Page 30 of Always the Chaperone
The question had come from nowhere, but it was certainly Charlotte who had spoken. Her eyes blazed as she looked at him, just a hint of embarrassment tinging her cheeks.
“Spend time with you?” he asked, stalling for time. “What do you mean?”
She had stopped now, and he mirrored her, allowing the flow of people to continue around them.
“I mean…does the line of Mercia not need an heir? I first made your acquaintance when chaperoning you for a potential wife. Do you…do you not still need to seek one?”
It was the most vulnerable and direct statement she had ever spoken, and William swallowed before formulating his response.
“I have John,” he said carefully, his gaze focused on her face. “He will have to do as an heir, for now.”
“I am in earnest, William. No other gentleman is seeking out my company, and I need to know why.”
He opened his mouth to say something clever but immediately closed it again. Why was he so drawn to Charlotte? No other lady had driven him this wild physically, that was certain. Her maturity and beauty combined were enough to keep him up at night.
But it was more than that. Her conversation was so much more riveting than any other. She had sincere concerns and deep thoughts, solid opinions, and was not afraid to share them. And the way she laughed—it was unlike anyone he knew.
“Because I enjoy myself the most when I am with you,” he said simply.
Charlotte’s gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers twisting. “You are fortunate that I am not younger, Your Grace, or I would consider that a flirtation.”
“You should,” he said seriously, reaching out to take her moving fingers in his. “More than flirtation. Charlotte…”
A noise ahead stopped his words. Shouts and shrieks, some in laughter and some in pain.
William’s gaze searched out the cause of the disturbance and saw where it was coming from a little further down the road. His blood started to boil.
An elderly gentleman in a military uniform, from what William could see, was seated on the ground. His arms were over his head to protect himself from the stones being pelted at him by three youths who were all laughing.
“Oh, no!” Charlotte exclaimed beside him.
William had to do something.
“Hey!” He ran toward them as fast as he could, anger building inside him. “How dare you!”
The three offenders cared little for what William had to say and stared at him, waiting for whatever came next.
“Who are you to stop us?” the tallest one challenged.
William’s attention went to the gentleman on the ground, his hands still covering his face.
Poor sod.
“You cannot tell us what to do!” another of the lads called out.
All three were dressed in apprentice garb, feeling joy in the harm they were inflicting on the old man. Not gentlemen, not even craftsmen yet. Just three boys with naught to do but harm another fellow human being.
William straightened to his full height. For a moment, he was back in the army, a major shouting at privates who had been caught in the act of wrongdoing.
But he had no jurisdiction here, no authority. The law had been broken, certainly, but what could he do, drag them to prison?
Justice must be done. He was a duke, which held weight in society no matter where he was. No one else had stepped forward, although several people were walking past, their eyes averted.
Perhaps the rage showed on his face, for the moment he took a step forward, the boys shrank back, appearing afraid.
“I wasn’t doing no harm,” one of them said.
Charlotte had reached his side as he spoke, “No harm? What in God’s name possessed you to start throwing stones at this man? Has he not sacrificed enough, fighting for his country? Wasn’t it enough of a disgrace that he was forced to live on the streets? You should be honoring him and feeding him, rather than throwing stones!”
