Always the Chaperone

by Murdoch, Emily E K

  Keep your smile steady, William told himself. After all, it wasn’t possible for Miss Darby to continue talking indefinitely without drawing breath. Was it?

  A quick glance at his brother, John, told him it was. When gentlemen of good fortune and name looked at Miss Darby the way his brother was now—eyes glazed, a winning smile—she would continue until she ran out of breath.

  What a day. He had not expected a wedding would be the place to be barraged by young ladies and their mamas, but it was worse than the Pump Room for silly chits looking to secure a rich and preferably titled husband.

  When the letter from the Court of St. James had arrived, informing him he had inherited a title, he had been concerned about financial responsibilities. Little had he known that siring an heir would take precedence.

  So, to the marriage market he had come, and apparently every woman under thirty, too. William smiled, despite himself. Well, hadn’t he earned it?

  What a shame all these young ladies were all so insipid.

  “No, I do not believe you, Miss Darby!” His brother laughed.

  William laughed too late. John, or the Marquess of Gloucester as he was now, glanced at him with a questioning look, but William shrugged it away. How could he explain his discontent?

  There were undoubtedly gentlemen who dreamt of waking up one morning with a title, but they would be fools. It had certainly entertained John. But William had never sought that life, and discovering that his own desires, opinions, even direction in life would now have to bow to the heavy burden of his new name was tiresome beyond words.

  What he would give for some real conversation.

  “Mercia, are you feeling well?” John pulled his arm, taking him outside the circle of ladies as Miss Darby went to speak to the bride. “You are hardly attending to Miss Darby.”

  “Is it little wonder?” retorted William. “First the boredom of London, then the repetition of Bath, and now this? I had thought flirtation and courting was something to look forward to after the war, but this is just irritating.”

  His brother did not look convinced. “You jest, surely. Miss Seton was a delight to speak with, and Miss Tilbury, perhaps too much so!”

  William grinned at his brother. Five years younger, he may have been through Sandhurst, but he had never seen the battlefield, and it showed. “Gloucester, these chits are inane, there is no intelligence in them at all.”

  “Who wants intelligence?” John had a spark in his eyes that William knew all too well. “We are surrounded by beauty…”

  “—but nothing of substance.” William sighed. “I know it was right and proper that we showed our faces here today.”

  “Your face,” John interrupted. “Everyone wants the new Duke of Mercia, not his younger brother.”

  William paused, looking into his brother’s eyes. Was that bitterness, a hint of envy in his voice?

  “Ah, Your Grace, I have good news!” Miss Darby was back, and she was beaming. “I have spoken with Lady Charlotte, sister of the Duke of Axwick, and she is perfectly amenable to act as chaperone for our plan!”

  William coughed in the awkward silence. “Plan?”

  Miss Darby’s smile faded. “To the opera. The Magic Flute. You invited me.”

  It all came rushing back to him, the spare tickets and the impetuous invitation he had made not ten minutes before.

  “The opera!” he said, trying to inject some merriment into his words. “What a kind offer of Lady Charlotte.”

  “She is indeed immensely kind,” warbled Miss Darby. “I was concerned at first she may not be disengaged, for she is in the top set of society in Bath, but when I asked her…”

  Well, at least Miss Darby had this for her, thought William. Whoever married her would never be short of conversation. She was talented enough to continue all by herself, without needing anyone else to contribute.

  Another yawn threatened to surface, but he quashed it. He was in polite society, and it wouldn’t do to be rude. But then, what did it matter? There were still countless, tedious women whom he had not met yet.

  Allowing his gaze to wander lazily across the wedding scene, something stopped it in its tracks.

  A woman. She was tall, slim, with chestnut hair and gray eyes, dressed in the grayest gown he had ever seen. She was watching him.

  Realizing she had been caught, she looked away with a pretty blush, eyes downcast. William stared. It was the bridesmaid from the wedding, the sister of the groom. Lady Caroline, perhaps—no. Lady Charlotte, that was what Miss Darby had said.

