Her fingers were warm on his hand as he led her to the dance floor to join the set. Or was that his own hand pulsating with heat? It was impossible to tell. All William knew was that his heart was thumping wildly because of her.
That changed as he noticed with surprise that people were openly pointing. One of them laughed, and an unpleasant snicker echoed around the room.
William glanced at Charlotte. Her eyes were downcast, and her cheeks were pale as her shoulders slumped.
It was not difficult to guess the cause of her upset, and as William placed her in the set, he said in a low voice, “Ignore them.” The music began before he could say any more, and as he moved forward with the gentlemen in a row, he repeated, “Ignore them, Charlotte.”
Forced to step back with the others as part of the dance before she was able to reply, Charlotte held her head up high and focused on him.
How could anyone look at her and not see her worth? How could they look and laugh?
The ladies stepped forward, and he said quietly, “You are the most beautiful woman in this room, Charlotte.”
She blushed as she stepped away. “In this old gown?”
“You wear it to disappear, to ensure no attention falls on you,” he countered, trying to ignore the thrill of holding her hand. “Otherwise, you would outshine them all.”
“Outshine? Lady Charlotte?” The gentleman who they were circling with snorted. “No offense, Lady Charlotte, but as a chaperone, you do a good job of allowing the young ladies to shine. No one wants a pretty chaperone, do they?”
She stopped in her tracks, and the other lady walked into her. She was staring at William so fiercely, he thought he might burst into flames. Without saying a word, Charlotte released the hands of those on either side of her and marched away.
God’s teeth! William cursed, standing and staring after her. She must have known she would attract such attention if she stood up to dance, and he had encouraged her to expose herself to such degrading comments.
“You, sir, are fortunate I do not have the time to call you out,” he growled, “for you are a fool and a brigand, and I give you fair warning. You are not welcome at any event I attend in the future.”
“But Your Grace, I said naught to you!” The idiot blustered, and William fought down the need to punch him. Charlotte needed him. She was far more important than teaching this cur a lesson.
Ignoring the startled cries around him, William pushed past them and toward the doorway. There were several people milling about in the hallway, some of them taking off their cloaks, a few whispering in surprise, but no Charlotte.
There was nowhere else she could have gone but outside. William nodded to the footman, who opened the door for him.
Evidently forcing back tears as she walked slowly along, was Charlotte.
“Going home, sir?” A carriage driver was smoking a pipe.
William ignored him. “Lady Charlotte, where are you going?”
She made no sign she had heard him, and he rushed to catch her. “Charlotte,” he said gently as he placed a hand on her arm.
She pulled away and glared. “I am going home. Please leave me, Your Grace. I know the way. Mrs. Coulson will take care of Lady Letitia. Good evening.”
William laughed darkly. “If you think I am going to allow you to walk home on your own…”
“You are not my guardian, father, brother, nor friend,” she said fiercely. “You have no right to an opinion. Please, go away.”
William kept pace with her.
“Bath is perfectly safe,” Charlotte said angrily, “and the night air will do me good.”
Her last words were said in desperation, and her tone so exactly like Honora’s, that William was overwhelmed with a savage need to protect her.
“I will never allow a woman to walk home on her own again, and you may as well get accustomed to the idea, Charlotte. Never.”
Although Charlotte did not stop walking, she finally looked at him. “You sound as though you have done that once before.”
William swallowed. This was not what he had expected tonight. His plans had been more, well, romantic. He had been determined to woo this rigid chaperone. He had not expected this to be a night of confessions. He had never told a lady the story before.
“This is not a tale I planned to tell,” he said gruffly as they turned a corner. “But if I must, I am glad it is to you, Charlotte.”
“I am not asking for your confidence,” she said swiftly.
William smiled sadly. “I know. But perhaps it is a story you need to hear.”
He took a deep breath. Just the idea of thinking about that night all those years ago was painful. But this woman needed to know.
“I had—have—a sister named Honora. She was ten years younger than me, and we were inseparable as children—John, too. She was wild and despised rules. We loved her.”
He glanced at Charlotte, who smiled. “I had two brothers, too.”
William nodded. “As I grew older, I needed a profession, and as the eldest son, my parents used what little money they had to buy me a commission in the army. I did well, and with the money I managed to put aside, I dedicated myself to advancement. After notes in dispatches of valor and bravery, I was promoted. With the greater income, I was finally able to support my family. I purchased a commission for John. Soon to become Major Lennox, I came back to London for a visit, and the three of us were invited to a ball.”
A laughing couple passed them, and William stepped closer to Charlotte. He could feel her like fire—hot and tempting.
He coughed. “John was unwell, recovering from a bout of influenza, so Honora and I went together. It was a rather dull affair for my sister, with few gentlemen, but I ran into some friends from my previous regiment. Honora grew tired and wanted to go home, and I was having the time of my life.”
His words stuck in his throat.
“And so,” Charlotte prompted gently, “she walked home on her own.”
