Always the Chaperone

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Always the Chaperone Page 8

by Murdoch, Emily E K


  William’s mouth fell open. How could she possibly know? “You are not about to tell us that you, too, have seen a battlefield, are you?”

  Charlotte laughed and shook her head. “No, but I have lived through serious changes. There is no returning to your old life. No matter how much one may wish it.”

  “I have never heard anyone explain it that way before,” William said quietly, “nor that well.”

  No further words were needed. They understood each other.

  “I have much to learn,” John said quietly.

  William drained his teacup and placed it back onto its saucer. “And I am glad my younger brother never had to,” he said. “No man should. Now the war is over, I hope it will be many generations before anyone else has to.”

  “I believe that to be unlikely,” Charlotte said quietly.

  How was it that she understood not only his words but the meaning beneath them? He had never encountered a person, let alone a woman, who was able to pierce through his mutterings and see the truth.

  “Indeed,” he said heavily. “If the posturing of nations does not stop soon…”

  His voice trailed off, and they all fell into silence.

  Was this what polite society discussed? William had no idea, having spent so little time in it. This felt more intimate, more honest than any other conversation he had had since entering Bath. And it was Charlotte; she had drawn it from him.

  “Who would be a politician, eh?” John said with a shake of his head. “I was just thinking the other day, Lady Charlotte…”

  What was William doing here? For all the trappings of family name, title, and wealth, he was just a soldier. It was all he had known for so long, how to fight, how to protect, how to give, and take orders.

  Charlotte was a lady. A lady born and bred. She needed, nay, deserved someone who had grown up knowing which fork to use for the fish course.

  The chiming of the grandfather clock interrupted his thoughts.

  “Is that the time?” John stood hastily. “I do apologize, Lady Charlotte, but I am needed elsewhere. I had no idea how much time had flown!”

  Charlotte rose to her feet, and William almost staggered to his own, as she said, “Please, do not worry yourself, my lord. I have an appointment in town also.”

  “Perhaps I can escort you,” William offered.

  She smiled. “I would enjoy that.” She rang the bell and moved back to her seat.

  As she did so, John whispered to his brother, “You could have picked a more joyful topic for wooing.”

  “What did you expect from me?” William shrugged with a murmur.

  John shook his head as a footman entered the room with Charlotte’s pelisse.

  “Well, I am this way,” John said with a wink as the three of them headed for the door and stepped outside. “And I am sure you are both that way. Thank you, Lady Charlotte, for a delightful morning.”

  He bowed and started off down the street, whistling as he went.

  William grinned at Charlotte. “I thought we’d never lose him.”

  “He is like an excitable puppy.”

  “Yes, and a badly trained one!”

  “He is good company,” she countered as they fell in step with each other. “I like him.”

  “I cannot disagree with you. Some gentlemen are unfortunate in their brothers, whereas I have never found his companionship irksome.”

  “I experienced both, I believe,” Charlotte said softly. “My brother, Richard, is a true gentleman, and yet Arnold, who came from the same stock and same home, was utterly different. Cold. Cruel, even.”

  They turned a corner, and both simultaneously took a step to the left to avoid some horse droppings.

  “I am doubly fortunate,” William said, breathing out heavily. “I have never had any complaints when spending time with my siblings.”

  “And why do you wish to spend time with me?”

  The question had come from nowhere, but it was certainly Charlotte who had spoken. Her eyes blazed as she looked at him, just a hint of embarrassment tinging her cheeks.

  “Spend time with you?” he asked, stalling for time. “What do you mean?”

  She had stopped now, and he mirrored her, allowing the flow of people to continue around them.

  “I mean…does the line of Mercia not need an heir? I first made your acquaintance when chaperoning you for a potential wife. Do you…do you not still need to seek one?”

  It was the most vulnerable and direct statement she had ever spoken, and William swallowed before formulating his response.

  “I have John,” he said carefully, his gaze focused on her face. “He will have to do as an heir, for now.”

  “I am in earnest, William. No other gentleman is seeking out my company, and I need to know why.”

  He opened his mouth to say something clever but immediately closed it again. Why was he so drawn to Charlotte? No other lady had driven him this wild physically, that was certain. Her maturity and beauty combined were enough to keep him up at night.

  But it was more than that. Her conversation was so much more riveting than any other. She had sincere concerns and deep thoughts, solid opinions, and was not afraid to share them. And the way she laughed—it was unlike anyone he knew.

  “Because I enjoy myself the most when I am with you,” he said simply.

  Charlotte’s gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers twisting. “You are fortunate that I am not younger, Your Grace, or I would consider that a flirtation.”

  “You should,” he said seriously, reaching out to take her moving fingers in his. “More than flirtation. Charlotte…”

  A noise ahead stopped his words. Shouts and shrieks, some in laughter and some in pain.

  William’s gaze searched out the cause of the disturbance and saw where it was coming from a little further down the road. His blood started to boil.

  An elderly gentleman in a military uniform, from what William could see, was seated on the ground. His arms were over his head to protect himself from the stones being pelted at him by three youths who were all laughing.

