Page 15 of Always the Chaperone

What could she say? Either announce she did not think it a good idea, thus silently accusing John of ill intentions, cancel the day entirely, or…

Miss Darby would never forgive her if she canceled her time with the Marquess of Gloucester.

What’s more,and this thought caused Charlotte to stand up straighter,her St. Maur name was well-respected in Bath, and if she declined to chaperone him, John would struggle to find anyone else. His reputation amongst the mamas of society would be ruined, and that would, in turn, ruin his chances of marriage this Season, if not longer.

Charlotte twisted her fingers around her reticle. There was no choice in the matter, and she had almost resolved to allow it with a short, sharp word with John later about taking advantage of her good nature when her eyes fell on William.

John was watching her innocently, hopeful but concerned he had gone too far.

Not so with his brother. She stepped back at the hunger on William’s face, his eyes filled with such intensity, she had to move. He was staring so desperately; he might convince her of anything.

“What do you say, Charlotte?” His gaze did not waver from hers.

Charlotte’s jaw dropped. Only one person alive called her Charlotte, and her brother called her Lotty most of the time. It was astonishing to hear her name spoken with such little respect—and astonishing to feel exhilaration rush through her body.

A shaky smile crept over her face. “We must not keep Miss Darby waiting.”

John grinned. “Oh, thank you, Lady Charlotte. I am entirely in your debt, as you well know.”

She relaxed as she saw his genuine pleasure. “I do. Do not ask me to stick my neck out for you again, do you hear?”

The younger brother grinned, and he rushed over to the first curricle, leaving Charlotte alone with William.

The duke offered his hand. “Let me assist you into the curricle, my lady.”

Her hesitation was brief. She did not want to place her hand in his. What if she felt the same heat, the same magnetism, which she could not explain?

Without waiting for a response, he took her hand and led her to the curricle. Within seconds, Charlotte found herself seated beside him, her hip pressed against his leg. Her heart pounded, and the pelisse she had chosen was suddenly too hot. How could she endure an entire curricle ride with him?

The first curricle moved off, and the duke clicked his tongue, encouraging their horses to follow. Charlotte had expected him to speak and had a few forceful putdowns ready. But he said nothing.

Eventually, the silence became oppressive. As they passed people on the pavement, they looked with surprise to see her in the company of a gentleman, which did nothing for her own peace of mind. This was intolerable; he had to say something!

“Ah, and there is Miss Darby.”

Charlotte looked over where the duke was pointing. Miss Darby, wearing a turban of the height of fashion, was waiting, unbridled excitement splashed across her features.

Charlotte smiled. There was truly no guile in Miss Darby, no need to guess her affections, and if John could be relied upon to speak when necessary, she had the feeling her chaperoning duties would soon be over.

It took Miss Darby no time to be helped into the curricle beside John, and they set off into the bustle of Bath at a gentle pace.

John must have said something, for Miss Darby threw back her head and laughed.

Charlotte swallowed. “I must say, Your Grace, I…”

“William.” He gave her a wry smile. “I think a duke and the daughter of a duke can have a more relaxed approach to names. After all, I call you Charlotte.”

“You should call me Lady Charlotte,” she corrected, her hands clasped in her lap and face resolutely facing forward, watching the other curricle.

“Not always.”

“You do know the rules of propriety dictate I should address you with nothing butYour Gracewhen I am with you, and theDuke of Merciawhen I am not?”

“And? Do you think I have lived by the rules all my life? You know my history, Charlotte. I have had this millstone of a title a few years. Why not call me what my mother chose for me? Besides, I like the name William. Don’t you?”

It was overwhelmingly hot in the curricle, but Charlotte had no way of rearranging herself, so she was not pushed close against him. Besides, it was rather intoxicating, the thought of calling this man by his first name. As though he was not a duke. As though he had no power over her.

She swallowed. This went against everything she had been taught. Obligation forced her to speak. “Fine. William, I must apologize you are not with Miss Darby, or another young, pretty thing. I am sure that was who this curricle was intended for.”