Page 55 of Always the Chaperone
“Oh, my lady.” Danvers straightened up and smiled sadly. “That is the most beautiful story I have ever heard. I wish you joy.”
“We have not announced,” Charlotte spluttered. “I mean…Danvers, let us not talk about it anymore. My hair and perhaps a little rouge?”
Charlotte remembered ruefully why she had gotten out of the habit of beautifying herself; it took so long and was more than a little uncomfortable.
But today, of all days, it was worth it. Charlotte bit her lip.This was starting to overwhelm her, this anticipation of seeing Will again. After sharing such an incredible night, a moment of exquisite passion that she had never known before, what did he want from her today? Could it be he wished to ask her to marry him in seriousness?
Charlotte breathed out slowly as she placed the bonnet on her head.This was ridiculous.She would drive herself mad with wondering, and it was a quarter to twelve. It was time to leave.
The front door snapped shut behind her, and she shivered in the cool breeze rustling the budding branches along the street. A few people had ventured from their homes, umbrellas on their arms, despite the threatening rainclouds.
She walked quickly, passing people in her rapid journey and nodding politely, without giving the opportunity for conversation. She could make out Pulteney Bridge, and there stood a gentleman waiting for her.
William.
Overwhelmed by the desire to run and kiss him, she fought the urge and slowed her pace. It would not do to arrive breathless, without the ability to say a single word.
“I hope I am not late,” she smiled nervously as she approached. “I slept in this morning.”
He removed his top hat and beamed. Charlotte melted. There was no other gentleman like this.
How had she found such a man, or rather, how had he found her? It seemed impossible, and as she looked at him, handsome in his well-tailored greatcoat, she wondered what he was doing with her. Past her prime and with little to recommend her, save a title, no other gentleman had ever sought her company.
“You look absolutely beautiful,” he said softly.
Her blush was involuntary. “Thank you.”
He stared at her, and she laughed.
“My apologies, I just—shall we?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Charlotte moved to accept the arm she assumed would be offered. But it was not. He was a few steps ahead of her before she caught up, discomfort twisting her stomach. Why had he not offered her his arm?
“I have not seen that gown before.”
“No, this is new. One that no one has seen.”
The Sydney Gardens was almost deserted, with one other couple promenading along its path. Older than them, perhaps in their late forties, with two sullen boys in their wake.
“I never usually put any thought into the clothes I wear,” she said. “What does it matter? No one was looking at me.”
“I am always looking at you,” he countered, a wolfish grin on his face. “But if you ask me, the clothes get in the way.”
Her cheeks flushed, and although the other couple was yards from them, her eyes darted to them, concerned they may have heard his words.
“Charlotte,” he said, “I am grateful you have met me today. I have not been able to stop thinking about you.”
She dropped her gaze. “It has only been a few hours since we have last…seen each other.”
“Each moment has been torment.”
It was all too much, more a dream than reality. How could this be happening? How could these words of affection be directed at her?
Before saying another word, William stopped and took her arm. All thought of being seen was forgotten as Charlotte’s body responded to his closeness, and her heart responded to his words. He was all she wanted.
“I cannot wait,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers, “to tell people about our engagement.”