  “Oh, no!” Charlotte exclaimed beside him.

  William had to do something.

  “Hey!” He ran toward them as fast as he could, anger building inside him. “How dare you!”

  The three offenders cared little for what William had to say and stared at him, waiting for whatever came next.

  “Who are you to stop us?” the tallest one challenged.

  William’s attention went to the gentleman on the ground, his hands still covering his face.

  Poor sod.

  “You cannot tell us what to do!” another of the lads called out.

  All three were dressed in apprentice garb, feeling joy in the harm they were inflicting on the old man. Not gentlemen, not even craftsmen yet. Just three boys with naught to do but harm another fellow human being.

  William straightened to his full height. For a moment, he was back in the army, a major shouting at privates who had been caught in the act of wrongdoing.

  But he had no jurisdiction here, no authority. The law had been broken, certainly, but what could he do, drag them to prison?

  Justice must be done. He was a duke, which held weight in society no matter where he was. No one else had stepped forward, although several people were walking past, their eyes averted.

  Perhaps the rage showed on his face, for the moment he took a step forward, the boys shrank back, appearing afraid.

  “I wasn’t doing no harm,” one of them said.

  Charlotte had reached his side as he spoke, “No harm? What in God’s name possessed you to start throwing stones at this man? Has he not sacrificed enough, fighting for his country? Wasn’t it enough of a disgrace that he was forced to live on the streets? You should be honoring him and feeding him, rather than throwing stones!”

  They looked at each other, shame clear on their faces. Charlotte had not said a word, and he could not tell whether she was disgusted by the
way he was treating these boys or shocked at his angry tone.

  “Come on,” one of them said, and the three of them slipped away into the crowd that had gathered around them.

  “T-thank you, sir.”

  Kneeling before the elderly man, William looked into his eyes. Without saying a word, he pulled out his pocketbook and offered the stranger a five-pound note.

  “For you,” he said gruffly.

  The man shook his head in refusal. “Five pounds? God knows I need it, sir, but I cannot take it.”

  William had already dropped the note into the gentleman’s lap, stood tall, and started walking away. He had to walk, had to move. He had to do something to forget his anger.

  Charlotte slipped her hand into his. “That was a very brave thing you just did.”

  William felt a little guilty for the spark of pleasure her words brought. “The idea of our men coming back here to live in poverty, suffering to no end, displeases me more than I can express.”

  “It is a disgrace,” she said softly.

  He nodded. “Who knows that I would have been any different?”

  As they walked, Charlotte looked back at the man still seated on the pavement. “You would never have lived like that.”

  William stopped in his tracks. “Why not? I came home to a title, but others return to no family, no friends, and no livelihood. They bring back the demons of the battlefield with them.”

  He had not intended his voice to be so loud nor his grip on her hand to be so tight. Charlotte swallowed, and he released her hand, lowering his gaze to the ground.

  “There is so much I do not understand,” she said, “but I am willing to learn.”

  All the bitterness disappeared from his heart. She never failed to surprise him. How many other ladies would have even thought it, let alone said the words?

  It was a few more minutes before he said quietly, “I should not have allowed my temper to get the better of me, especially with you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Would you say yes if I proposed, Charlotte? In seriousness?” He stopped again, watching her intently.

  Her eyes flickered to her left. “This is where my appointment is.”

  William turned to look. They were outside a dressmaker, and Charlotte was avoiding his gaze.

  “You have not answered my question.”

  “Is it possible for you to go ten minutes without proposing to me?” She smiled at him gently. “William, I do not believe you could make me that offer in seriousness. Good day, Your Grace.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was the noise of the hooves on the cobbles and the neighing of the horses that caught her attention. Charlotte smiled as she looked up through the window to see a carriage pull up in Queen Square with the Axwick livery painted carefully on the side of the door.

  They were home.

  Looking down at the letter still in her lap, she reread her brother’s handwriting.

  We will leave early to avoid any nonsense on the road and will aim to be with you by ten o’clock at the latest.

  She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It had just chimed a quarter past twelve. Well, they had their excuses now, of course. The Duke and Duchess of Axwick could be as late as they wanted in their condition.

  Folding up the letter and placing it on the small table beside her, Charlotte called out, “Matthews, they are here!”

  There was no answering shout from the butler, and a frown of confusion creased her brow until the sound of the front door opening echoed. He had already seen them, and as Charlotte peered through the window, she saw the elderly butler open the door to the carriage and offer a hand.

  She watched as Tabitha stepped down, straightening her pelisse as she stood and waited for her husband to dismount from the carriage on the other side. It was still too early for anyone who did not know Tabitha to see that she was with child, but if you knew what you were looking for, it was clear as day. The gentle curve of her stomach, the way she cupped it with her hand. Protective. Nurturing.

  Charlotte rose and smoothed down her own gown. She had been looking forward to their visit for days, and this was no time to start becoming envious. This was excellent news for her brother and sister-in-law. You will not tie yourself in knots about this, she warned herself silently.

