For a moment, their eyes met and something unspoken passed between them—something that Henry did not dare to name. Charlotte was the first to break their joined gaze, looking over the road as though the shops there were of sudden interest.
“It is a very pretty place,” she said.
He could not help but agree.
Together, they stood watching the busy street, and in spite of their shared moment a minute or so before, he felt comfortable in her presence. She made a good companion. She was so incredibly easy to be around.
He found himself opening his mouth to tell her so, but just then, a figure emerged from one of the haberdashery shops across the road. He was a portly man, his face shadowed by his hat, Henry barely paid him any mind at first, but beside him, Charlotte suddenly stiffened, and he heard her quick intake of breath.
He turned to look at her and was startled to see a flicker of shock and fear cross her face. Following her gaze, he found itwas fixed upon the man, who had crossed the road and was now standing just ahead of them.
Sir Roger.
Henry had never thought much of the man, but after his behavior at the ball, he positively detested him. Henry stepped slightly closer to Charlotte, his posture subtly shifting into one of protectiveness. He could hardly believe the man’s audacity when he stepped toward them and bowed as though nothing at all had happened.
He should be hanging his head in disgrace.
Henry’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He glared at the man, but Sir Roger’s eyes never left Charlotte as he offered the customary pleasantries to them both, giving Henry a bow that Henry pointedly did not return.
Charlotte stammered a reply, stepping closer to Henry. The effect that this man clearly had on her made Henry want to deliver Sir Roger a swift punch to the jaw.
“Sir Roger. I do not believe I have seen you in this part of town before,” Henry said coolly, his tone giving away none of his mounting anger.
Sir Roger smiled, though it did not reach his eyes, which were shrewd and calculating. He was up to something. It was no accident that he’d happened upon them.
“I have never had cause to visit before today, Your Grace.”
Henry studied him. “And what enticed you to visit today?”
Sir Roger hesitated just long enough for the answer to seem insincere. “A simple errand.”
His eyes remained fixed on Charlotte.
Henry’s jaw tightened. There was an unsettling air about the man, and he did not like the way Charlotte had clenched her hands together or the way she was wringing her fingers, obviously nervous.
“I must apologize for the, ah, misunderstanding, last time we met.” Leonard gave Charlotte a deep bow. “The gin quite got to me. I assure you I meant no harm, my lady.”
“Very well. Let us forget the matter,” Charlotte said, but her tone was shaky.
“Provided it does not happen again,” Henry snapped.
Sir Roger bowed again, the very picture of contrition. “Of course, Your Grace. I can assure you, I am most mortified by my actions.”
Henry didn’t reply. He saw no sincerity in the man and quite frankly did not care whether he was sorry or not. He didn’t want this man anywhere near Charlotte, and neither would William when he told him of this supposedly chance meeting.
“Might I accompany you?” Sir Roger asked, his tone overly smooth. “A walk in pleasant company is always a delight. I would welcome the chance to redeem myself in your eyes, Lady Charlotte.”
Charlotte looked quickly at Henry for support, and Henry did not hesitate. “We are only stopping at the bakery before returning home. There is little point in joining us.”
And you will never be redeemed inmyeyes.
A flicker of anger crossed Sir Roger’s face before his expression smoothed again. “I have never seen Your Grace’s country estate,” he remarked casually, clearly angling for an invitation. “I hear your residence, Arundel Park, is quite something.”
Henry did not extend one. Surely the man had not expected to be invited to the house party after what he’d done to Charlotte?
Instead, he turned to Charlotte, completely ignoring Leonard. “Shall we go inside the bakery while we wait for the others? There is a grand selection here, and I’m sure my mother would love a currant loaf.”
He offered his arm, and she took it, practically clinging to him. A wave of anger roiled through him as he understood how much the sight of Leonard had upset her.
