William offered an understanding nod, pressing the matter no further. In silence, they continued toward the house, the large stone façade soon coming into view, imposing yet familiar. He could lose all of this if his true origins came out, but for once, he didn’t care. He was tired of bearing such a grave responsibility.
As they reached the drive, Lady Fitzgerald appeared at the entrance, concern etched deeply into her features. “William, do you have any idea what’s wrong with Charlotte? She is demanding to leave and acting most unlike herself. I have never heard such defiance from her. She is quite overwrought. Do you think she is ill?”
Henry’s stomach twisted painfully, guilt and fear entwining. The thought of Charlotte departing before he had the chance to speak with her again sent panic surging through him even as heknew he should keep his distance. He just… hated the thought that he had driven her away.
William gave his mother a reassuring smile, though Henry recognized the worry behind it. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious, Mother. According to Henry, she turned her ankle and is perhaps in some pain, but I’m assured it was a tumble, nothing more. I think this is all just too overwhelming for her. You know what she’s like. Perhaps it would be best to take her home.”
Lady Fitzgerald’s brow remained furrowed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied her son, her skepticism evident. “Very well, but I must see that Charlotte is not having some kind of turn. She was terribly upset, and I would not like to offend Her Grace by leaving early.”
Henry bowed to her, which gave him the opportunity to hide his face. He felt sure that Charlotte’s mother would read his guilt written all over it. “Not at all, my lady. I will speak to my mother. There will be no offence if Charlotte wishes to leave. Indeed,” he said as he straightened. “I am becoming quite tired of the whole affair myself.”
He left William to deal with his now bewildered mother and took the stairs to his rooms, reflecting on his last words to Lady Fitzgerald. He really had had enough. This whole affair was draining him and setting his teeth on edge. He wanted his guests to go so he could deal with whatever conflict awaited and plan his trip abroad.
As well as nurse his broken heart.
He went to his mother’s room, where he found her perusing her gowns, no doubt deciding what to wear for tonight’s dinner.
“Henry! Why are you not with the ladies at the folly? You must make yourself agreeable, or all my efforts will have been for nothing.”
Anger flared within him, hot and unexpected. “Your efforts? Your efforts are precisely why I’m in this impossible position.If not for your choices, I could have had a chance at happiness without endangering someone I care about!”
She stiffened, her eyes narrowing in shock and displeasure. “How dare you speak to me in this manner—”
“I dare because it is the truth,” he interrupted fiercely. “Understand this: I have no intention of marrying any of those women.”
“Henry!”
“No, Mother,” he said, his tone firm. “I am done with this charade. No matter how much you beg and plead, I will not marry. I will not carry this secret on any further for another generation to deal with. I will hear no more on the matter.”
Before she could reply, he turned abruptly and walked out of her room.
CHAPTER 23
“Makesure the first note goes to Lord Arundel and the second to my brother, Lord Fitzgerald,” Charlotte whispered, pressing the notes and two coins into her maid’s hand.
Mary bobbed and hurried off down the corridor.
Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief that she had not been overheard or observed. She shut the door and leaned back on it. What a wretched day.
She could still feel the press of Henry’s lips on hers and remembered his delicious spicy scent as he’d pulled her into his arms… but shemuststop thinking of it. He had made it clear that he didn’t want her, that she was only a dalliance.
A knock came at the other side of the door, and she jumped, her hand flying to her chest. Was it Mary? Had someone apprehended her and discovered the notes?
Heart pounding, Charlotte opened the door to see Helena, Felicity, Adeline, Genevieve, and Miranda crowding together in the doorframe, their faces both eager and concerned.
“What happened earlier, after you left with Henry?” Felicity asked, searching Charlotte’s face. “Miranda will not tell us anything but she’s most distraught.”
“I’m not distraught,” Miranda said briskly, although she was certainly paler than usual. “I am being discreet and respecting my friend’s privacy.”
Helena scoffed. “You are being no help at all.”
Adeline ignored them. Her brow creased with concern. “You look pale. Is your ankle so painful? Did something awful happen?”
Charlotte burst into tears.
Felicity’s eyes widened. “Oh, my dear! What is it?”
Miranda hustled Charlotte into the room and got her to sit down near the window. Adeline poured her a glass of water while Helena shut the door and pushed a chair in front of it so no one could come in. Genevieve thrust her handkerchief into Charlotte’s hand.