  A few steps brought her into the hallway where the couple stood.

  “I wish you would be more careful, Tabitha,” Richard was saying sternly as his wife threw herself into Charlotte’s arms. “Now, really!”

  Charlotte laughed at the suddenness of it all, and the sisterly affection she was showered with by a woman who, really, she barely knew. Her courtship with her brother had been so short, there was barely time to become acquainted before they traipsed up the aisle.

  “I am careful,” shot back Tabitha as Matthews helped her out of her pelisse. “Do not concern yourself, Richard, you will give yourself gout.”

  “Gout! You are the one who is in a delicate state, not I!”

  Tabitha rolled her eyes and winked at Charlotte as she removed her bonnet. “Nonsense.”

  Charlotte glanced at her brother, who looked apoplectic. “Please, Tabitha, go and sit down in the drawing room.”

  “Sit down? I have been sitting down in a carriage for this very age! The last thing I wish to do is sit down.” Tabitha smiled at Charlotte and continued, “Now Charlotte, you must tell me—wait a moment…”

  Charlotte and Richard waited as Tabitha’s voice trailed away, her cheeks went pale, and she put a hand to her mouth.

  “You must excuse me. Matthews, I need a bowl!”

  She rushed down the corridor toward the kitchen in a whirl of skirts, and the door slammed behind her.

  “Should we go after her?” Charlotte asked anxiously. “Is she quite well?”

  “No,” said Richard heavily. “But that does not stop her from attempting to act like she is.” He saw his sister’s worried face and smiled. “You know Tabitha is with child. According to Doctor Lawrence, this is a completely natural stage of the process, but if you ask me, it feels like hard work. I do not know why any woman bothers to put up with it!”

  She returned his smile. “I think once the baby has arrived, you may think a little differently. Tabitha certainly will.”

  “We were delayed two hours because of all this stopping and vomiting out of carriages. I shall be glad to see the end of it.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a figure coming down the stairs.

  “Ah, Danvers,” Charlotte said.

  Her lady’s maid stopped at the foot of the stairs and bobbed a curtsey.

  “Would you mind seeing to the Duchess of Axwick?” Charlotte said quietly. “She is in the kitchen in search of a bowl and requires assistance?”

  Danvers blinked. “A bowl, my lady?”

  Richard smiled. “My wife expects to be confined by the end of the summer.”

  Understanding was swift. “I shall go and look after Her Grace this moment,” said Danvers with a nod.

  “And in the meantime, let’s sit down,” Richard said, not bothering to wait for Charlotte’s reply before turning to step into the drawing room.

  They seated themselves on either side of the fireplace, the fire blazing. Charlotte’s mind was with Tabitha in the kitchen. What was it like to know there was a child growing inside you? How did it feel to have one’s body utterly taken over to the needs of a baby you had not even met yet?

  “I do not believe I have given my congratulations in person,” she said hastily, aware that her role as hostess was being neglected. Really, it was strange to play host to one’s brother in the place where you had once lived together.

  “You have not,” her brother replied with a grin. “Do not worry about it, we have been inundated with congratulations from all. And really, until the child arrives, I am attempting not to get too excited.”

  “You are not?”

  Richard shook his head. “The doctor recommended not to. S
o many things can happen between now and when the babe is due to enter this world. He…he says we should not expect an easy time of it.”

  Charlotte could hear the concern in his voice, both for his child and his wife, but did not pursue it. Her brother was a quiet soul. When he was ready to share more, he would.

  “I am pleased to see both of you—or all three of you,” she corrected with a laugh. “But I must say, Richard, I am not entirely sure whether it was wise for you to travel all this way, just for two days here in Bath. Why come so far to stay so little?”

  He shrugged. “We wanted to see you but have no other desire to remain in Bath. Besides, the air here is too thick for a woman with child. I would rather have her back in the safety of Stonehaven Lacey.”

  There was something so different about him that Charlotte was quite startled. This was not the brother she knew, the one she had known for the last thirty years. He was younger, somehow. More carefree, less concerned about the world. The heaviness of their family’s debts had gone, which must form part of it, but there was something more.

  “You examine me.”

  She jumped and saw her brother smiling.

  “Only to understand you better,” she said hastily. “It is remarkable, the change in you. Marriage clearly agrees with you!”

  “I will admit, and only to you, Charlotte, for I know you are the soul of discretion, that marriage is more than I could ever have wished for.”

  It was strange, hearing those words from him. He had been so adamant for years that he would never wed, that the St. Maur branch of the Axwick line would end. Balls, dances, card parties, even polite visiting, he had avoided them all. He had been determined to keep to his own vow.

  And that had all changed when he had met Miss Tabitha Chesworth. Or more accurately, Charlotte reminded herself, when she had introduced them.

  “I was a fool to attempt to avoid it,” he was saying. “With each passing day, I realize the extent of my idiocy. If you ask me, Lotty, everyone should marry!”

  Her stomach twisted, and her gaze fell to her hands in her lap.

 

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