  Lady Charlotte. He had barely noticed her before, for she was wearing such drab clothes. Out here in the fading sunlight, everyone else looked overdressed with their diamonds and feathers and furs. She looked perfect.

  She was listening to an admiral, by the look of his dress uniform. The more William looked, the more strange it was that he had not been drawn to her. No, she did not capture the eye of every gentleman, but she was elegant. No young thing, but a woman of maturity and strength—and with a figure to match.

  Parts of William stirred that had not been awoken by Miss Darby.

  Lady Charlotte looked at him again. So, she had noticed him, too. All the better.

  There was that blush again, and it was deeper this time. After speaking a few quiet words with her companions, she stepped away from them and started moving toward the house.

  Ah, so she wanted to speak with him. She could be just as dreary as the rest of them. Better to find out now if she had any wit about her, then he could dismiss her from his mind.

  William stepped forward to follow her, but Lady Charlotte surprised him. She did not slow down or change her direction to allow him to catch up.

  She kept walking and had not intended him to follow her at all. She was actually going into the house!

  William chuckled and received some strange looks from the ladies around him who were still, remarkably, listening to Miss Darby.

  Not every woman was all about the tricks. He shook his head, thrilled by the surprise. What an intriguing woman, beautiful but with no flirtation in her. No assumptions, no rule-breaking. Just a woman.

  “Miss Darby,” he found himself saying, unsure exactly why he was asking and ignoring the affronted look on her face as he interrupted her. “Tell me about Lady Charlotte.”

  “Lady Charlotte?” Miss Darby frowned. “Why?”

  Too late, William remembered it was not gentlemanly to appear interested in another woman when speaking with a woman you have just engaged for a social outing.

  “Because I would like to thank her for accompanying us next week,” he said with a hint of a smile as he took her hand. “Otherwise, I could not enjoy the pleasure,” he gave a gentle caress across her fingers, “of your company.”

  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 he
r 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?”

  Perhaps it was his bold question. Perhaps it was the lack of pleasantries. Or perhaps it was because there was no guile in his words. Whatever the reason, Lady Charlotte looked him in the eyes for the first time since he had seen her by the pianoforte.

  “You ask many questions for someone I have just met.”

  It was that look, so innocent and yet inviting, that spurred him on. Stepping into the room and with his voice low, he said, “Time can solve that problem.”

  She did not move, but her eyes narrowed. “You are well-rehearsed, Your Grace.”

  William laughed dryly. “Perhaps, but then I have studied the steps of elegant conversation closely. Do you not think that many in our society would have done well to do the same?”

  There was a rather knowing look in her gaze as she replied, “You speak very decidedly for a gentleman so recently raised to a title.”

  Well, of course, she would know that—all the true nobility had known each other from birth. Were they not all related, somehow?

  The news of his ascension must have caused ripples through society far more than he could guess.

  William took another step closer to her. “I may not have been born with blue blood, my lady, but it turns out you can inherit it.”

  Was that a flicker of a smile? Whatever it was, Lady Charlotte controlled herself immediately. “Some would argue true breeding cannot be inherited.”

  “If land, title, home, and horses can be, why not nobility?” he countered. “I think manners are taught, rather than entrenched in the bone.”

  His gaze raked across her face. She had not asked him to leave. She was watching him as a rabbit watched a hawk, almost certain she was prey, but wondering whether, if she just stayed still, he would leave her alone.

  “I-I do not know,” she said, faltering. “I have given little thought to it.”

  “You have not needed to,” William said calmly. There was magnetic energy to her, even without her trying. He felt every inch of himself want to be closer to her, to hear her speak. “You, my lady, have been blue-blooded from birth.”

  She seemed to distrust him. “And you were a soldier.”

  He could not hide his surprise. “Ye gods, woman, are you a soothsayer?”

  Heat seared his cheeks. He had always spoken his mind, and John had teased him for it—but to speak so in front of a lady!

  A lady who was laughing.

  “M-my lady, you must accept my apologies,” William stammered. “I did not mean to—I am sorry if I have offended.”

  “Offended?” She sat up straight as her laughter subsided, and the joy in her eyes did not disappear. “Your Grace, you remind me so much of my grandfather, I was shocked into laughter. I am more concerned that I have offended you.”

