Charlotte’s cheeks burned. “I did not intend any impropriety, only to help a friend in distress. It’s Henry, after all—”
He cut her off with a shake of his head. “Friend or not, Henry is still unmarried. You must exercise restraint. It is your duty to be proper.”
Charlotte scowled, trying not to show the prickle of hurt she felt at the unexpected tone he was taking with her. “I understand.”
Despite her outward calm, inside she seethed. Not at William, but the rules and restraints she constantly found herself under. It wasn’t fair that she was restricted in so many ways.
Back in her own room, Charlotte lay on her bed for a long time, the events of the evening swirling in her mind. The image of Henry, so troubled and inebriated, mingled with the strange, tender awkwardness of being alone with him. Her thoughts also turned repeatedly to Sir Roger and how furious Henry had seemed at his appearance. Had Henry been more affected by that encounter than she realized? Did he truly care for her?
But then what was she to make of the garden incident, when he’d been alone with Harriet Fairchild? Or was Charlotte reading too much into that because her feelings for him were clouding her judgment?
As far as she could recall, he had not been particularly close to Harriet in the garden, nor had he worn that gentle smile she knew so well. Instinct told her that Henry had simply been caught unawares by a young lady vying for his attention, but the memory gnawed at her, a painful reminder that she may not have secured his affections as fully as he had hers.
CHAPTER 20
Henry satat the breakfast table, nursing a cup of strong tea and doing his best to ignore the dull, relentless pounding in his skull.
“Are you joining us for the hunt this morning, Arundel?” Lord Eastbourne asked, cutting into a thick slice of ham.
Henry tried to focus on the other man’s words, but the effects of last night’s brandy lingered like a particularly irate ghost, and even the clatter of dishes and idle chatter around him set his teeth on edge.
“It should be a fine day for it,” Eastbourne continued. “I believe our best riders are attending, so it should be quite the challenge.”
The scent of freshly baked bread and warm butter, usually a comfort, turned Henry’s stomach. He could hardly fathom how he’d feel if gunshots were to ring in his ears.
“Unfortunately, I must decline,” he said smoothly, setting his cup down. “I have other matters to attend to.”
Eastbourne shrugged. “As you will. Although I must say, old chap, considering this is your house party, you’ve been less than sociable so far.”
Henry grimaced. He felt too rotten to even do the expected thing and assure Eastbourne he meant no offense. Instead, he shrugged and grabbed his teacup again.
Luckily, Eastbourne took note of his expression and laughed instead. “Too much brandy, is it? You do have some fine liquor here, I must say.”
Henry forced himself to smile. He’d been drinking too much, a consequence of his current troubles. Last night, the clear brown liquor had felt like his only escape.
As Eastbourne turned back to his companions, William, seated beside Henry, arched a brow. “Since when do you pass on an opportunity to escape the houseful of ladies?”
Henry shot him a meaningful look, remembering their agreement to ensure Charlotte wasn’t left vulnerable to an unexpected encounter with Sir Roger.
“Since now,” he muttered back.
William arched an eyebrow but said nothing more.
Moments later, Charlotte and Felicity entered the breakfast room late. They must have been walking outside, as their faces were bright from the fresh morning air. Charlotte’s gown, a soft shade of blue that made her eyes seem almost luminous, was simple yet elegant. Her hair was pinned neatly, though a few loose tendrils had escaped to frame her face. She waved at her friends, who were seated across the room.
Even in his befuddled state, the sight of her lifted Henry’s spirits, and he sat up straight as she walked in their direction. She made her way toward him, her gaze lingering on him for a beat longer than necessary before she took the seat across from him and helped herself to tea. With William next to them, he tried not to let show just how pleasant it was to have her near.
“We’re going on a walk to the folly this morning,” she announced, stirring sugar into her tea. “I don’t suppose we’ll see either of you there?”
“I’m going hunting,” William announced. “But Henry here looks as though he could use a gentle walk. You were certainly the worse for wear last night.” He lowered his voice on the last sentence and looked at his sister, who blushed and avoided his eyes.
Henry groaned into his teacup, as he had a vague recollection of speaking to Charlotte the previous evening. Had he come across her last night when he had been wandering the halls, addled by brandy?
An awful thought struck him. Had he revealed anything he shouldn’t?
Henry turned to Charlotte. “Actually, I believe I shall. I could use the fresh air, as William says, and I am most decidedly not in the best condition for a hunt.”
Charlotte smiled at him with mischief glinting in her eyes, and for a moment, he found himself catching his breath as their gazes met. Flustered, knowing William was watching, he quickly excused himself.
