“Lady Charlotte.”
She jumped. The gentleman on whom her thoughts had been so eagerly running was standing right beside her.
He looked dashing in his tailored coat, embroidered waistcoat peeking through. He smiled faintly, and all Charlotte’s worries and concerns melted. He did something wild to her, and she was about to return the smile when her gaze shifted.
William was not alone. On one side of him stood his brother, John, waving at someone else. On the other side of him was a young woman—very young. She could only be fifteen or so and dressed in a fine muslin dress with pearls decorating her bonnet.
The girl caught Charlotte’s eyes and blushed. Tugging at William’s coat sleeve, she whispered something in his ear. Charlotte wanted to turn away, but she seemed unable to. William nodded, and the girl giggled, eyes flashing toward Charlotte.
How dare he. After their conversation just a few nights ago, after she had been so open, so vulnerable! To attend church with a girl young enough to be her daughter.
“Why, Lady Charlotte!”
She blinked and then turned to face him. “Your Grace.”
“What a pleasure it is to see you this fine morning,” he said.
She swallowed. “Good morning, Your Grace, my lord…miss.”
It was impossible to hide the coldness of her tones, and the young woman wilted under Charlotte’s gaze.
William looked from one to the other. “I was just saying to Prudence…”
“I cannot believe you,” Charlotte said quietly, attempting to keep her voice calm and level. Lady Romeril had just taken the seat beside her. “After all your fine words, here you are with the youngest chit of a girl I have ever seen!”
The girl flushed and glanced at William, who opened his mouth to speak, but Charlotte stopped him.
“I do not want to hear it. I knew you were just waiting for someone prettier and younger, and you have the gall to deny it.”
John opened his mouth to speak, but Charlotte would not allow it. She would have her say and then leave. To think she had believed him.
“Well, this foolish girl may have believed your lies, Your Grace, but I am through with you. Good day.”
The girl looked absolutely mortified. A smile crept over William’s face.
“What have you got to smile about?” she inquired coldly. She should leave, she should just walk away, but she couldn’t. Something about him kept her here. Some invisible chain between them.
William spoke in a quiet voice. “You are jealous.”
“I am not jealous!” she blustered. “I am impressed, I suppose, at how quickly you have overcome your feelings for me.”
The words were painful to admit. The girl was still looking terrified, and she moved closer to William as though he would protect her from this madwoman.
Shame mingled with defiance rushed through Charlotte. It was her right to speak her mind, and what did it matter that this girl was in the way?
William leaned down, hesitated, and with a wry look said, “Lady Charlotte, may I introduce you to Prudence. Lady Prudence Lennox, my sister.”
Charlotte stared in mortification. “Sister.”
He nodded, his grin never disappearing.
The ground cracking open and swallowing her up was the only solution to this situation. Why had she not thought of that? Why did she have to speak before she had taken a moment to think?
“You…you only mentioned Honora,” she said uselessly.
He nodded. “Prudence is but fourteen and has come to visit us during the Easter holidays from her school in Kent. Pru, go and find a seat with John, won’t you?”
The girl nodded. William’s siblings stepped away from him. “You have no reason to be jealous. I spoke the truth when I said you are the only lady I am courting.”
Charlotte could feel the heat of his touch through her gown, and in a wild moment, she wanted to throw herself at him, kiss him, and tell him everything was settled between them.
“You must forgive me, William. And apologize to your sister for me. I know it will be hard for her to believe, but I meant her no harm. I was just surprised and find it hard to believe you are in earnest, William. I do not have a high opinion of most gentlemen, and one of my deepest fears is…is that you are teasing me. Jesting with me.”
It took courage to admit those dark thoughts, and Charlotte stared at him, looking for any hint of revulsion.
But William’s face fell. “Do you actually believe that? Do you truly think so little of me, or yourself?”
It was strange to have such an intimate conversation at the end of a pew in church with countless others milling about, bowing, gossiping, hoping to see and be seen. But Charlotte looked into his eyes and knew she could not run away.
“I do not wish to, but experience has taught me people interested in a woman like me are after something.”
“Yes.” William nodded seriously. “You.”
His hand had not left her arm, and Charlotte suddenly felt the need to escape his touch, to free herself from this anchor.
“You say that so easily,” she said quietly. “I am still becoming acquainted with you. It is only a few weeks since we first met.”
“You know all the important things about me.”
She shook her head. It could not be this simple. “No, there is so much about you I do not know. Your favorite color, piece of music, where you were born, the food you hate.”
“Those things do not matter,” he said. “What matters is how I feel about you. How we feel about each other. What I do not understand is whether you feel anything for me.”
She hesitated. What did she feel for him? How could she translate desire into words? The heat she felt every time he looked at her, how whenever she was in his presence, she never wanted to leave, and when any other woman spoke to him, she wanted to rip her away from him, for William was Charlotte’s.
But it was deeper than that. The way he laughed, that lilt in his voice when he thought he was going to say something amusing. The grin he made when someone else did. Every facet of him made her love him more.
It was not her feelings she doubted.
She bit her lip. It was time to voice one of the deepest concerns she had, and her cheeks burned to even think it here at church.
“Perhaps…perhaps you merely wish to seduce me.”
At the worst possible moment, the organ music rose in volume, and Reverend Michaels started walking down the nave toward the altar.
“Come on,” William muttered. His grip on her arm changed, becoming a pull that forced her to her feet.
“What?”
It was clear now that his intention was that she join the Lennox siblings, who almost took up an entire pew on their own. She sat at the end of the pew with William on her right. Lady Prudence was staring at her curiously.
