Page 45 of Always the Chaperone
Damn fool of a question. It was almost ten o’clock in the evening, long past visiting hours. What did he think he was doing?
The butler clearly agreed with William’s internal thoughts. Eyebrows raised, he opened the door to allow him inside. “Lady Charlotte is not receiving visitors,” he said smoothly, shutting the front door and bowing. “I fail to understand why you require a visit with my lady at this late hour,” he said baldly.
William drew himself up to his full height and saw with dismay that it still did not match Matthews.
“Because I love her.” The statement was short, true, but he had spoken honestly and without guile.
Matthews raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
William waited, but the butler said nothing. The conversation rather falling on its feet, he continued, “I would like to tell her so, Matthews, and I found I could not sleep without her knowing.”
The butler regarded him for a moment and then said quietly, “I have sworn to protect her. I promised her mother that I would keep an eye on her until she married, and she had another to keep her safe.”
It was the last thing William had expected, and from a butler no less! But now he regarded Matthews properly. He saw an elderly gentleman who had likely seen Charlotte grow from a small child into a woman.
“I am not here to hurt her,” he said. “But need her to know I am serious about my suit, and it is my wish to marry her. Lady Charlotte will become the Duchess of Mercia if I have any say in the matter.”
“Her Grace?” It was clear that Matthews greatly approved of the title for his charge. “Well then, that is different. You are in earnest?”
“Never more so,” William said truthfully.
The butler frowned at him, during which William felt an overwhelming urge to fidget, but he resisted.
“The lady of this house, before Lady Charlotte,” said the butler finally, “always wished to see her daughter married.”
“If Lady Charlotte will have me, I would marry her within the week.”
Matthews smiled. “If she married anyone, it would not be within a week. Your Grace, may I take your coat?”
William tried to prevent his shoulders from sagging with visible relief as the servant took his coat, gloves, and hat.
“One moment, sir. Who shall I say is calling?”
William grinned at the gentle cheek from the butler. He knew full well who William was. But then an idea crept into his mind. “Tell her a friend is in need of a chaperone.”
It truly was a glare from the butler this time, but Matthews did not say another word. Turning on his heels, he walked out of the room, leaving William alone.
The hallway was sparsely lit with only one candle burning. William bit his lip as a clock chimed somewhere in the house. What did he think he was doing, turning up at her door at this time, hoping to be allowed in?
It was scandalous, and no lady of good breeding would ever allow it. He would not blame her if she sent him away. She had her own reputation to protect, after all.
Since that moment in the alley—no, before then, when he had first seen her at her brother’s wedding and decided to follow her—he had wanted more. Charlotte’s face had been seared into his mind, and he could not get rid of her.
William moved about the hallway restlessly. How many chits, just girls really, had he been introduced to in that time? Ten? Fifteen? Maybe even twenty, but none of them compared. He had not given them a thought once they left his presence.
There was only one woman for him. He had been conquered by her without her even knowing it, without trying. Wasn’t that part of the attraction? She had spoken to him coldly, angrily, without interest, and he had warmed to her.
Every taste of you makes me want you more. I cannot take this much longer.
God, he had not realized how true those words were until days without her. He had been convinced that kiss in the lane would make her accept his proposal. Their conversation in church had lifted his hopes only to dash them again. It was time for something drastic.
A door opened, and Matthews came back into the hallway, and this time, there was a knowing smile on his face.
“My Lady Charlotte says,” he intoned with a sharp look at William, “she will see you in the study. Second door on the left.”
She wanted him. His whole body clenched as he walked to the door. Did she know the signals she was giving?
William tasted blood. He had bitten his lip so hard, he had made it bleed. Was he truly ready for this?
