Chapter 16
Henry had long since learned that when his mother sent for him and announced she had made plans, it was rarely for anything he wished to do.
So when she summoned him to the morning room to inform him he was taking some guests on a walk into town, with a serene smile and an airy comment about his presence being required, he didn’t bother attempting to argue as he had about the lawn bowls.
He arrived at the appointed place only to find himself the object of much anticipation.
A small gathering of young ladies, dressed in their walking attire, turned expectant eyes upon him.
Their bonnets bobbed as they murmured to one another, their hands tightening on their reticules.
None of the other gentlemen were present.
He fought the urge to sigh. Clearly, his mother had orchestrated this. He was not foolish enough to believe that his presence was truly necessary for this walk, yet neither was he in a position to decline. It would be unpardonably rude to retreat now.
He managed a polite smile and adjusted his gloves. “Shall we?”
The group set off along the gravel road leading into town, the chatter of the ladies filling the morning air.
He looked around for Charlotte and her friends.
He caught Miss Flynn’s eye and bowed. Almost immediately, he found himself surrounded by Charlotte and her friends and breathed a sigh of relief.
He did not miss the disapproving glances some of the other women cast in their direction, but he paid them no mind. He was perfectly content with his current company and had no inclination to change it, his mother be damned. He had more on his mind today than this pretense of seeking a betrothal.
Charlotte fell into step beside him, with Felicity next to her and the other ladies behind.
“Did you enjoy your reading?” he asked after casting about for something to say.
For some reason, his stomach fluttered a little.
He was once again acutely aware that Charlotte was no longer just a girl, but a young woman.
She looked pretty in a light blue walking dress and with tendrils of her hair escaping from its bonnet, her cheeks flushed from the summer warmth.
“Erm, yes, thank you,” she said, not meeting his eyes. Was something bothering her?
“And the recital yesterday? I trust that went well? I’m sorry that I wasn’t there; I had…
other matters to attend to.” He thought again of the threatening note, and his mood darkened.
He was still none the wiser as to who could have discovered his secret, and the knowledge that one of his guests—or servants—was intent on capitalizing on this secret weighed heavily on him.
Charlotte chuckled, and just seeing the dimple in her cheek momentarily lifted his spirits. “It was… as these things usually are. I’m sure your mother enjoyed herself appraising the performers.”
Henry laughed, surprised by her subtle sarcasm.
Really, Charlotte was quite witty behind that shy demeanor of hers.
Before this season, he realized, they’d never truly conversed as adults without William present.
It was a constant surprise how much he enjoyed her company of late.
She was kind and intelligent, with a quiet humor that he found refreshing.
Perhaps this walk wouldn’t be so bad after all.
The sun shone down on them, and there was a fresh breeze in the air that stopped the day from becoming uncomfortably hot. The walk into town was picturesque along a row of small thatched cottages that mostly belonged to his estate and housed those who rented the land.
He was greeted with genuine smiles as he passed the men and women going about their day, reminding him that if nothing else, he was proving to be a responsible landowner. He kept his rents reasonable and ensured there was no deprivation under his authority.
Was it wrong that he was glad Charlotte was seeing this? As though he had something to prove to her. For some reason, he wanted her to think well of him. With her in step beside him, he could almost forget about the gaggle of ladies behind them.
However, his enjoyment was short-lived. About halfway to town, a trio of ladies managed to maneuver their way to his side, effectively displacing Charlotte and her friends.
He vaguely recognized some of them, including a Miss Brighton and Miss Rosalind Smythe, whose mother was a great friend of his own.
No doubt the duchess would think Miss Rosalind a suitable bride, whereas Henry found her shallow and rather irritating.
“May we have a turn at your side, Your Grace?” Miss Brighton asked, casting an annoyed glance back at Charlotte and Felicity while Miss Rosalind simpered up at him, dropping him an elegant, practiced curtsey.
“Of course. Forgive my impoliteness. I find I am somewhat stretched thin trying to entertain you all.” Henry kept his expression neutral, though irritation flickered through him.
Rosalind laughed as though he had told a particularly funny joke, and he felt a pang of guilt at being so irritated by her.
It wasn’t the young ladies’ fault that he did not wish to wed them or that their own situation made it imperative that they marry soon and well, but some of them were so determined in their attention that he found it exhausting.
He did his best to remain polite, though their insistent attempts at conversation tested his patience.
The exact opposite to how he felt when he spent time with Charlotte Fitzgerald.
“Your Grace, do you find the season agreeable thus far?” Miss Rosalind asked, batting her lashes.
“I cannot say I have given it much thought,” he replied evenly, avoiding her too-bold gaze.
“But surely you have attended some fine affairs?” she pressed. “I do love a good ball, I must say.”
“Indeed, though I find I prefer quieter company.”
“Oh, but so do I,” Rosalind said quickly.
Henry sighed inwardly at her about-face on her own preferences.
They were all trying so hard to be what they thought he might want.
Something Charlotte never seemed to do. She was always so…
Charlotte. He glanced back at her and caught her watching them, only to blush and tear her eyes away.
A tingle went through him, followed by a flush of warmth.
“Are you well, Your Grace?” Rosalind said pointedly, dragging his attention back to her. “You seem distracted.”
“Just a little tired,” he murmured, which wasn’t exactly a lie.
When they arrived in town, their first stop was the haberdashery. Relief washed over Henry when most of the ladies, including Rosalind, eagerly disappeared inside, their attention fixed on bolts of fabric and ribbons. Charlotte, however, remained outside, lingering with him.
“You do not wish to go in?” he asked, trying to hide that he was quite happy with her company.
