She nodded, suddenly not wanting to say goodbye, knowing she had to. She kept thinking about how he said he stayed on rotation with the company, to keep “sharp.” And while she cared about him, he hadn’t made any move to kiss her or remotely suggest that there be a romantic element to this situation. In that, nothing had changed. He didn’t want a relationship, and his work, filled with travel and what he’d call “calculated risk,” wasn’t exactly conducive to hands-on parenting, was it?
“I’ll be in touch. Take some time to think and we’ll see if we can come up with an arrangement on the weekend.”
“Take care,” he said softly, and opened the door to the cab.
She slid inside and he closed the door. Once she gave the address to the driver, she sat back against the seat and fought tears.
Nothing seemed right. Nothing at all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JACOB STARED UP at the manor house and wondered what the heck he’d got himself into.
He grabbed his duffel from the back of the Land Rover and also Charlotte’s bag. She was hopping out of the passenger side of the vehicle and he swallowed thickly. He’d sat beside her for the better part of two hours as they made their way through London and then down to the estate, going through the picturesque village of Bramley on their way. It had been its own special sort of torture. His gaze kept sliding to his left, to her still-flat stomach. His baby was in there. A human being they’d created together. He’d made a career of dealing with difficult situations, but this one nearly bowled him over.
“You coming?” she called, starting to walk toward the front doors. “I’m hungry and I’m sure Mrs. Flanagan has everything ready for us.”
He picked up the pace to catch up with her, carrying the bags along the narrow cobblestone walk flanked by very precisely trimmed shrubs. “Mrs. Flanagan?”
“The housekeeper.” Charlotte’s smile was wide as she looked over her shoulder. “She’s a wonder. Been the housekeeper here for as long as I can remember. Pretty sure she was hired before I was born.”
A housekeeper. “I suppose there’s a cook, as well?”
She laughed. “Yes, and a couple of maids. We don’t live here full-time but we use it enough that staff is here year-round. Stephen is here often, and Christmas is always here. You should see the house at the holidays. It’s gorgeous.”
He had no doubt. It was already glorious, with extensive gardens. “How old is this place, anyway?”
She stopped at the steps leading to the doors. “It was built in the seventeenth century. My great-great-grandfather, Edward Pemberton, bought it and it became the country home for the Earl of Chatsworth. And so it was my father’s home and now it is Stephen’s.”
Jacob wasn’t afraid of money or fame. In his line of work, he came into contact with a lot of both. But it was different, knowing he was fathering a child into such a family. Being a bodyguard was a totally different dynamic than being a dad. Not much threw him off balance, but this did. If he’d been out of place in New York, being at the country home of the Pemberton family was like another universe.
And then the doors opened and he stepped into Chatsworth Manor.
“Miss Charlotte! Oh, it’s good to see you back.” A middle-aged woman, her red hair streaked with a little gray, came forward and gave Charlotte a hug. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything special while you’re here?”
“Maman told you,” Charlotte said dryly.
“Of course she did. You let us know if there are any foods that don’t agree with you right now, or anything you need at all.” Her eyes shone. “I’m delighted there’s going to be a baby in the house. And that’s all I’ll say about that.”
Charlotte gave the housekeeper another squeeze. “Oh, I doubt that’s all. Mrs. Flanagan, this is Jacob Wolfe. Jacob, our housekeeper, Mrs. Flanagan.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, and nodded.
“You’re the one?”
He was surprised at being put on the spot and by the housekeeper no less, but he met her gaze and answered, “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Flanagan’s eyes were sharp. “Then you’d better treat Miss Charlotte right. And that’s all I’ll say about that.”
He was starting to think that was her go-to phrase, and that it meant exactly the opposite, and despite himself he was charmed.
“Charlotte deserves all the good things,” he agreed, and smiled.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Miss Charlotte, you brought home a charmer.”
Charlotte laughed then, and he realized how much he’d missed the sound. There’d been no laughing the other night when they’d spoken, but hearing it now filled him with...well, happiness.
Be careful, his heart said. The last time he’d felt this kind of unfettered joy it had been ripped away so cruelly.