  Sweet relief poured through his soul as he took another step. He was standing right before her now. If he wanted, he could reach out and touch her.

  “Your grandfather?”

  She nodded. “He was an admiral and continuously startled my mother, his daughter, with his loud voice and abrasive thoughts. I rather liked him.”

  “It is strange how memories like that resurface after many years,” he said quietly. “But I am more interested in the memories I am making now.”

  Did she understand him? Her eyelashes fluttered as her gaze dropped. “Now, Your Grace?”

  “The sight of a beautiful woman. One whom I have managed to make smile.”

  She immediately rose. “I look forward to The Magic Flute with your Miss Darby, Your Grace. If you do not mind, you must excuse me, I need to find Matthews about—oh!”

  William gasped, too. The moment he had taken her hand, something stiffened in him, and not only his manhood, which had been twitching ever since he first caught her staring. No, it was a more deep, primal reaction.

  William stroked her hand as he had with Miss Darby, but this was different. Lady Charlotte was different. “I look forward to it, too.”

  She stared, and her lips parted. She leaned toward him, and William thought for a moment that she was going to allow him to kiss her.

  Instead, she leaned near his ear and whispered, “I shall give Miss Darby your regards.” Then she left him alone in the music room.

  Chapter Three

  No matter what she did, Charlotte could not get that strand of hair to stay put.

  She sighed, breath misting the looking glass in the crisp April morning. It was ridiculous. She had never been concerned with her looks, even when attending her first Season. She was far more interested in seeing the people she had heard so much about from her oldest brother, Arnold.

  Her nose scrunched. Arnold. Well, they were well rid of him.

  And tonight was nothing special. Her mind unwillingly traipsed back to the week before.

  “I look forward to it.”

  Charlotte started and almost dropped her diamond earbobs, fingers tightening around them.

  The Duke of Mercia. She was not going to get herself tangled over him, no matter how handsome he was. Not that she had noticed.

  Blowing out a frustrated breath and concentrat
ing this time, she carefully put on her mother’s diamond earbobs. They had been her favorite legacy, though she rarely wore them. There was little point. She was typically the third person at the opera, the third to dine, the third for a walk. An accessory to a courting couple. Largely ignored but necessary.

  She examined her reflection critically. Well, her gown was at least five seasons old and starting to be truly out of fashion. Her hair was completely untamable. But the diamonds were perfect.

  It was too much to hope that she and the duke would have a conversation, especially after she had been so dismissive. He had frightened her with his intensity, which drew her to him in a way she did not like.

  That was what she kept telling herself.

  “The carriage is here, my lady.”

  Matthews’s voice echoed up the stairs, and Charlotte smiled grimly in the looking glass. It was time. Grabbing her pelisse, she walked downstairs to see the butler holding her reticule for her.

  “The Axwick diamond earbobs,” he nodded. “I highly approve, my lady.”

  Charlotte blushed. Matthews meant well, had meant well for all twenty-five years he had served her family. He was practically one of them. But that did not explain…

  “Matthews,” she said briskly, taking the reticule, “may I ask you a question?”

  The butler raised an eyebrow.

  “Why did you decide to return with me to Bath? I would have thought Richard and Tabitha needed you at Stonehaven Lacey.”

  If she had not known Matthews so well, she could have missed the flicker of pride across his face.

  “They did inquire whether I would remain, my lady,” he said delicately, “but I made a promise to your mother that I would keep you under my care until…until you had a household of your own.”

  Charlotte flushed. Love for her mother, embarrassment that her butler thought five and thirty was not sufficient age to look after oneself, and the hint at matrimony.

  A knock on the front door interrupted them. Matthews stepped forward to open the door to reveal a shivering footman. “The carriage is waiting for Lady Charlotte.”

  She sighed. They had managed quite well without a carriage for over three years while the family finances were in disarray. Having one now felt strange and more often than not, she left it in the country. One was always at the beck and call of the horses, never the other way around. She must send it back to Richard, where the horses could enjoy the countryside.