Page 5 of Always the Chaperone
Miss Darby’s eyes widened. William was almost disappointed in her. So easily won.
“Oh, Lady Charlotte,” she said breathlessly. “She is not much to speak of, truth be told. She is ancient, of course, but good about helping out us young things. She has acted as chaperone for two of my friends, and one of them is now married. Poor Lady Charlotte, this is the closest she will ever get to marriage!”
She laughed, and her friends joined in, but William did not. His estimation of Miss Darby, never high, sunk lower.
“You must excuse me,” he said with a bow, and without waiting to hear their replies or his brother’s question, he started walking toward the house.
If he had not been trying to avoid Miss Theodosia Ashbrooke’s eyes like blazes as he approached the terrace, he would not have changed direction. That would not have brought him to the east side of the house, and that probably meant he would not have heard the pianoforte. The music was coming from a door ajar on the side of the house.
William reached the door and saw Lady Charlotte with her back to him, seated on the stool of a pianoforte, picking out what sounded like a truly awful rendition of a Mozart sonata.
She tilted her head, and William caught sight of her graceful neck. He found himself captivated by her mature grace, not a girl who had only left the nursery yesterday.
Well, he was not going to find a better opportunity.
“I am almost sure I know that tune.”
His words came out a little hoarse, and she stiffened, turning around to stare. Unlike every other encounter with a gentlewoman since ascending to the title, William found his easy manner and wit suddenly lacking.
“And you are?” Her tone was not unfriendly, exactly. More like ice.
William swallowed. This was not exactly how he had imagined this conversation. “William Lennox, Duke of Mercia.”
He bowed. She was evidently not impressed by the title.
Why would she be? Daughter of a duke and sister of a duke, he had been foolish to think his title would make any difference.
She did not even rise from her piano stool, but inclined her head and said quietly, “Lady Charlotte St. Maur.”
Part of William hoped she would extend her hand, giving him the opportunity—and the excuse—to enter the room. But she did not.
“You should give a recital later this evening,” William said with a winning smile. A curl of hair fell across her cheek, and it made him want to sweep it out of her eyes and pull her into his arms.
Why was he having such a physical reaction to this woman?
“No, thank you,” she said stiffly, dropping her gaze. “I do not enjoy being in public.”
William smiled. “No, you do not. Neither do I. Are you enjoying the day?”
She looked up, but the slight frown did not disappear. “Yes.”
Raising a hand to the handle of the door, William fiddled with it. Anything to break the tension between them, a tension he did not understand. Why did he find it impossible to step into the room—and why did he want to so badly? Why did she look both intrigued and frightened to see him there?
“I am glad of it. Very much so,” he managed. “But I have been remiss in not getting to know my hostess better. Do you think I will have the chance later on this evening?”
“I am sure the Duchess of Axwick will speak with you soon.”
William blinked. Hell’s bells, she was lovely. What he wouldn’t do to—no, he must focus. “I meant you.”
She scrunched up her nose as though she had smelled something distasteful. “Are…you are not aware of the change in precedence?”
Heat washed through him. “Precedence?”
Lady Charlotte nodded. “You see, before my brother Richard married, I was the most senior female in the Axwick line. Once he married, his bride Tabitha, Duchess of Axwick, takes my place. I am no longer the mistress of this household.”
His jaw tightened. It was one thing to have to receive a lesson in precedence because you were not born to a certain place in the world, but it was quite another to lose that place.
“And do you mind?”