“It was selfish of me,” he said fiercely. “I was far more interested in my own enjoyment, and we were but two streets away from the rooms we had taken. How difficult could it be, I thought, for her to walk two streets? Before I could tell her to be careful, she had already gone.”
They walked for a minute in complete silence before he continued.
“That was the last time I saw her.” His voice cracked as he knew it would, but the guilt was impossible to ignore. “Honora never made it home. She has been missing from that day, and it has been three painful years, and we are still no closer to knowing what befell my sister that night.”
They crossed the street and only then was the silence broken.
“That is awful,” Charlotte whispered. “I had no idea, William. No idea at all.”
He breathed out the tension in his shoulders. “Well, it is hardly polite dinner conversation. Even now, I still enter every room in the hope someone will turn around and it will be Honora.”
There, he had trusted her with his darkest secret, his deepest fear, and hope.
He had expected Charlotte to shy away, to chastise him for such reckless care of his sister.
She did neither of those things. Instead, she took his hand and slipped her fingers between his. “There was nothing you could have done, William,” she said quietly. “You could never have predicted it.”
William squeezed her hand, not trusting his voice, but feeling a new closeness with her.
But he could not wallow in self-pity; he did not deserve it. “I have heard the murmurs of course, the gossips wondering whether anyone in the family had something to do with it. But the very idea someone could hurt her!” Bitterness seeped into every word.
“They always know exactly how to hurt you,” Charlotte said quietly, and as he glanced at her, she smiled. “That is why gossips have such power, and the best way to break that power is to ignore them or remove yourself from the situation. Why do you think I ran out of the ball tonight?”
She s
topped suddenly, and William was pulled toward her, their hands still joined.
“Why have you stopped walking, Charlotte?”
“Because this is my house.”
What a fool for not noticing! He had been so lost in his words, pouring out his soul to her, he had forgotten where they were.
He chuckled. “Thank you for listening to me.”
“Thank you for seeing me safely home.”
William swallowed. With any other lady, he would simply kiss her. Take her in his arms and show her, not tell her, how he felt.
But this was Charlotte. She was already more important than any other woman he had ever met. He did not want to get this wrong. He had one opportunity to show her exactly what she meant to him.
“I have not got you home safely yet,” he said and pulled her up the steps, toward the front door.
“You can consider your duty performed.”
“Nothing with you is a duty, Charlotte.” He had not meant his words to be serious, but with such a tantalizing woman before him, it was impossible for them not to be. Without thinking, just feeling, he leaned her against the door. The gasp that escaped her lips pushed him over the edge, and he crushed his lips on hers.
Charlotte resisted at first, but as William brought his arms around her, she softened in his hold, deepening the kiss by allowing her lips to slowly part.
It was even more glorious than he could have thought. Everything about her drew him in, so fragile and so strong. She moved against him, moaning. And in response, he groaned, wanting to seduce her.
But no. If he was going to do this, he would do it properly.
He broke the kiss but did not permit her to move away from the door.
“I think,” Charlotte said breathlessly, not looking away, “that I may need a chaperone of my own after all.”
William laughed shakily. “I am determined, Charlotte. I will marry you.”
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in astonishment. “Marry me?”
He nodded. “God’s teeth, Charlotte, you do such things to me… I think I may actually marry you.”
She blinked rapidly, staring unbelieving at him. “No, William.”
Her hand had found the door handle, and she opened it, slipping inside and closing it swiftly behind her.
William turned, breathing heavily, gazing at the deserted street. What a magnificent woman. He would make her beg for him, his touch, and his name—before the month was out.
Chapter Seven
It was a struggle to keep a smile on her face as Charlotte came to the end of another circuit at the Pump Room. Every day during the Season, especially when the weather was unfavorable, people would come here to see and be seen. She was a St. Maur, so of course, she was here.
She inclined her head in response to someone’s curtsey but did not pause to talk. It was impossible; the room was so full and the slow but steady movement of the crowd so continuous, she was swept away.
The whole of Bath was here, and though Charlotte recognized many faces, there was not a single person she wished to converse with. Her thoughts were so rapid, she needed to untangle them first.
“Your Grace, or can I call you William?”
Charlotte looked over to the other side of the room and saw him.
He was well hidden by a screen of young ladies, all standing around him with beaming smiles and wide eyes.
A smile crept across Charlotte’s face as she continued to promenade around the room. Poor William. It was a curse really, to be so handsome and so eligible. He probably hadn’t got a word in edgeways with those ladies.
No sooner did the thought cross her mind, did she regret it and scold herself for such an opinion.
Why should she criticize or condemn other women—especially women she did not even know—because they happened to be smiling at a man she…
How did she feel about him?
Her mind jumped back to that heady kiss, three days ago. Her back against her front door, his arms around her, and his lips…
Charlotte bumped into an elderly gentleman who looked severely affronted.
“Mind where you are going, Lady Charlotte,” he said crossly, a deep frown across his forehead. “‘Bad enough these misses pay no heed to their elders!”
