Page 16 of Always the Chaperone

William shrugged. “To be frank, I would rather be with you.”

She snorted and covered her mouth with her hand.

Her companion laughed as they turned the corner to Milsom Street. “You do not believe me. Why not?”

“I am past my prime,” she responded without any hint of self-compassion. “It is clear my time as the giggling girl in the first curricle is over, though to tell the truth, I did not experience it much. No, at my time of life, it is right and proper to be the chaperone, and I am happy to be.”

It was probably the least bitter speech she had ever made about her chaperoning life, and Charlotte was pleased to have managed it.

But William was evidently unconvinced. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Happy to be a chaperone,” he said baldly, beholding her with those fierce eyes.

Charlotte’s fingers fidgeted. How was it possible that this gentleman could pull the truth from her? “Not particularly, no.”

He snorted, and she could not help but look up. “Then why in God’s name do it? You are more than capable of catching the attention of a gentleman, after all. You are doing it right now.”

Was it possible to be any hotter?

She cleared her throat. “I do not want to discuss this with anyone.”

“No, you do not,” he said, far more serious. “But if not with me, then who else? I am neither brother nor intimate, and I will not judge you nor laugh at you.”

She hesitated. It was tempting to pour her heart out, but how could she trust him? She barely knew him. What if her words found their way into the gossip pages of the local rag?

She forced her fingers to stop moving. If not now, then when? If not him, then who?

“It feels…” She coughed but continued as William smiled. “It feels as though I am being left behind.”

He shrugged. “I do not see how.”

“Well, of course, you don’t, you are a gentleman!” she snapped, temper rising. “Gentlemen marry at any age, and there is no comment on it whatsoever. But for ladies… most of my peers have children of their own nearing fourteen, and in a few years, they themselves will be eligible for a match.”

“And that bothers you?”

She hesitated again. It was madness to be revealing her deepest thoughts to this gentleman, and in an open curricle, too! But there was something about him. Something made her trust him.

“More so with each passing year. You see other people fall in love. They meet someone they have never known before, and all of a sudden, the rest of the world doesn’t matter anymore, only each other,” she said wistfully. “They find their perfect partner, the one person who they can spend their life with. And then there’s me.”

William watched her, but Charlotte found she did not feel embarrassed. Then he nodded sagely. “Truth be told, I am informed my title needs another heir—poor John isn’t sufficient—and I had resigned myself to it and carried out those required steps to meet with the ladies of society. But since I have found you, that search has been…intolerable.”

Heat rushed to Charlotte’s cheeks as she blustered, “Come now, Your Grace—William. You cannot be serious.”

Surely, he could not, for who would even consider her as a potential mother at her age? She tried not to look at him as they sped down a slope, hoping the breeze would cool her face.

“Why not?”

Before she knew it, a hand was placed on her thigh. It seared her skin as though his touch was a brand, as though he was marking her for his own. She gasped at the intensity of the sensation.

“What you have forgotten, Charlotte,” William said in a low voice, dripping with desire, “is though you are acting as a chaperone for Miss Darby, no one is acting as a chaperone for you.”

Impossible to think clearly, she tried to ignore the weight of his fingers curled around her thigh in that delightful way.

“I do not need a chaperone—oh!”

She had only managed to say a few words before she was overcome as William lightly stroked her inner leg. Her whole body was on fire, the flames starting wherever his fingers touched. Even through the material of her gown, every caress seared.