Charlotte’s breath caught. Marriage? Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn’t fully processed the implications of what had happened. Of course marriage would be the reasonable expectation after being caught in such a way.
But Henry didn’t want to marry—and according to William, there was a deeper reason for this. She looked over at Henry, her confusion rising like a tide.
What problems?
What had actually been keeping him from marriage? And why had William spoken as though he knew something she didn’t?
“No,” Henry said, his face pale.
Any hope she had that Henry might say yes—that he might look at her and see a future—vanished in an instant.
“I haven’t resolved anything. And I cannot—willnot—marry Charlotte. I’m sorry.”
He looked horrified at the very thought. As though the idea repulsed him.
Charlotte covered her mouth, tears burning her eyes. So much for his claim to care for her. He would rather see her ruined than marry her.
Something inside her cracked. She had feared rejection before, feared that Henry might not return her feelings. But this was even worse.
He wouldn’t marry her. Not just couldn’t.
Wouldn’t.
What was so wrong with her that it was so utterly impossible? That he could kiss her, but then refuse to marry her when the stakes—for her, at least—were so high?
Any chance of a future began to crumble to dust before her eyes. Before, she had been terrified of being married to someone she disliked. Now, that would be a haven compared to the societal rejection that would follow. William had no intention of keeping this quiet, that was clear.
And Henry…
Henry didn’t want her.
Her throat tightened, and she forced herself to drag in a breath. Then she lifted her chin, determined not to let them see how much this hurt. Miranda darted around William and strode to Charlotte. As soon as she reached her side, she looped their arms together, and Charlotte drew comfort from her friend’s silent support.
“You’re sorry?” William demanded. “What the hell good is that? You kiss my sister, but she isn’t enough for you? You’vetreated her as though she’s no better than a woman from the taverns! Is that how you see us? Are we so far beneath you?”
Charlotte shrank into Miranda, the accusation stinging bitterly, but he was right. William was right.
Henry’s lips thinned. His expression had become opaque, and Charlotte had no idea what he was thinking. “You know it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” Charlotte asked before her brother could respond, finding her voice at last. “Because I must confess that I’m at a loss to understand this treatment from you.” She straightened her shoulders and stood her ground in spite of her distress, staring directly at him, forcing him to meet her eyes.
Henry ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly exhausted. “It isn’t you, Charlotte. It’s me. There are things about me that you don’t know. Things I can’t explain.”
She swallowed hard. “Try.”
He hesitated and looked away, but that was answer enough.
She laughed, but it was humorless. “Right. Of course. Because I’m just William’s little sister, aren’t I? No need to explain anything to me. I don’t matter. I was just, what, a dalliance for themoment?” She flung his words back at him.
Henry took a step toward her. “Charlotte, please….”
“Don’t, Your Grace.” She held up a hand, blinking back the sting of her tears. “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”
Henry’s jaw clenched. “I’m trying to protect you. There are reasons…”
“But you won’t share them?” she demanded. “You won’t explain?”
“I can’t.”