“Good morning, dear friends,” Reverend Michaels began with a smile as he gazed at his flock. “And what a wonderful morning it is. As we come together to celebrate the bounty of spring and the coming of summer, we look to God, the Creator…”
“If I merely wished to seduce you,” a low whisper spoke into her ear, “then I would have abandoned your company long ago. Charlotte, you are important to me. Our time together is important to me. I was under the impression you enjoyed it, too.”
Charlotte clasped her hands tightly in her lap.
“Why would I go to the trouble of introducing my sister to you if I was not serious in my intentions?
She glanced at him. “Intentions?”
“You must think me an awful cad if you do not believe I have greater plans than sitting beside you in church one morning. One day, I would like to meet you at that altar with Reverend Michaels and a few witnesses in attendance.”
She would not read more in his words than was already there.
“We will start with hymn number fifty-nine,” the reverend directed.
Though she knew the hymn, she made no attempt to sing. How could she? I
am Lady Charlotte St. Maur, she told herself. You do not have to do anything, speak to anyone, or do anything unless you want to.
The church service disappeared in a blur punctuated by moments of accidental intimacy, her hand brushing up against William’s as they placed their hymnals back on the pew.
It was almost a relief when Reverend Michaels brought his hands together. “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”
“We will,” Charlotte chorused automatically with the congregation.
John rose quickly. “Pru and I will see you outside, William, do not rush.”
They were gone before Charlotte could say anything more in apology to the youngest Lennox.
“John is quite eager that we continue as friends, you know,” William said quietly. “Despite any…misunderstandings.”
She gave a wry laugh. “Friends? William, I hardly know what that word would mean for us. Friends, acquaintances, lovers, courters? What are we?”
“Ah, Lady Charlotte!”
She sighed. She knew that voice and did not need Lady Romeril casting aspersions rightly or wrongly about the nature of her conversation with William.
“I thought I saw you there,” declared Lady Romeril, who pushed her way along the pew. “We barely had a moment to talk before this gentleman wrenched you from me. Good morning, Your Grace, I hope I am not interrupting?”
“Not at all,” he said gallantly with a smile. “But you will have to excuse me, Lady Romeril, for I am afraid I am holding my siblings up for their afternoon engagement. Lady Charlotte, I am your servant.”
He bowed and kissed her hand. Then he was gone.
Lady Romeril did not wait long to begin again. “I must say, this hot weather is doing absolutely nothing for me. We older ladies must be wary of sudden changes, for it does naught but ill to our health, I am sure you will agree!”
Charlotte stared in disbelief at the woman who was easily twice her age, if not more. We older ladies?
“It is certainly a warm day,” she said hastily. “I had not expected it to be so warm, with the wind yesterday.”
“Ah, but now we can expect warmer weather, and I must change my pelisses,” Lady Romeril replied with a smug look. “I have so many, you see. Why, when I last saw the Prince Regent, dear Prinny, I said to him…”
“Yes,” Charlotte said without really heeding her words.
“…the Duke of Mercia?”
Charlotte started and saw Lady Romeril staring.
“I said, are you still acting as chaperone for the Duke of Mercia?” Lady Romeril repeated. “I know he is still on the hunt for a bride, for I have seen no announcement. Has he found a suitable lady?”
Charlotte swallowed. It was impossible not to see the irony of the situation. How could she tell one of the matriarchs of the ton that it was she who seemed to be receiving his addresses?
“You know,” she said slowly. “I think he has.”
Chapter Twelve
Thirty-six hours. He had attempted not to count them, but it was impossible. It had been thirty-six hours since he had seen Lady Charlotte St. Maur.
William breathed out slowly to calm his frantically beating heart. It was pathetic, standing out here in the freezing cold night, thinking about how he should have spent every one of those hours with Charlotte, rather than apart from her.
Don’t tease me anymore, Charlotte.
It was intolerable, pacing up and down Queen Square. He had been convinced that she was the one for him, the only one.
But he had to be sure. This wasn’t France where pretty girls could be wooed within hours and left within minutes.
No, this was Bath, the height of society, and he was a duke now. Taking Lady Charlotte to bed could have consequences. He could barely resist her, and he was almost sure she wanted him. He wanted her. All of her.
William stamped his feet as he paused outside Charlotte’s house. This was ridiculous If he did not get a move on soon, there was every chance someone would walk by and assume he was there to burgle the place, not pound the door down to get his hands on the lady of the house.
It was now or never. Despite years in the army, some nights more terrible than any man should ever endure, William had never been frightened of entering a battle. Not like this.
But then, he had never had so much to lose.
As though controlled like a puppet on a string, he walked awkwardly up the steps and rang the bell.
He shivered from anticipation as he waited. In mere moments, he would see her again, and if he played his cards right…
The front door opened, and a stern face appeared. “Yes?”
William started. He had not considered Matthews intimidating before, but he stood as though guarding the gates of heaven. And wasn’t he?
“Good evening, Matthews,” he managed to say. “Is Lady Charlotte at home?”
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 decid
ed 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?
Charlotte. Her name made him shiver all over. With purpose and certainty, William reached out and opened the door.
There she was, just as he had imagined her. Standing by the fire, book in hand, dressed in a nightgown barely covered by a thin dressing gown, reaching for the bell.
William’s jaw fell open. It was as though, once again, she had walked straight from his mind and into the world.
“Charlotte,” he breathed.
She looked up and yelped at the sight of him, her book sliding to the floor.
“William!” she said, quite evidently shocked to see him. “You must not–I am not dressed for–Matthews said someone needed a chaperone…”
Her voice trailed away as she became conscious of her apparel. William grinned. It was impossible to be more delighted. He had always wondered what had been underneath those drab gowns, and now he knew. A body so delectable, he wondered how he had managed to keep his lips and teeth away from her for so long. A slender waist and rounded breasts. Long legs waiting to encircle him. Waiting for him. Ready for him.
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