“If ’tis real, that won’t matter.” Out of the three of them, Folly was the philosopher. That fact always amazed William, but it also helped ground him in how important his worries were in the grand scheme of things. After all, Folly had already conquered challenges that William was still learning, like feeding, clothing and housing himself.
Changing the subject, he asked, “What were you and Emily discussing over there?”
Folly gave him a lopsided smile. “I was convincing her that she, too, could wait another year to celebrate my aging.”
“Without a tantrum? Well done.” He turned to South, but found his friend’s back retreating toward the whisky decanter again. William frowned, opening his mouth to say something when his mother swept into the room to greet his friends and announce dinner. It promised to be a long night of corralling South again, after long days of cleaning up his father’s messes.
Chapter Sixteen
Charlotte dawdled in bed, something she almost never did, enjoying William’s spiced rum scent on her sheets underlying the woody, slightly bitter aroma of her tea. Intimacy with William the past weeks had been sensational, beyond her expectations. A small part of her wondered if some part of the splendor might be due to the novelty, learning each other, or her abstinence in the prior months. But her heart told her it was William himself and the way they fit together in all aspects of life.
Not all.This had to end in a matter of days, she reminded herself. She could pine all she wanted, but she needed to release him to wed someone appropriate, who could bear children.
If the issue had only been the difference in their ages, she might be convinced to deal with the gossip. But the larger issue was her inability to provide heirs for the earldom.
Of course, there was always the risk some debutante that William picked—her heart twisted in pain—was also barren, but the odds against Charlotte were higher after a decade of trying. And any shrewd investor would not recommend against those odds, particularly when the future of an earldom was at stake.
Hearing Belle’s voice downstairs, she scrambled into a day gown and pulled her hair back from her face with combs at her temples.
“Ah, there you are. Did I disturb anything?” Belle stood in the dining room doorway, her gaze sliding past Charlotte to the stairs.
“No.”
“Late night with the young stud then? How much longer do you get him for?”
“Only a few days,” Charlotte muttered. She already missed him and they’d only parted six hours ago.
“We shall find something—or someone—to distract you when he leaves.” Belle wiggled her brows.
Much to her embarrassment, her eyes welled with tears.
“Oh no,” Belle exclaimed. She hugged Charlotte and led her to a chair, pouring tea before sitting next to her. “We can’t have this. Your heart got ‘short-term’ confused with ‘happily-ever-after,’ didn’t it?”
Charlotte nodded, sniffling.
The courtesan considered. Tilting her head, she said, “I still think that is doable—”
“No. I am too high a risk. He needs heirs.”
“We don’t know—”
“No, we don’t. However, we know it’s less likely than the average young miss who has just come out and is a decade younger, besides.” When Belle took a breath to retort, Charlotte added. “Please, Belle. Not now, I can’t bear it. Perhaps I’ll have a better perspective after he’s gone. In the meantime, I wanted to talk to you about something more tangible.”
“What is it?”
“You mentioned that William’s family is struggling financially. I wonder if I could—or should—help them in some way.”
“You mean a loan?”
Charlotte shrugged.
“A gift?” Belle’s voice rose on the word. “How do you think that would make him feel? I am quite sure he’s not ready to call off the earldom and enter my line of work.”
Charlotte gasped. “It wouldn’t be like that.”
“It would likely feel as though it were, don’t you see?”
“Ugh. I hadn’t thought of that. Regardless, gift, loan, is there a way to help them without hurting his pride?”
