Page 18 of The Wilful Widow
“I don’t think so, though I may need a little support,” Charlotte said, sucking in a breath as his large, warm hand closed over hers, and she rested her forehead briefly against his shoulder when he’d helped her to her feet.
“Alexander said you’d taken quite a tumble before he rushed off,” Miss Huxtable chattered on as they began to make their way down the slope towards Quamby House, Charlotte making full use of Alexander’s shoulder. “Though I didn’t see it, myself.”
Alexander, for his part, had one hand firmly about Charlotte’s waist. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but it felt that, every so often, he’d gently increase the pressure on her hand or around her waist. The contact was thrilling and made her chest ache with expectation. Frustrated expectation, for she knew nothing could come of it.
“But it’s good to see that you’ve not twisted your ankle as badly as feared and can, we hope, fully enjoy the dancing after tomorrow’s play,” Miss Huxtable went on, undeterred by Alexander’s lack of response to her prattling. “I’m certainly looking forward to the dancing. And to a chance to impress in the new dress I’m to wear.” She giggled. “Alexander, you haven’t seen it but it’s the same colour as the dress I wore when you first noticed I’d come out of the school room and was all grown up. That was an evening to remember. Lady Highcliff, do you dance?”
She sounded as if she’d continue without waiting for an answer, but Charlotte was determined to be heard. “I love to dance,” she said, slanting a look at Alexander. “I’ll never forget my first dance, either. At the Assembly Rooms in Tunbridge Wells.”
With a thrill, she felt the convulsive tightening of Alexander’s hand about her waist.
So, it wasn’t just she who remembered.
“How lovely to still recall that,” said Miss Huxtable, “when it must have been such a very long time ago.”
She clearly hadn’t intended it as an insult and was still prattling on as Charlotte and Alexander shared a secret smile at her ingenuousness.
Miss Huxtable tucked an escaped ringlet behind her ear. “I’m sure you wish Lord Ashbrook had come with us so he could have done the gentlemanly thing instead of Alexander who is such a good sort when it comes to lending a helping hand.” Miss Huxtable broke off suddenly, crying out, “Why, Lord Ashbrook has braved the rain, after all. Here he is, come to look for you, Lady Highcliff.”
Charlotte wasn’t sure which caused her the greatest distress: the fact that Alexander dropped his supporting hand from about her waist and moved slightly away; or that Ashbrook was brandishing an oilskin, a look of censure upon his face as he said, “My dear, I thought I warned you the weather was ominous. Now, look at the state of you. Your gown is filthy! Let’s get you back to the house before you catch your death.”
With barely a nod at the rest of them, Ashbrook caged her hand in his, not asking if she were up to hurrying at his pace, and marched her along the path.
Charlotte made no objection. What was there to say, after all? Ashbrook was right. It had been foolish to venture out when the likelihood of rain was so great.
Walking in the rain was one more thing she’d once enjoyed that she must be prepared to give up, without complaint.
Beatrice walked on her other side, obediently agreeing with Ashbrook that her childish folly may well result in feverish chills.
Charlotte blocked her ears to his doomsday talk, her heart still racing at her short interaction with Alexander. He’d held her. The pressure of his touch had seemed to communicate something to her. He’d shared a smile with her, fondly, over an important memory.
But she dared not look over her shoulder. Resolutely, she stared ahead, now listening to Ashbrook’s counsel about her duty towards Beatrice and himself to take good care of her own health.
However, there comes a time when a wilful heart cannot be subdued by a rational mind. Just before rounding a bend that would take them out of sight, Charlotte twisted her head anddidlook over her shoulder.
Immediately, she wished she hadn’t.
Jessamine’s hand was tucked into the crook of Alexander’s arm, and he was bending to hear something she was saying, his cheek almost touching hers.
It was a searing sight: two young people, hearts united, clearly in love.
They’d each come to Quamby House in the expectation of leaving as a betrothed couple, after having known one another almost their whole lives.
Who was Charlotte to waltz in and, on the basis of having known Alexander for only three days, nine years ago, think she could change what had so long been set in stone?
Chapter 10
“Are you ready to play your roles, ladies and gentlemen?” The children had arrived, swarming into the room, though there were only three of them, but three unrestrained children with the energy Katherine displayed gave the impression of many more.
Alexander noted the mixed reaction of the grown-ups. Ladies Fenton and Quamby looked supremely proud of their offspring. Lord Ashbrook looked distinctly fed up at the idea of pandering to youngsters.
And Charlotte looked worried as she followed Beatrice with her gaze. Alexander wanted to reassure her that Beatrice would grow up with Charlotte’s confidence. Not because he was sure she would, but because it would simply be nice to have a reason to talk to her.
But he couldn’t because Jessamine clung to his arm.
Only, Jessamine was suddenly talking to Lord Ashbrook, so Alexander made his way over to the cluster of chairs where the adults would soon take their seats and said as nonchalantly as he could, “I wonder what they have in store for us. Katherine seems excited.”
The walk the previous day was the greatest torture he could remember. To be so close to Charlotte, yet unable to communicate with her… He’d barely slept a wink all night.
