Page 13 of Always the Chaperone

William smiled. No matter how much his brother jested, there was a serious soul in there somewhere, and every now and again, he got a glimpse of it.

“Honestly,” he said. “I do not mind. Take Miss Darby, if you can persuade her to have you. Be happy.”

William thought of when he had touched Charlotte’s arm, the instant their fingers had touched after he had passed her the program.

He had known women, all soldiers had. It was part of the life on campaign, and no one thought much of it—or of them. They were just women, there to perform a service.

This was new. He had never experienced anything like it before, and unless he was mistaken, neither had Charlotte.

John drained his glass once more. “You are right—Miss Darby has plenty of friends, bound to. I will ask her to invite one of them to the carriage ride.”

William was startled from his stupor. “Why?”

“Why, for you, of course!” John laughed, spraying the table with port. “We cannot have you getting lonely!”

He could have blamed the port or the heat of the room. But it was because Lady Charlotte had been on his mind continuously since the opera, barely aware how it had ended, conscious she was leaving his presence, and he had not said half the things he had wanted to say to her.

These thoughts caused William to take a drink and say without thinking, “No need, Gloucester. I will have Charlotte.”

A wide grin crept over John’s mouth. “Oh, a new conquest! And why have I not heard of her, you sly old dog?”

William laughed. “Not heard of her? You have met her several times, you clod, and she accompanied us to the opera. Lady Charlotte. The chaperone.”

“Y-you cannot be serious!” He managed to place his drink down. “I hate to scoff, Mercia, but your sense of humor is getting wild! The chaperone!”

Irritation sparked in William’s heart as his brother laughed, but he did not say anything. Perhaps the second bottle of port had been a mistake.

“No, you mock me by suggesting her,” John said, still grinning. “Dear God, the chaperone! Well, if it’s a nursemaid you are looking for, I think you have found the perfect candidate.”

He did not think. At his brother’s words, William stood for a fight, fists raised, pulse pounding in his ears.

“Steady on there, Mercia!” His brother raised his hands in surrender, eyes wide.

The gentleman with the graying beard looked irritated, evidently unable to concentrate on his reading, and after folding his newspaper, walked out of the room.

William took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He was being a fool; anyone could see that. She was not his to defend, and he was an idiot for even suggesting it. He lowered himself back into his chair.

“What has got into you?”

John looked genuinely concerned, and William shook his head. “I-I won’t take any rudeness about a lady, especially a St. Maur. She is nobility, born and bred into it, not like us. I will not have it.”

Why was he so overwhelmed with anger? It was ridiculous, this sudden need to protect a woman who was not even here.

A vision of Lady Charlotte standing behind him as a horde of French soldiers approached them hit his mind, and he reveled in the way she clung to him.

William shook his head. It was unseemly, and what’s more, a fantasy. There was no chance Lady Charlotte would consider him a suitor. She had been charmed by many a gentleman who had been born for such a thing, and she was still unmarried. Evidently, she had turned them all down.

“I will not say another word about her.” John still appeared shaken by his brother’s violent outburst. “I trust I am safe?”

William nodded. He had to get this obsession under control. Lady Charlotte was nothing to do with him and was merely the chaperone of his brother’s conquest.

A smile crept over his face. Perhaps that was all for now. But things could change.

Chapter Five

It was fivepast eleven. There was no way to ignore it. Charlotte could see the clock over the mantelpiece from where she was seated.

Five past eleven, and they had not yet arrived.