“Did you enjoy your reading?” he asked after casting about for something to say. For some reason, his stomach fluttered a little. He was once again acutely aware that Charlotte was no longer just a girl, but a young woman. She looked pretty in a light blue walking dress and with tendrils of her hair escaping from its bonnet, her cheeks flushed from the summer warmth.
“Erm, yes, thank you,” she said, not meeting his eyes. Was something bothering her?
“And the recital yesterday? I trust that went well? I’m sorry that I wasn’t there; I had… other matters to attend to.” He thought again of the threatening note, and his mood darkened. He was still none the wiser as to who could have discovered his secret, and the knowledge that one of his guests—or servants—was intent on capitalizing on this secret weighed heavily on him.
Charlotte chuckled, and just seeing the dimple in her cheek momentarily lifted his spirits. “It was… as these things usually are. I’m sure your mother enjoyed herself appraising the performers.”
Henry laughed, surprised by her subtle sarcasm. Really, Charlotte was quite witty behind that shy demeanor of hers. Before this season, he realized, they’d never truly conversedas adults without William present. It was a constant surprise how much he enjoyed her company of late. She was kind and intelligent, with a quiet humor that he found refreshing.
Perhaps this walk wouldn’t be so bad after all.
The sun shone down on them, and there was a fresh breeze in the air that stopped the day from becoming uncomfortably hot. The walk into town was picturesque along a row of small thatched cottages that mostly belonged to his estate and housed those who rented the land.
He was greeted with genuine smiles as he passed the men and women going about their day, reminding him that if nothing else, he was proving to be a responsible landowner. He kept his rents reasonable and ensured there was no deprivation under his authority.
Was it wrong that he was glad Charlotte was seeing this? As though he had something to prove to her. For some reason, he wanted her to think well of him. With her in step beside him, he could almost forget about the gaggle of ladies behind them.
However, his enjoyment was short-lived. About halfway to town, a trio of ladies managed to maneuver their way to his side, effectively displacing Charlotte and her friends. He vaguely recognized some of them, including a Miss Brighton and Miss Rosalind Smythe, whose mother was a great friend of his own. No doubt the duchess would think Miss Rosalind a suitable bride, whereas Henry found her shallow and rather irritating.
“May we have a turn at your side, Your Grace?” Miss Brighton asked, casting an annoyed glance back at Charlotte and Felicity while Miss Rosalind simpered up at him, dropping him an elegant, practiced curtsey.
“Of course. Forgive my impoliteness. I find I am somewhat stretched thin trying to entertain you all.” Henry kept his expression neutral, though irritation flickered through him.
Rosalind laughed as though he had told a particularly funny joke, and he felt a pang of guilt at being so irritated by her. It wasn’t the young ladies’ fault that he did not wish to wed them or that their own situation made it imperative that they marry soon and well, but some of them were so determined in their attention that he found it exhausting.
He did his best to remain polite, though their insistent attempts at conversation tested his patience.
The exact opposite to how he felt when he spent time with Charlotte Fitzgerald.
“Your Grace, do you find the season agreeable thus far?” Miss Rosalind asked, batting her lashes.
“I cannot say I have given it much thought,” he replied evenly, avoiding her too-bold gaze.
“But surely you have attended some fine affairs?” she pressed. “I do love a good ball, I must say.”
“Indeed, though I find I prefer quieter company.”
“Oh, but so do I,” Rosalind said quickly.
Henry sighed inwardly at her about-face on her own preferences. They were all trying so hard to be what they thought he might want. Something Charlotte never seemed to do. She was always so… Charlotte. He glanced back at her and caught her watching them, only to blush and tear her eyes away. A tingle went through him, followed by a flush of warmth.
“Are you well, Your Grace?” Rosalind said pointedly, dragging his attention back to her. “You seem distracted.”
“Just a little tired,” he murmured, which wasn’t exactly a lie.
When they arrived in town, their first stop was the haberdashery. Relief washed over Henry when most of the ladies, including Rosalind, eagerly disappeared inside, their attention fixed on bolts of fabric and ribbons. Charlotte, however, remained outside, lingering with him.
“You do not wish to go in?” he asked, trying to hide that he was quite happy with her company.
She smiled faintly. “I do not require anything today. Besides, I much prefer the fresh air to shopping. I know the other ladies find that strange. Even Miranda likes to shop, though she generally prefers the bookshops.”
“It’s not strange to me. Shopping for things one needs, I understand, but most young ladies seem to have an amazing propensity to linger for hours over a piece of ribbon or a bonnet.”
“You don’t like bonnets?” Charlotte asked, patting her own.
Henry was about to hastily reassure her that hers was very pretty when he saw the twinkle in her eye and laughed out loud. “I do believe you’re teasing me, Lady Charlotte.”
“You make it too easy, Your Grace.”
