Page 19 of Always the Chaperone

“Your Grace, this is a fine meeting!” Miss Emma Tilbury greeted him with a wicked smile, one which had already felled a duke or two, but William had not taken his eyes from Charlotte. She looked up, saw him coming, and flushed. With embarrassment? With pleasure?

It did not matter. She had seen him and reacted.

Before he reached her, Charlotte rose elegantly. It was not until then that he realized his heart was pounding.

“Charlotte,” he said breathlessly, cursing himself silently for sounding like a fool.

“Your Grace, have you had the pleasure of being introduced to Lady Letitia Cavendish?”

She extended her hand gracefully to indicate the woman who had been seated beside her, who had jumped to her feet, pink with embarrassment.

William blinked. This had not been the conversation he had expected, and though blindsided by the introduction, he was not fool enough to miss the name. Lady Letitia Cavendish. A relation of the Duke of Devonshire, then.

He sighed. Decorum, propriety, elegance. All that was expected of him now, as a member of this elite club, which seemed to create rules for the simple pleasure of enforcing them.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.” Lady Letitia curtsied awkwardly, evidently unsure where to look.

William’s face softened. The poor girl was crippled with shyness, that much was evident. This ball was probably more of a punishment than a pleasure.

He bowed low and smiled. “Lady Letitia. What an honor to make your acquaintance. Lady Charlotte, I have come here expressly to ask you to dance. What say you?”

He had thought, foolishly, she would not refuse him in public and certainly not before her friend.

“No, thank you, Your Grace,” she said quietly, her eyes unwavering. “I have no wish to dance this evening. Besides, I am accompanying Lady Letitia and have no wish to leave her side.”

The flush tinging her cheeks did nothing to soften the irritation in William. This was a new experience for him: a refusal.

When a major, women were interested in him because of his uniform but would not consider him a serious suitor. He may have bedded them, but he had not bothered to pursue them. After he was made Duke of Mercia, ladies became far more interested in his person.

But Lady Charlotte was different. She was not impressed. So, what would tip the scales for her, deeds?

“You forget, Lady Charlotte,” he said carefully. “I am a soldier. I am used to waiting out the enemy.”

“I am well stocked for a siege,” she countered. “Perhaps you had better rethink your tactics.”

“I know no other.” William grinned. “And I am more than willing to stick by your side the entire evening, to track you, waiting for the right moment to strike. Are you ready to spend the entirety of the night with me at your side?”

She smiled and looked at him intently. William found his breath stuck in his throat until she replied quietly, “Well then. To avoid a war, I had better surrender.”

His grin widened. Could she be thinking of their encounter in the curricle?

“Lady Letitia, may I introduce you to Mrs. Coulson?” Charlotte was saying to her charge, deftly handing her responsibility as chaperone over to a matronly woman who nodded sagely. “Mrs. Coulson, Lady Letitia Cavendish.”

The older woman moved to take Charlotte’s place beside the younger lady. He watched the transition with his heart thumping. Even in the midst of her own story, she ensured her duty was performed.

Her fingers were warm on his hand as he led her to the dance floor to join the set. Or was that his own hand pulsating with heat? It was impossible to tell. All William knew was that his heart was thumping wildly because of her.

That changed as he noticed with surprise that people were openly pointing. One of them laughed, and an unpleasant snicker echoed around the room.

William glanced at Charlotte. Her eyes were downcast, and her cheeks were pale as her shoulders slumped.

It was not difficult to guess the cause of her upset, and as William placed her in the set, he said in a low voice, “Ignore them.” The music began before he could say any more, and as he moved forward with the gentlemen in a row, he repeated, “Ignore them, Charlotte.”

Forced to step back with the others as part of the dance before she was able to reply, Charlotte held her head up high and focused on him.

How could anyone look at her and not see her worth? How could they look and laugh?

The ladies stepped forward, and he said quietly, “You are the most beautiful woman in this room, Charlotte.”