Page 38 of Always the Chaperone
“Why,” he said quietly, dropping into the seat as the musicians began, “did you not come over and sit with me? John would have been pleased to see you.”
He had to twist in his seat to look at her, but Charlotte did not meet his gaze. “I am here with Miss Catherine Morse and Mr. Timothy Barnes. Are you acquainted with Mr. Barnes or Miss Morse?”
“No, I am not, nor have any wish to be,” he snapped. “And all three of you could have joined us, if you had wanted.”
Her eyes still did not rise to meet his. “You had more than enough company.”
William glanced over at John, who was seated with three ladies, all staring at William. In fact, the majority of the room appeared to be staring at him. He grimaced as he contemplated the gossip which would undoubtedly emerge from tonight’s behavior: an upstart duke who has no comprehension of civility, no doubt.
He groaned. “Charlotte, you know me better than that. You know I have no interest in ladies parading before me. You are the only one I asked to dance.”
“Shush!”
The remonstrance was loud and furious, and William looked around to see the conductor himself glaring. Bowing his head in a silent apology, William gestured that the conductor should continue. The short man sniffed and tapped his baton on the music stand.
He would get a reputation for himself, if he was not careful. It would not do to ostracize himself entirely from good society, even if he couldn’t help but act impulsively whenever around Charlotte.
William waited for a few bars of music, then twisted in his seat to speak with her again. She was smiling—though it disappeared once she realized she had been spotted.
Fire sparked in his stomach. It was all a game with Charlotte, a way for her to tease him, to tempt him but never offer him what he wanted.
Well, he knew what he wanted, and he had asked for it enough times. Now he was going to take it.
Ignoring the horrified gasps from the audience, William grabbed Charlotte’s arm and rose to his feet, pulling her along the row toward the aisle.
“Your Grace!”
Her startled cry didn’t slow him down, and neither did the startled whispers all around them. The notorious gossip, Mrs. Bryant, muttered to her neighbor, but William did not care.
The moment he had touched her arm, even through his white gloves, the whole evening had come alive. Colors had appeared again, the music rose around him, and it did not matter that Charlotte was staring as though he had gone mad as he pulled her down the aisle to the door.
The freezing night air hit his face, and he gasped at the shock of it.
“What do you think you are doing?” Charlotte wrenched her arm free. “There are two people in there completely unchaperoned!”
“To hell with them,” William said. “Finally, we can talk in peace.”
Her glare had not disappeared as they stood outside. “Although you may find this hard to believe, I was actually looking forward to that recital—and the only reason I was invited was to act as Miss Morse’s chaperone.”
He scoffed. God, it was good to be with her again. Why did every second not in Charlotte’s company seem like time completely wasted?
“It was Mozart,” she was saying, “my favorite composer, and one who is indelicately played by most musicians. I should go right back in there and enjoy it with Miss Morse!”
She moved toward the door and hesitated. William stood unmoving and silent.
“You…you are not going to stop me?” Her expression held suspicion.
“No. Charlotte, I think I have made myself quite plain. I like you. Though I hesitate to admit it to you, I…I am falling in love with you.” The words sounded strange spoken aloud, but William had to be brave. It was time to speak out. “I enjoy your company, your conversation. You have never been a chaperone to me, but a captivating lady. The question is, why do you insist on avoiding me?”
“I am very much the chaperone for the next generation. My time has gone. I will never marry now,” she said, her eyes not meeting his as she added, “and I am not avoiding you.”
That was enough for him. “You are doing it this very moment!” he exploded. “God’s teeth, Charlotte, but you have sorely hurt me this past week.”
Was that a flicker of regret, of concern? Whatever it was, it had disappeared from Charlotte’s eyes as quickly as it had appeared.
“I do not see how,” she said stiffly. “I merely was unable to meet with you for seven days. Surely your other…acquaintances have provided you with enough entertainment in the meantime?”
William stared at her. “Entertainment? If I had wished to be entertained, I would not be here in Bath, full of rigid rules and polite nothingness happening every day. Charlotte, I am still in Bath because of you! Every day this week, I wished to see you!”
