“I shall see you outside the front hall after everyone has changed into their walking clothes, my lady,” he said, bowing politely to Charlotte and then to Felicity before walking away.
Midmorning, he joined the ladies where they were gathered outside, having prepared for their walk. The morning sun cast long, golden streaks across the manicured gardens, the scent of roses and freshly turned earth filling the air. The grounds made such a pretty picture that Henry could almost forget his current cares.
Almost.
His stomach sank as he saw the ladies gathered close to Felicity and Charlotte, including their friends and a few others, and realized that he was unlikely to get Charlotte on her own—at least not in a way that would go unnoticed—during this walk.
As the women curtsied and simpered at him, he fancied that he could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. Their eyes tracked his every movement, eager and assessing. For a moment, he wished he had braved the hunt.
He quickly fell in beside Charlotte and Felicity, who, to his amusement, was casting sharp glances at another pair of ladies. They set off down the path, the folly visible in the distance, a small, elegant ruin atop a gentle slope. The morning sun was mellow, the breeze mild, and Henry was just beginning to relax when Charlotte stumbled beside him.
With a sharp gasp, she fell forward. Henry caught her before she hit the ground, steadying her with both hands.
“Are you all right, my lady?” he asked, concern furrowing his brow. “That was quite a tumble.”
She winced as she tested her foot, yelping as soon as she tried to put any weight on it. “I—I think I rolled my ankle.”
Immediately, the other women crowded in, expressions ranging from concern to irritation.
Felicity stepped in their way, tilting her head up at Henry. “She should rest and get that looked at. Could you escort her back to the house, Your Grace? I’m sure the other ladies will join me on my walk.”
Henry shot Felicity a look of gratitude and seized the opportunity before the other women could contradict her. “Excellent idea. As your host, I must indeed insist that I shall escort her back. We wouldn’t want her further injuring herself.” He met Charlotte’s gaze and held out his arm. “Shall we?”
Charlotte hesitated only briefly before nodding. Henry placed her arm over his, supporting her as they turned away from the group.
“Wait!” Miss Harriet Fairchild protested. “What of a chaperone?”
Henry stopped cold. That was a very valid point. One he had not considered in his eagerness to spend time with Charlotte away from the others.
Miranda stepped forward. “I will accompany them back. I have been reading the most fascinating treatise on local orchid varietals and will gladly return to it early.”
Henry smiled at her. “That would be most welcome, Miss Sutton.”
The disgruntled stares of the other young ladies burned into his back as the three of them split off from the group, but he hardly cared, although he did feel faintly guilty that he was able to take the opportunity to accompany Charlotte only because she had injured herself.
As they made their slow way toward the house, Miranda immediately dropped behind them, as if she were a maid performing chaperone duties. It was slightly unusual but Henry was grateful for the privacy. He cleared his throat, wondering how to broach the subject of his drunken evening.
“Charlotte, about last night…” he murmured, too softly for Miranda to hear.
She peered up at him, her lips twisting slightly in amusement, although he could also see concern flickering in her eyes. If only he could remember what he’d said to her.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to apologize. I hope I wasn’t in any way inappropriate.”
Her brows knitted together. “So, you recall seeing me?”
“Not entirely,” he admitted, shamefaced. “I remember… shadows of it. Talking to you in the corridor near my room.” He stopped as he recalled that he couldn’t remember getting into bed or taking off his boots—which had been neatly placed near the bed when he awoke that morning. “You helped me to myroom, didn’t you?” He pressed his hand over his eyes, utterly embarrassed.
She nodded, shifting her weight slightly against him. “Yes. I did. You were… rather inebriated, and I couldn’t leave you for one of your other guests to find. But you said—and did—nothing inappropriate, Your Grace. You can rest assured of that.”
Relief curled in his stomach. “Then I owe you my thanks as well as my apologies. I received some unpleasant news yesterday, and I fear I didn’t handle it well.”
She hesitated. “May I ask what news?”
He exhaled, unwilling to burden her as he had William, in spite of the fact that he instinctively knew that he could trust Charlotte just as much as he could her brother. “Nothing that need concern you. I was simply… preoccupied.”
Her frown deepened, but she didn’t press him further. Instead, she limped a little more heavily, and he carefully tightened his grip on her waist to keep her steady.