“My apologies, my lord,” she said hastily, but he had already shuffled off.
Yes, it was easy to see how quickly people could fall in love after a kiss like that. True, she ought to have restrained herself as a lady of good breeding, but she had not wanted to. She wanted to kiss William and be kissed by him all over.
Her smile disappeared as a flush crept up her neck.
“Your brother, the Marquess, is he not here?”
A plaintive voice rose above the chatter, and she saw, to her surprise, that the circuit of the room had brought her close to William and the girls. One of them was pouting, but instead of being captivated, William caught Charlotte’s gaze.
He rolled his eyes and grinned before he replied.
Charlotte was forced to look away as she laughed. There was something about that man, something playful and yet so serious.
What a jest between them! He would not seriously make her an offer, not to the chaperone. He jokingly asked to marry her, and she just as jokingly refused.
But what if he had not been in jest?
It was not possible a man like him, a man at all, would offer her marriage. No one ever had. No one considered her true marriage material. If she was honest, she had never considered herself that way either.
“If she had any decency, she would leave Bath,” said a stout woman to her companion. “Throwing her heels in the air like that, what does she think she’s doing?”
“I heard Miss Tilbury cares not for such rules,” revealed her companion with a shocked look. “And when I spoke to…”
Their voices died away as Charlotte progressed on, and their gossip about the Earl of Marnmouth’s mistress was not enough to distract her.
Marriage. Though she craved it and longed to be loved and wanted in such a way, marriage frightened her.
To be so wholly devoted to another person, to never do anything without them, it scared her. Overwhelming. Engulfing.
Reaching the opposite wall again, Charlotte turned carefully, ensuring she did not bump into anyone, and looked back across the room. Though she could no longer hear their conversations, William was still surrounded by the same girls. One of them threw her head back and laughed.
Something strange stirred in her. It was a new emotion, part determination to prove herself, part heady desire to be the one everyone looked at.
She didn’t want anyone else to laugh at William’s jokes. This was not like her, this impulse to put herself forward—but if she did not, she would never know whether she could.
She took a deep breath. Her corset was too tight, it seemed so recently. She would have to remember to tell Danvers.
Ignoring tradition, Charlotte broke from the pack and started to stride directly toward William.
Those she passed gasped or moved hurriedly out of the way, and a few muttered, and she caught the words strange and so unlike her. She ignored them all.
William’s admirers turned, open-mouthed, to stare. William grinned, one hand in his pocket, but did not say a word.
Charlotte swallowed. Well, she had come this far. “You will not mind if I borrow him, will you?”
Without waiting for a response, she grabbed William’s hand and pulled him toward the doors.
Now the gasps were more audible, and someone behind her laughed. Miss Theodosia Ashbrooke was close by and actually pointed them out to her companion, and the footman on the door gaped.
What did she care for the opinions of people she did not even like? In that moment, when an unknown gentleman had been so discourteous at Braedon’s ball, she had fled—but why should she bow to society’s rules at every turn? She was sick of the stuffiness of the Pump Room, sick of the formality of it all. She had to get out of
there, and she wanted him with her.
She did not think until they stepped outside, and suddenly all the movement in her legs stopped. William looked delighted.
“Well, Lady Charlotte, what was all that about?”
She felt giddy and had forgotten to take a full breath. “Did you not give me the signal?” she asked airily, not attempting to hide her smile.
William’s brow furrowed, and she appreciated his handsomeness. “The signal?”
She nodded. “To rescue you from all of those girls?”
The street was deserted. Rain seemed to be keeping everyone inside. William smiled and stepped closer, closer than was proper—but then who was there to see?
“I did not even think to,” he said, taking her hand. “But I must say, I wish I had done so much earlier so I could escape their company and enjoy yours. Shall we?”
He indicated the pavement, and Charlotte hesitated. In all her wild excitement, she had not thought this far. All she had wanted to do was remove him from those chittering girls, and she had done so.
But now she had William to herself, and it was impossible to leave his company. She had longed for it, truth be told, for three days.
She nodded. As they walked leisurely out of the Abbey Courtyard to Stall Street, she spotted a few people who had left the Pump Room to stare. She tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore them.
“I hope I did not truly interrupt an important conversation,” she said quietly.
He shook his head. “Just another discussion on the weddings they were attending, what bonnets they had chosen, whether ribbons should be wide or narrow this Season…nothing of import.”
She smiled. “I am afraid I have no conversation on the subject of ribbons.”
“Thank God,” he said with a grin. “But you may pick up their topic of weddings, if you wish to give me a sense of continuity. Tell me, what weddings are you to attend this year?”
Charlotte shivered in the cold of the morning and tightened her grip around his arm. Of course, the topic was weddings.
“None,” she said. “Which is a relief. I have no comprehension of what marriage looks like—a good marriage, I mean. It is always a rather bizarre experience, hearing two people make such extravagant vows. Besides, I have attended two already this year.”
Always the Chaperone Page 6