“I prefer clodpate,” Belle said with a raised brow.
South stared for a long moment. He swallowed before bowing and repeating, “I beg your pardon.”
“Oh, no. That is not begging. You’ll need to do better.”
He cast a wary glance at her before telling William, “Thank you for waking me. I am going to get a hack home.”
“I am leaving now, too. We shall share a hack and I can start teaching you how to beg.” Belle rose, dropping her serviette by her plate.
South acquiesced, amusing Charlotte and William to no end.
* * * *
Fall arrived, the days growing shorter and colder.
Charlotte had fallen as well, deeper and deeper in love with William. She’d fought it. Although she had not raised the issue of heirs again, it nagged at her always. However, she could not fathom letting William go.
He was beginning to press for public outings again, as well.
She had allowed him to escort her to a few salons, introducing him to friends he had not yet met, the men closer to Charles’s age than hers or William’s. Given how frequently he spent the night with her, she’d also encouraged him to tell his mother, despite the risk to Charlotte’s friendship with the woman. If an emergency arose at home, they needed to be able to find him, as the acting head of household. Besides, it felt duplicitous to attend the ladies’ group and converse with Ruth with that secret between them.
They walked into the latest presentation, a discussion of new uses for rubber.
Ruth Stanton stood across the room speaking with the host.
Before Charlotte could react or even contemplate disengaging her hand from William’s arm, her gaze caught Ruth’s.
The older woman smiled, drifted to William beside her, and then down to their linked arms. Her head tilted, brows drawing together.
Charlotte leaned in to William. “Does your mother know yet?”
“I have not yet had a chance to discuss it with her. Why?”
“Because she is here.” Charlotte nodded in Ruth’s direction. “And I do not think she liked seeing us walk in together.”
She could imagine Ruth’s reaction. After Charlotte’s decade of marriage without producing an heir, the countess would have legitimate concerns about their courtship. And that was without the age difference.
Her stomach churned and she worried she might lose her supper. The room swam around her, and she swayed, breaking out in a cold sweat.
She recalled Charles’s suit, the first dance, the betrothal, all the social events. Never had there been this intense fear of loss should something go awry. She had loved him, certainly. But it had been a young girl’s love. Not like this all-encompassing need for William, this innate knowledge that they were perfect together. This was a mature, well-rounded, learned love.
Her hand tightened on William’s sleeve as she reeled.
When Ruth started across the room to them, she shivered, fearing the coming confrontation.
I cannot lose him yet. Please, just a little more time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Charlotte gripped his arm like a vice, William glanced down.
She was white as a sheet.
“Mistress? Are you unwell?”
“You should have told her,” Charlotte managed through clenched teeth.
“And I will.” He shrugged.
