Page 112 of Charming Artemis

Charlie kissed her forehead. “He was not wrong.”

“Have you read his letter to you?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

“You should,” she said. “It is not as sad as I was afraid it would be.”

He kept his arm around her, holding her tenderly. “You finish yours, and then I will read mine.”

She leaned her head against him and read the final letter out loud.

“My Princess,

“I am not one for premonitions, but I do have a good memory. I recall clearly the ways in which my father was unwell at the end of his life and recognize in myself those same ailments. I fear I will not see you again.”

She swallowed against the emotion in her throat but pressed on.

“I am writing you a final letter, as I cannot bear to leave you out of my efforts on that score. As I have wrestled with the worries I have for you, in recent days, I have felt an undeniable peace where you are concerned. It is my hope, my belief, that the heavens have seen fit to send into your life someone who will look after you and care about you and see to it you are not neglected or overlooked.

“If I am, indeed, not long for this world, and if the heavens permit the departed to influence the lives of those they have left behind, I intend to do what I can to see to it your path crosses with my family’s. I wish for you to know them and for them to know you. I would love nothing more than to have my Princess be part of my family.

“I have told Julia, my wife, about you and my name for you. I have full faith that she will remember, and should the miracle I hope for occur, she will give you my letters.

“Know that I love you, my sweet girl, my darling Princess.

“Always and always.

“All my love,

“Your Papa”

Artemis let the letter rest on her lap. She closed her eyes, both fighting the sorrow of his loss and allowing the beauty of his words to wash over her.

Charlie held her ever more tightly. “He managed his miracle, didn’t he?” he whispered.

“He did. He brought us together, though he had to practically knock our heads together to manage it.”

“Almost literally.” A hint of a laugh touched Charlie’s words. “I find myself harboring a suspicion that he tripped us up at the ball in London, managing to force that spill of raspberry shrub.”

“Perhaps I was wrong,” she said. “It wasn’t an accident after all.”

“I rather like that possibility.”

She tucked her feet up beside her and, opening her eyes, set her precious letters on the side table before curling cozily into Charlie’s embrace. “It is your turn to read your letter. Though whether you do so aloud or not, I leave to you.”

“My dear, if he went to so much trouble to bring the two of us together, I think I would be risking heavenly retribution if I didn’t include you in the reading of his letter to me.”

She set her arms around him, offering what support she could.

He took up his letter from his father and, with hands she felt certain were shaking, broke the seal.

“Dearest Charlie,

“I am struggling to imagine you as a gentleman grown, yet I know you will be precisely that by the time you read this. At the moment, you are all of seven years old, fond of any and every lark you can imagine, running about the Park with the exuberance of a carefree and delightful little boy. We have had some remarkable adventures together while your brothers were away at school. I’ve not had so ready and adventurous a playmate since the days I ran about this same estate with your uncle Stanley and your mother.

“Your brothers are old enough that should my evaluation of the current state of my health prove accurate, they will retain memories of me even years from now, but I suspect you will have few. I have spent many long hours pondering that, trying to ascertain a solution.

“I have settled upon this, Charlie.

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