Charlotte rounded the doorway, green skirts settling around her as she stopped just inside. Her hair was up—hmm, perhaps she’d let him brush it out and massage her scalp—and she was lovely from head to toe.
And unhappy, as her lips were pressed flat.
“Mistress, thank you for seeing me.” He bowed over her hand, bussing it with a light kiss, wondering if a touch without permission would spark her to the actions he needed.
“William. ’Tis a rather odd time to visit, is it not?”
He straightened. “I wanted to ascertain that you are feeling better. You appear well. No, you appear lovely, as always.”
She nodded once, the skin around her eyes loosening a touch.
He led her over to her preferred blue armchair. Once she was seated, he declined the settee at a right angle to her, or the matching armchair across the rug and low table. Instead, he perched on the padded footstool directly in front of her chair, requiring him to look up at her.
“What excuse did you tell your friends about dallying with the spinster? Or was I more of a light-skirt in their minds?” Her tone was bitter.
Blazes. She was still upset. He wanted to beat both of the men, in addition to his father.
“I do not need an excuse. Nor will I tolerate you being spoken of like that, which is what I told them in no uncertain terms.” He took her hand from her lap, kissing it. “Mistress, you cannot hold me responsible for others’ words. Please.”
“I do not. But you have heard it before, and we both know talk like that will continue as long as we are seen together. And they aren’t wrong. You could do better.” She combed her hand through his hair.
“Stop.” He firmed his voice, straightening on his seat, as low as it may be. “I shan’t hear that from anyone, including you. I disagree.”
“Oh, William. How noble and caring you are. I worry how much both of us will be hurt between now and next Season if we continue.” She stopped caressing his hair, dropping her hand to her lap.
Alarmed, he swallowed hard, pained at her words. She remained focused on their end date, refusing to see that he wanted to be hers for the rest of his days. He needed her, for heaven’s sake.
Tremors of anxiety ran through him. The urgency of his need for that evening, that hour, pressed against his skin as much as forever did. He could not bear it if she turned him away. He might explode, or go find South and let his friend lead him into all sorts of trouble, going the way of his father. It was all too much.
He ran his hands through his hair before flinging them wide. “I’m not leaving!”
“You must, eventually.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Her voice firmed now, becoming more Mistress than Charlotte. “You must marry. You must have heirs. ’Tis your responsibility. You’re the only son, there is no other option.”
“I am tired of my responsibilities, especially today. I do not want to—Icannot—think about them. Please, Mistress, I love you. I need you.” He stretched his hand toward hers again. It trembled.
“William? Are you quite all right? What happened today?” She was staring at his hand, reaching to meet it with both of hers.
“I don’t want to talk about today. Suffice it to say it was terrible. To answer your other question, no, Mistress, I am not in a good frame of mind. You denied me the opportunity to comfort you last night, you continue to debate the wisdom of this. Yet all I can think of is you. I can’t imagine courting someone else, much less marrying them. Please, I beg of you. I wish to be yours.”
He slid to the floor and knelt, placing his head in her lap over their clasped hands. His shoulders shook with the vibrations of his fear, and he fought tears. He could not leave her.
She mustn’t make him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Strangely, his trembling calmed Charlotte. Seeing how the stress of managing his world was eating at him made her forget her arguments.
He bore so much responsibility at such a young age. Other young men his age were on their Grand Tours of Europe, enjoying all the freedoms of being newly independent adults. He was shadow-managing an earldom for a drunkard of a father, trying to manage his sister and a wayward friend, and learning it all along the way. No wonder he did not want to think of marriage or children. He perceived them as more responsibilities to drag at him.
Well, she refused to be another one. This, she could solve for him, and would continue to do so until the start of the next Season, no matter how much it hurt her. She’d survived losing one love, she’d find a way through the next loss. In the meantime, she could be his port in the storm.
She pulled one hand out from the tangled clasp beneath his head, and stroked his hair with it, raking her nails gently along his scalp.
He shuddered.
