bowed slightly and remounted his horse. "Good day Miss Webster," he bowed and rode away, leaving Charlotte to stare after him in despair.

Chapter 25.

Events at Dunham House developed that forced Charlotte and Stephen to concentrate on something else. Elizabeth went into labour before her expected date. Michael was reduced to a nervous expectant father, as he walked up and down the dining room, while his wife, Miss Fairfield and the midwife tended Elizabeth upstairs.

Charlotte and Stephen joined Michael in the dining room. It was not the ideal place for many hours of inactivity, but it was the place that Michael wanted to be, at the foot of the stairs, in case he was needed.

Stephen tried to talk to Michael and used every subject that he could think of to get a response from Michael, to make him think of anything apart from his wife in pain upstairs. Sometimes he was more responsive than others. Very often he would glance at the ceiling, as if wishing that he could see through the plasterwork into the room above.

Charlotte felt a little unwelcome. She had no experience of childbirth, the school she had spent the last few years did not give lessons on what to do with nervous fathers. She poured tea and offered cakes and fancies, also trying to distract Michael. Her own stomach was in knots. Elizabeth had been a very good friend and the labour was long. Charlotte knew how many women died in childbirth and prayed silently for the safe delivery of her friend and baby.

Eventually Miss Fairfield entered the room and indicated that Lord Dunham should follow her. She smiled at the remaining pair. "Mother and baby are well," she informed them quietly, before leading the way to the bed chamber.

Both sagged with relief and were silent for a few moments. "I wonder whether it is a girl or boy?" Charlotte wondered aloud.

"It won't matter, it will be spoiled by both parents," Stephen said, half joking, half mocking.

Charlotte laughed with the thought, "I hope it is. I can't think of better parents to be born to."

Stephen stood, as if impatient with the conversation. "They are good people."

Charlotte stood also; keen to be out of the room now that the worry was over. "Yes they are very fortunate. Although Elizabeth has told me that she never expected to be so happy when she was Lord Dunham's ward."

"Yes, he was a fool, and could not see what was under his nose. He even tried to encourage me, although he quickly realised he'd made a mistake," Stephen said.

"You still proposed to her," Charlotte said, trying not to feel jealous and failing. It made no sense, she had been told that Elizabeth had turned Stephen's proposal down, so she had no right to feel jealous about a proposal that he had made to someone else before meeting her.

"I ultimately need a wife, Elizabeth was one of the few women I could bare to be around for more than a few hours. It made perfect sense at the time," Stephen responded with a shrug.

Charlotte shuddered, "That sounds so cold."

"I was being practical," Stephen defended himself. He should not let her affect him, but her condemnation angered him, probably because it reminded him of her rejection. "I suppose you are waiting for someone like Dunham to come along and sweep you off your feet?" The words choked him, but he forced them out.

"I'm not interested in a t.i.tle or riches, but someone who cared for me as Lord Dunham cares for Elizabeth would be something to aim for," Charlotte said.

"You should aim for riches, your looks alone will attract the best if you have a Season in London, as Dunham's sister is so keen to offer you," Stephen said, testing Charlotte with his words.

Charlotte laughed, "Now who is being silly and romantic? I have no dowry, a scarred face and an incomplete memory. Suitors with t.i.tles and riches will run for the hills, they will not want their lines of inheritance be tarnished by someone so unsuitable. I am not st.u.r.dy enough stock to provide them with their future generation," Charlotte responded realistically.

Whether it was the thought of a houseful of young Charlottes running through his house, or whether it was the innate response he seemed to have to make everything right whenever she seemed vulnerable, Stephen did not know. What he did know was that he covered the s.p.a.ce between them in two easy strides and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"They would be mad to take any of those into account. You are perfect and should have a t.i.tle!" he muttered as he pulled her towards him.

Charlotte did not resist what Stephen was doing, but she did not encourage him either. She was too frightened to make any movement in case he pulled away. His touch had stirred something within her that was almost painful; she needed to feel closer to him.

Stephen pulled her into his arms and held her close. He should let her go, anyone could walk in and Dunham would not accept excuses this time. He had been angry enough when discovering them at the arrival of Charlotte's uncle. He had just responded by instinct, he had not wanted her to feel anything other than she was perfect and worthy of any t.i.tle in the land. She would make a fine bride. He squeezed harder at the thought of her with someone else.

Charlotte wriggled at the pressure. "Stephen?" she said quietly.

"I'm sorry, I was just carried away with my thoughts, that's all," he responded, releasing her a little, but not quite fully.

"Are you doing what I do, concentrating on memories that are just out of reach and hoping that something will jolt your memory?" Charlotte asked teasingly.

Stephen looked down into her laughing eyes, the green seemed to shimmer. She was beautiful and even moreso this close. He bent to lower his lips to hers. "Will this jolt your memory?" he asked before taking her mouth with his.

Charlotte had not realised how much she had wanted his lips until the moment they touched hers. She did feel a jolt, straight through the middle of her body. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was home.

Stephen moaned at her movement and pulled her closer. All thoughts of the dangers of them being disturbed gone. He wrapped her into an embrace that secured her body fully against his own. He wanted her to feel the reaction she caused in him.