She smiled faintly. “I do not require anything today. Besides, I much prefer the fresh air to shopping. I know the other ladies find that strange. Even Miranda likes to shop, though she generally prefers the bookshops.”
“It’s not strange to me. Shopping for things one needs, I understand, but most young ladies seem to have an amazing propensity to linger for hours over a piece of ribbon or a bonnet.”
“You don’t like bonnets?” Charlotte asked, patting her own.
Henry was about to hastily reassure her that hers was very pretty when he saw the twinkle in her eye and laughed out loud. “I do believe you’re teasing me, Lady Charlotte.”
“You make it too easy, Your Grace.”
For a moment, their eyes met and something unspoken passed between them—something that Henry did not dare to name. Charlotte was the first to break their joined gaze, looking over the road as though the shops there were of sudden interest.
“It is a very pretty place,” she said.
He could not help but agree.
Together, they stood watching the busy street, and in spite of their shared moment a minute or so before, he felt comfortable in her presence. She made a good companion. She was so incredibly easy to be around.
He found himself opening his mouth to tell her so, but just then, a figure emerged from one of the haberdashery shops across the road.
He was a portly man, his face shadowed by his hat, Henry barely paid him any mind at first, but beside him, Charlotte suddenly stiffened, and he heard her quick intake of breath.
He turned to look at her and was startled to see a flicker of shock and fear cross her face. Following her gaze, he found it was fixed upon the man, who had crossed the road and was now standing just ahead of them.
Sir Roger.
Henry had never thought much of the man, but after his behavior at the ball, he positively detested him.
Henry stepped slightly closer to Charlotte, his posture subtly shifting into one of protectiveness.
He could hardly believe the man’s audacity when he stepped toward them and bowed as though nothing at all had happened.
He should be hanging his head in disgrace.
Henry’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He glared at the man, but Sir Roger’s eyes never left Charlotte as he offered the customary pleasantries to them both, giving Henry a bow that Henry pointedly did not return.
Charlotte stammered a reply, stepping closer to Henry. The effect that this man clearly had on her made Henry want to deliver Sir Roger a swift punch to the jaw.
“Sir Roger. I do not believe I have seen you in this part of town before,” Henry said coolly, his tone giving away none of his mounting anger.
Sir Roger smiled, though it did not reach his eyes, which were shrewd and calculating. He was up to something. It was no accident that he’d happened upon them.
“I have never had cause to visit before today, Your Grace.”
Henry studied him. “And what enticed you to visit today?”
Sir Roger hesitated just long enough for the answer to seem insincere. “A simple errand.”
His eyes remained fixed on Charlotte.
Henry’s jaw tightened. There was an unsettling air about the man, and he did not like the way Charlotte had clenched her hands together or the way she was wringing her fingers, obviously nervous.
“I must apologize for the, ah, misunderstanding, last time we met.” Leonard gave Charlotte a deep bow. “The gin quite got to me. I assure you I meant no harm, my lady.”
“Very well. Let us forget the matter,” Charlotte said, but her tone was shaky.
“Provided it does not happen again,” Henry snapped.
Sir Roger bowed again, the very picture of contrition. “Of course, Your Grace. I can assure you, I am most mortified by my actions.”
Henry didn’t reply. He saw no sincerity in the man and quite frankly did not care whether he was sorry or not. He didn’t want this man anywhere near Charlotte, and neither would William when he told him of this supposedly chance meeting.
“Might I accompany you?” Sir Roger asked, his tone overly smooth. “A walk in pleasant company is always a delight. I would welcome the chance to redeem myself in your eyes, Lady Charlotte.”
Charlotte looked quickly at Henry for support, and Henry did not hesitate. “We are only stopping at the bakery before returning home. There is little point in joining us.”
And you will never be redeemed in my eyes.
A flicker of anger crossed Sir Roger’s face before his expression smoothed again. “I have never seen Your Grace’s country estate,” he remarked casually, clearly angling for an invitation. “I hear your residence, Arundel Park, is quite something.”
Henry did not extend one. Surely the man had not expected to be invited to the house party after what he’d done to Charlotte?
Instead, he turned to Charlotte, completely ignoring Leonard. “Shall we go inside the bakery while we wait for the others? There is a grand selection here, and I’m sure my mother would love a currant loaf.”
He offered his arm, and she took it, practically clinging to him. A wave of anger roiled through him as he understood how much the sight of Leonard had upset her.
As they entered the bakery, Henry noted that Sir Roger did not follow but loitered nearby, his eyes never straying far from Charlotte. It was enough to set Henry’s nerves on edge, and he glared at the man through the glass until Leonard had finally made his way down the road and out of sight.
They lingered in the shop for a while, Charlotte selecting a few sweet rolls while Henry purchased a loaf of fresh currant bread. They did not speak of Leonard, but he could not help but notice the tension in the way Charlotte moved. The encounter had badly shaken her.
The ladies finally completed their purchases, and they departed the shops, making their way back up the road.
Henry was relieved to see no sign of Sir Roger.
He hung back from the other ladies, waiting until they were a good distance away before glancing at Charlotte, who remained by his side, her eyes downcast.
“Are you all right, Charlotte?” he asked.
She hesitated. “I… I am not certain. It was quite a shock to see Sir Roger here.”
Henry frowned. “What possible reason could he have to be in town? I have never heard of him having acquaintances in this area before.”
Charlotte’s lips pressed together. “I do not know.”
Neither did Henry. But as he walked beside her, a cold unease settled in his chest. He had a dreadful suspicion that Charlotte was the very reason Sir Roger was here. Which meant he was planning something. Henry was afraid to wonder what.