Charlotte blinked at him, the sudden relief apparent as her features softened. She hesitated only a moment before inclining her head. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Your Grace.”
Leonard glared at him. “But I was telling Lady Charlotte about the time—”
“I’m afraid your tale must wait,” Henry said smoothly, meeting Leonard’s gaze without blinking. “You can continue it later,ifLady Charlotte wishes to hear it.” He didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Sir Roger’s mouth clamped shut. Henry offered Charlotte his arm, and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow just as the musicians struck up a leisurely waltz.
Henry placed a hand at her waist, the other supporting her gloved hand in his. They began to circle the floor, moving through the steps with practiced grace. At first, neither spoke, but Henry felt Charlotte relax by small degrees—her shoulders loosened, and her exhale seemed relieved.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, glancing up at him. “I… truly appreciate your intervention. Sir Roger is rather persistent.”
“I could see that,” he replied, guiding her deftly around another couple. “I apologize if I intruded, but you seemed uncomfortable.”
Her lips curved into a faint self-conscious smile. “Uncomfortable is one word for it. It’s not that he’s been unkind, but… I don’t quite share his enthusiasm for hunting stories. Or brandy.”
“He does seem very fond of describing his exploits in gruesome detail,” Henry offered.
She gave a delicate shudder. “Indeed. I’m only grateful you saved me from hearing any more of it.”
They moved in silence for a moment, stepping together in time with the music. Henry found himself unusually aware of how the candlelight played over Charlotte’s delicate features. Her soft perfume conjured something sweet and floral, and he felt a stab of nostalgia for the long summer days of their childhood.
As they turned again, her eyes lifted, briefly catching his. A stray curl brushed her cheek, and he fought a sudden urge to brush it aside. She really did look lovely tonight, in a natural, understated way.
He swallowed down the rush of guilt at his own thoughts. This was little Charlotte Fitzgerald, the gangly girl who used to tag along after him and William. And yet here she was, a grown woman with a quiet grace all her own.
“Thank you again,” Charlotte repeated, drawing him out of his thoughts. “You’ve no idea how relieved I was to be rescued from that oaf.”
He offered a half smile. “It was my pleasure. Truly.”
Henry found himself half regretting that the waltz wasn’t longer, as her guarded expression began to ease, and they moved in an easy synchronicity. But the dance ended all too soon. Heled her back toward William, who was standing near a column with his arms folded.
“Your dancing has improved, sister,” William said.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Do you remember when Mother had us both practicing our dance steps together in the drawing room? You always trod on my toes. Thankfully His Grace is more careful.”
Henry let out a surprised bark of laughter. For a moment she reminded him of the old Charlotte, before they’d all grown up and society’s rules had forced their interactions to follow a particular set of guidelines.
“Your Grace.”
He turned to see Lady Pembroke, although neither of her daughters were with her.
Charlotte greeted her politely, shot Henry and William a brief look, and moved off toward the refreshment table.
Lady Pembroke wasted no time. “Your Grace, I must thank you for the invitation. We would be delighted to accept.”
Henry stared at her. Had all the women in the room gone mad tonight? “Invitation?”
“To your grand house party.”
Henry blinked. “A house party? I haven’t invited a single person to any sort of house party. I think you might’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
Lady Pembroke looked utterly baffled. “Of course you didn’t extend the invitation personally, or there would be no need for me to take the time to thank you now. I’d have done it then. Your mother invited us on your behalf, and we assure you, we will be there.”
With that, Lady Pembroke offered a small dip of her head and swept away to follow Charlotte’s path toward the lemonade. Henry stood frozen for an instant, blood pounding. What on earth was his mother up to now?
He turned to William, who raised both eyebrows.
“That’s news to me,” William said. “Did you mention anything about hosting a party?”
