Page 23 of Always the Chaperone

It was not possible a man like him, a man at all, would offer her marriage. No one ever had. No one considered her true marriage material. If she was honest, she had never considered herself that way either.

“If she had any decency, she would leave Bath,” said a stout woman to her companion. “Throwing her heels in the air like that, what does she think she’s doing?”

“I heard Miss Tilbury cares not for such rules,” revealed her companion with a shocked look. “And when I spoke to…”

Their voices died away as Charlotte progressed on, and their gossip about the Earl of Marnmouth’s mistress was not enough to distract her.

Marriage.Though she craved it and longed to be loved and wanted in such a way, marriage frightened her.

To be so wholly devoted to another person, to never do anything without them, it scared her. Overwhelming. Engulfing.

Reaching the opposite wall again, Charlotte turned carefully, ensuring she did not bump into anyone, and looked back across the room. Though she could no longer hear their conversations, William was still surrounded by the same girls. One of them threw her head back and laughed.

Something strange stirred in her. It was a new emotion, part determination to prove herself, part heady desire to be the one everyone looked at.

She didn’t want anyone else to laugh at William’s jokes. This was not like her, this impulse to put herself forward—but if she did not, she would never know whether she could.

She took a deep breath. Her corset was too tight, it seemed so recently. She would have to remember to tell Danvers.

Ignoring tradition, Charlotte broke from the pack and started to stride directly toward William.

Those she passed gasped or moved hurriedly out of the way, and a few muttered, and she caught the wordsstrangeandso unlike her. She ignored them all.

William’s admirers turned, open-mouthed, to stare. William grinned, one hand in his pocket, but did not say a word.

Charlotte swallowed. Well, she had come this far. “You will not mind if I borrow him, will you?”

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed William’s hand and pulled him toward the doors.

Now the gasps were more audible, and someone behind her laughed. Miss Theodosia Ashbrooke was close by and actually pointed them out to her companion, and the footman on the door gaped.

What did she care for the opinions of people she did not even like? In that moment, when an unknown gentleman had been so discourteous at Braedon’s ball, she had fled—but why should she bow to society’s rules at every turn? She was sick of the stuffiness of the Pump Room, sick of the formality of it all. She had to get out of there, and she wanted him with her.

She did not think until they stepped outside, and suddenly all the movement in her legs stopped. William looked delighted.

“Well, Lady Charlotte, what was all that about?”

She felt giddy and had forgotten to take a full breath. “Did you not give me the signal?” she asked airily, not attempting to hide her smile.

William’s brow furrowed, and she appreciated his handsomeness. “The signal?”

She nodded. “To rescue you from all of those girls?”

The street was deserted. Rain seemed to be keeping everyone inside. William smiled and stepped closer, closer than was proper—but then who was there to see?

“I did not even think to,” he said, taking her hand. “But I must say, I wish I had done so much earlier so I could escape their company and enjoy yours. Shall we?”

He indicated the pavement, and Charlotte hesitated. In all her wild excitement, she had not thought this far. All she had wanted to do was remove him from those chittering girls, and she had done so.

But now she had William to herself, and it was impossible to leave his company. She had longed for it, truth be told, for three days.

She nodded. As they walked leisurely out of the Abbey Courtyard to Stall Street, she spotted a few people who had left the Pump Room to stare. She tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore them.

“I hope I did not truly interrupt an important conversation,” she said quietly.

He shook his head. “Just another discussion on the weddings they were attending, what bonnets they had chosen, whether ribbons should be wide or narrow this Season…nothing of import.”

She smiled. “I am afraid I have no conversation on the subject of ribbons.”