Charlotte gripped the hair that she had remembered touching and pulled Stephen to her. She did not want the kiss to stop. It was as good as the first time, but this time without the fear and uncertainty. She pulled back in shock.

Stephen groaned and rested his head on her forehead. "Why have we stopped?" he asked, the hoa.r.s.e tone in his voice showing how much the kiss meant to him.

"We've done this before!" Charlotte gasped.

Stephen paused before speaking, "What do you remember?"

Charlotte flushed, "I remember that it was as good as this, only before, there was fear and something else."

"Every time?" Stephen asked, unable to stop himself.

Charlotte smiled, "There was more than once?"

"Oh yes," Stephen said with feeling. "I think we should continue until you remember more." He stopped anymore conversation by pushing her against the dining room table and kissing her as she had never been kissed before.

Charlotte could not have thought another coherent thought with the attack on her mouth that she fully welcomed. She pushed against Stephen as much as he pushed against her. His tongue explored hers as if he had never explored anyone else and his moans almost drove her to forget all of her previous memories, not just a few weeks.

Eventually Stephen pulled away and placed his hands on the table behind Charlotte. "We have to stop!" he said, but he was gasping for control.

Charlotte still had her arms around him and with a feeling of being almost wanton, she nibbled along his jawline and bit his ear lobe. "Why?" she whispered.

Stephen gripped the edge of the table. Never before had he come close to some severely lurid behaviour in a dining room. He fought for control while smiling at Charlotte's attempts to encourage him to start kissing her again. He returned the kisses, he could not have refused her any at that moment, but eventually he gained enough control to move away from her.

"Tiger, you will be the death of me. If Dunham finds us like this, he is likely to call me out!" Stephen said gently, trying to fix his cravat.

Charlotte looked mortified at his words. "Oh my goodness! I'm sorry, I should have stopped you."

Stephen smiled at her, her pupils were dilated, her lips bruised and her skin flushed, she had never looked so beautiful. He leant over and quickly kissed her. "No, you shouldn't have, and now that you have remembered the fact that we have done that before, I am going to take as much opportunity as I can to repeat the process. I think it will help with your memory."

Charlotte laughed and did not disagree with the proposal. The thought of kissing Stephen again, set her heart racing. After a few minutes Miss Fairfield re-entered the room. If she saw anything amiss, she did not give any indication of it.

"Miss Webster, Lord Dunham has left Elizabeth to write a letter to his sister and Elizabeth was wondering if you would like to spend a few moments with her before she has a rest?" Miss Fairfield said.

"Oh yes please!" Charlotte said happily.

Miss Fairfield smiled at the enthusiasm and once more led the way out of the room. Stephen was left to try to get the last vestiges of l.u.s.t under control.

Charlotte entered Elizabeth's bed chamber slowly. The room was darkened and it took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.

Elizabeth was sitting up in her bed; her cheeks flushed the exertion she had just been through. Her hair was still damp at the edges and clung to her cheeks and forehead. She was looking down at the bundle in her arms, but greeted Charlotte warmly.

"Charlotte, come and meet the new member of our family," she said, her eyes glowing with pride.

"Are you well?" Charlotte whispered as she approached the bed. She had no prior experience of babies or the birth and felt a little unsure of what to do.

"I am very well now," Elizabeth said with feeling. "There were points when I didn't think that it would ever end, but now that she is here, I don't mind so much."

"She? You have a baby girl, how lovely!" Charlotte had reached the bed and was gazing down at the bundle of blankets and baby in Elizabeth's arms. She could see the redness of the baby's skin and a tuft of black hair.

"Yes, I have had to apologise to Michael for not producing an heir," Elizabeth said with a smile.

"Oh, is he very disappointed?" Charlotte asked, a little worried that Lord Dunham would be disappointed when Elizabeth was so obviously happy.

Elizabeth laughed, "He's not disappointed at all! He is the besotted uncle of three nieces, and now the besotted father of a beautiful girl. There is still lots of time for an heir to join our family."

"What have you named her?" Charlotte asked, feeling sure that a father like Lord Dunham would ensure that his daughter behaved herself as she grew. Charlotte found him intimidating, and she was not related to him, so the bundle had immediate sympathy from Charlotte.

"Catherine Margaret Violet Birchall," Elizabeth said softly, more to her daughter than Charlotte. "We have named her after each of our mothers and Violet of course. This little bundle has a lot to live up to, being named after three wonderful women."

"She is lovely; and so small," Charlotte said in awe of the little baby. She felt a pang of something, whether longing, or hope, she was not sure, but she wanted her own little bundles that would have the blonde hair and blue eyes of their father.

It felt almost as if Elizabeth read Charlotte's mind, because she turned to Charlotte and with her free hand, reached out and squeezed her friend's hand. "I have sometimes acted without thinking things through fully, but please believe me that I have only ever had your best interest at heart."

"I know," Charlotte said, flushing a little. "I didn't mean the harsh things I accused you of." She remembered with shame accusing Elizabeth of being jealous of Stephen's feelings.