Page 13 of How to Win a Wallflower
The dog sat, his tail wagging briskly in the dust of a stoop that hadn’t been swept in God knew how long, looking up at Charlotte adoringly.
Trying to ignore the way his companion’s immediate acceptance of Charlotte made John’s insides tighten, he focused on his uninvited guest. “You visited yesterday. Was it not inappropriate then?” It would be best for all involved if Lady Charlotte came over less.
If she thought him a grouch, she didn’t give a hint of it. “Yesterday I brought food with me. In my experience, society will overlook a lot of questionable behavior if you sweeten the experience with a good meal.”
“And today?” Surely her standing alone on his doorstep, in full view of those who were walking down the street, was also questionable.
“Today, we’re to promenade.”
John could not think of a less appealing way to spend the afternoon. The thought of getting dressed up and strolling through theton, leaving himself wide open to any pointed arrows they shot his way, made him shudder. “Lady Charlotte—”
“Call me Charlotte.” Again, she hit him with that bright smile, so dazzling he almost forgot what he was about to say.
“Charlotte, this isn’t a good time.”
A small crease formed between her brows. “Why not? What were you doing?”
“Sleeping.” And enjoying every minute. Especially the dreams he was having of raven hair and pink lips and skin so soft it begged for his touch. No one in their right mind gave up dreaming for the odious task of walking through Hyde Park.
The small snort she gave dislodged a brick in the wall that he was desperately trying to erect between them. “Goodness. Well done,” she said. “I would sleep until mid-afternoon every day if my commitments allowed it. How heavenly that must be.”
“Quite.” And he would still be sleeping if she hadn’t invited herself over.
“But you’re awake now, and we can take Newton for a walk.”
Newton barked. His tail swished side to side with excited vigor, his jaw lolling open, his lips pulled back in a wide doggy smile.
Blast.John sighed, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Now there is no choice. You uttered the ‘W’ word.”
***
John hadn’t been to Hyde Park in well over a decade. He had driven past it a few times in recent days as he traversed London paying calls on all the tradesmen to whom he owed money, but each time he’d been so focused on the tasks before him that he hadn’t paid attention to theton’s favorite playground.
He and Charlotte were gaining the attention of the flocks of women who strolled the path and picnicked on the lawn. They would look in his direction and snap open their fans, bending their heads to whisper behind the decorated rice paper.
Nausea swirled in his stomach. He tried to relax, but his muscles remained clenched tight and his jaw clamped shut.
Charlotte looked perfectly comfortable under such a microscope. She acknowledged the strangers with a quick wave or greeting but never allowed them to engage her in lengthy conversation, deftly rebuffing all questions directed at him in a manner that left no one offended.
Despite her apparent willingness to be at his side, she would pull subtly on his arm each time a new person caught her attention, as though she would flutter from one person to the next were he not there weighing her down.
He would leave her to her socializing, if he could. If walking off mid-promenade weren’t exceptionally rude. If Newton wouldn’t consider a walk cut short the grandest of betrayals.
Yet, regardless of his discomfort at the onslaught of people, the touch of her hand on his forearm felt like a mainstay. When the gossip around them threatened to overwhelm him, he focused his attention on that point, where the warmth of her fingers through her gloves held him steady.
“I have a solution for our problem,” she said once they had reached a relatively deserted section of the park.
Warning bells rang. “Ourproblem?” It had been a mistake to reveal so much to her yesterday. But there was something about her that teased words from him when he’d normally stay quiet. Despite the lack of logic or reason, his instincts were to trust this woman whom he barely knew.
His body swayed toward her, unbidden, without permission or input from his mind.
“Yes,” she said. “Ourproblem. I love Edward. His dilemmas are mine. You’re Edward’s oldest friend, so your dilemmas obviously concern him, which means your problems are ours, which is lucky for you because I amverygood at problem-solving.”
She was so like her brother. She shared the same Wildeforde arrogance. The same Wildeforde loyalty. The former was a characteristic not uncommon among theton. The latter was a trait he was unused to, given its utter absence within his own family.
But Wilde had been a steadfast friend for decades, always by John’s side in the face of cruel taunts and unlikely challenges. That his sister was equally faithful should not have been unexpected.
Luckily, Charlotte barreled on with no need for him to put his thoughts into suitable words.
