He was unwilling to share too much of his conversation with Charlotte. He wasn’t looking to wed, but nor was she a possible casual conquest.
Deciding to keep it vague, he threw out, “I have a question. If you want to woo a lady—”
The other two hooted. South murmured, “About time.”
He gave them a withering look and continued, “but cannot risk compromising her, how do you go about it?”
Nate leaned back. “Are we talking Ton or no?”
William’s lips twisted. “Yes. And you know Mama requires that I finish university.”
“I doubt I can help then, old man.”
William leaned forward, intent. “I seem to recall you telling me once upon a time that a woman is a woman is a woman. Even if she was not Ton, if you could not risk discovery, how would you approach it?”
South interjected, “I’m confused. If you are trying to avoid wedded bliss until after Oxford, aren’t you simply looking for a tup?”
Nate pointed at him and nodded. “Fair question.”
“First, this is a theoretical question.” The other two snickered, but he ignored them and continued, “And can’t a man woo without it leading to marriage banns in short order? Do you not want to ensure you are compatible before you get leg-shackled for the rest of your life?”
South responded. “You and your puritanical views of marriage. Most of the Ton ignores the ‘for life’ bit, chap.”
“You get my meaning.” William waved a dismissive hand.
“The romance novels often have the man risking life and limb to get to the girl. Like climbing trellises or trees to her bedroom window.” Nate threw in.
South skewed a side glance at him. “And you know this why?”
“Research.” Nate grinned.
All three broke into laughter and clinked their beer glasses in a toast.
Did Charlotte have a handy tree or trellis by her chamber? He’d won time with her through boldness once, why not again?
* * * *
The following afternoon, after a few discreet inquiries, William stared at a slip of paper noting Charlotte’s address.
After her gentle setdown, he daren’t be too forward. Instead, he scribbled a note and sent a calling card requesting permission to call upon her. With a grin, he addressed it to “Mistress P” and signed it “Your humble servant, William Stanton.”
The footman returned promptly with a response which read, “I hoped you’d learned to play with children your own age.”
Having anticipated such an answer, he had a reply waiting. His beyond-forward behavior could hopefully be attributed to the brashness of youth or not knowing all of society’s rules. “No, but your parting wish came true. You gave me very sweet dreams. I politely requested permission and I did not see a “no” in your reply, thus I look forward to seeing you in an hour.”
Directing the servant to inform Charlotte that he was out on the Town and not available for a response, he strolled to his club to count the interminable seconds until the appropriate time to call.
Her townhome was also within walking distance of the club, which aided an inconspicuous arrival. He slowed his steps as he ascended her front stairs. Despite his bravado in writing, he was uncertain of his welcome, and cognizant of the ubiquitous rumor mill centered in Mayfair. While his reputation could withstand a black mark, women were judged more harshly. However, nothing would dissuade him from pursuing this never-before-felt interest sparked by her. Her serenity, her standoffishness, and her independence were Sirens to his Odysseus.
As he neared the door, it opened. A butler gestured him in, taking his hat, coat, and gloves before showing him into the parlor.
“Thank you, Austin. Please ask the kitchen to bring tea,” Charlotte stood across the room several feet from a front-facing window, as though she might be trying to hide the fact that she’d watched his arrival. Her rose gown matched the accents in the primarily-blue room. “And I am not at home to other callers.”
William caught Austin’s arm give a slight jerk, but he inclined his head and his voice was as calm as a pond on a windless day. “Of course, milady.”
She turned to him. “Lord—”
“Ah. We’d established that it’s William, please.” He grinned at her, too happy to worry about possible chastisements. He added cheekily, “’Tis lovely to see you, Mistress P.”
