She stiffened at once. “Oh no,” she breathed, recognizing the crest. “Sir Roger.”
Henry glanced at her. “You weren’t expecting him?”
Panic pulsed through her, making her hands tremble. “No, although I wouldn’t be surprised if Mother is. He’s been… rather attentive, and I’m not in the mood to be cornered again.”
Henry rapped on the carriage wall, telling the driver, “Keep going. Don’t stop.”
The coachman turned onto the next street, leaving the unwelcome sight of Sir Roger’s carriage behind. Charlotte exhaled slowly, the adrenaline still coursing through her.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I know it’s silly, fleeing my own house, but I can’t bear to deal with him right now.”
Henry watched her with empathy. “Is he that troublesome?”
She laced her fingers in her lap. “He’s certainly persistent. My mother and William don’t seem to mind him. In fact, I suspect they see him as a half-decent prospect, since I’m not exactly overrun with suitors.”
A trace of frustration sparked in Henry’s eyes. “It’s unfair that you feel forced to avoid your own front door. If he appears at the house party, we can definitely maneuver so you’re not stuck with him.”
She smiled weakly. “I appreciate that. I just hope my family doesn’t actively push me toward him in your home. That would be mortifying.”
He frowned. “They won’t have the chance—not if I can help it. You’ve made it clear you’re uncomfortable around him. That’s enough for me.”
Her face warmed at his protective tone even if it was purely friendly. “Thank you. I’m sorry you have to deal with all these entanglements at your own party.”
Henry shrugged ruefully. “Better to face them with allies. I’ll see to it that Leonard doesn’t pester you.”
The tension eased from her, and she relaxed into her seat. They rolled on for a few blocks, chatting idly about nothing inparticular until Charlotte had regained enough of a sense of calm to return home.
At length, she said, “I think he’s likely gone now. We can head back.”
Henry rapped on the carriage again, instructing the driver to circle around. Soon, they pulled up to her house. She peered out to see that Sir Roger’s carriage was nowhere to be seen, thank goodness. Henry descended first, then offered his hand to help her down.
She stood on the pavement, her maid a step behind, and turned to Henry. “I’m truly grateful, Your Grace. That was a pleasant reprieve… from everything.”
He inclined his head in a gesture of farewell. “I needed it as much as you did. If you require anything, especially regarding Leonard, send word, and at the house party, we’ll make sure everything’s in place.”
She curtsied, cheeks warming. “I will, and I look forward to it. Please take care until then.”
He offered a polite bow, then climbed back into his carriage. Charlotte watched it roll away, her heart conflicted but fluttering. He’d sought her out for support, a sign of trust. She only wished that trust might lead him to see her in a new light.
Preferably before she ended up wed to someone like Sir Roger.
CHAPTER 11
London
July 1813
Charlotte sat in the carriage,twisting her gloves nervously in her lap. Lord Bryant’s ball was supposed to be just another routine social evening. Not that she ever enjoyed them, but there would have been no reason for this one to be more anxiety inducing than any other.
Until the flowers arrived. Now here she was, staring at the florist’s note in her hand, dread building in her chest.
She turned to her mother. “Must I really reserve the first dance for Sir Roger? He sent these flowers and….” Her words trailed off as she struggled to find a polite way to say she loathed the idea.
Her mother peered at her sharply. “Charlotte, the man made a kind gesture. You shouldn’t snub him. One dance is all you need to grant. After that, you may do as you please.”
Charlotte’s stomach churned.One dance.It felt like an hour’s confinement. But there was no appealing to her mother’s senseof propriety. She nodded, hoping it wouldn’t be as dreadful as she feared.
As they arrived, footmen guided them into the glittering ballroom. Music drifted through the crowd, and chandeliers sparkled overhead. Charlotte kept close to her mother during the obligatory greetings, smiling at Lord Bryant and his wife, who stood near the entrance. The polite exchange of pleasantries hummed in her ears. She couldn’t shake the anxiety clawing at her.
