Page 21 of Always the Chaperone

He coughed. “John was unwell, recovering from a bout of influenza, so Honora and I went together. It was a rather dull affair for my sister, with few gentlemen, but I ran into some friends from my previous regiment. Honora grew tired and wanted to go home, and I was having the time of my life.”

His words stuck in his throat.

“And so,” Charlotte prompted gently, “she walked home on her own.”

“It was selfish of me,” he said fiercely. “I was far more interested in my own enjoyment, and we were but two streets away from the rooms we had taken. How difficult could it be, I thought, for her to walk two streets? Before I could tell her to be careful, she had already gone.”

They walked for a minute in complete silence before he continued.

“That was the last time I saw her.” His voice cracked as he knew it would, but the guilt was impossible to ignore. “Honora never made it home. She has been missing from that day, and it has been three painful years, and we are still no closer to knowing what befell my sister that night.”

They crossed the street and only then was the silence broken.

“That is awful,” Charlotte whispered. “I had no idea, William. No idea at all.”

He breathed out the tension in his shoulders. “Well, it is hardly polite dinner conversation. Even now, I still enter every room in the hope someone will turn around and it will be Honora.”

There, he had trusted her with his darkest secret, his deepest fear, and hope.

He had expected Charlotte to shy away, to chastise him for such reckless care of his sister.

She did neither of those things. Instead, she took his hand and slipped her fingers between his. “There was nothing you could have done, William,” she said quietly. “You could never have predicted it.”

William squeezed her hand, not trusting his voice, but feeling a new closeness with her.

But he could not wallow in self-pity; he did not deserve it. “I have heard the murmurs of course, the gossips wondering whether anyone in the family had something to do with it. But the very idea someone could hurt her!” Bitterness seeped into every word.

“They always know exactly how to hurt you,” Charlotte said quietly, and as he glanced at her, she smiled. “That is why gossips have such power, and the best way to break that power is to ignore them or remove yourself from the situation. Why do you think I ran out of the ball tonight?”

She stopped suddenly, and William was pulled toward her, their hands still joined.

“Why have you stopped walking, Charlotte?”

“Because this is my house.”

What a fool for not noticing! He had been so lost in his words, pouring out his soul to her, he had forgotten where they were.

He chuckled. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Thank you for seeing me safely home.”

William swallowed. With any other lady, he would simply kiss her. Take her in his arms and show her, not tell her, how he felt.

But this was Charlotte. She was already more important than any other woman he had ever met. He did not want to get this wrong. He had one opportunity to show her exactly what she meant to him.

“I have not got you home safely yet,” he said and pulled her up the steps, toward the front door.

“You can consider your duty performed.”

“Nothing with you is a duty, Charlotte.” He had not meant his words to be serious, but with such a tantalizing woman before him, it was impossible for them not to be. Without thinking, just feeling, he leaned her against the door. The gasp that escaped her lips pushed him over the edge, and he crushed his lips on hers.

Charlotte resisted at first, but as William brought his arms around her, she softened in his hold, deepening the kiss by allowing her lips to slowly part.

It was even more glorious than he could have thought. Everything about her drew him in, so fragile and so strong. She moved against him, moaning. And in response, he groaned, wanting to seduce her.

But no. If he was going to do this, he would do it properly.

He broke the kiss but did not permit her to move away from the door.