William, who had been staring at them with a grim expression throughout their exchange, exhaled sharply. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. He turned to Charlotte and held out his hand. “Come, Charlotte. I will escortyou back to the house while I decide what must be done about this.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her heart was in pieces, her stomach twisted into knots. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?
She pivoted away from Henry, unable to even look at him lest he see her despair. She allowed William to take her other arm, wincing at the renewed throbbing in her ankle.
William turned back to Henry. Before leading Charlotte away, he said curtly, “You will never speak to Charlotte again. You will stay away from her, or you will have me to answer to. You… uttercad.”
At the insult, and the contempt in William’s voice, Henry’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“But it did,” William snapped. “If you won’t marry Charlotte and save her from this scandal, then you have no need to be in her company again. You’re going to ruin her.”
Charlotte inhaled sharply, praying Henry would make a stand or perhaps take back everything he’d just said because surely he didn’t mean it, but Henry didn’t argue with William’s words. Didn’t fight for her. Didn’t say a damn thing.
And that silence and resignation hurt more than anything else. Even more than his spoken refusal to be wed.
William was seething, his face a shade redder than usual, and Charlotte could feel his fury radiating from him in almost tangible waves. She tried to urge him away, but he let his temper get the better of him, brushing her arm away and spinning back around.
“You should never have been alone with her,” he bit out, his voice low and controlled but brimming with anger. “How could you do this to my sister, of all people? You have practically been part of our family. We grew up together!”
Charlotte saw a flicker of hurt in Henry’s eyes.So, this upsets him, but not the rest. He really doesn’t care about me, only my brother.
“William, I—” Henry stepped forward, his hand stretched out toward William.
“No,” William snapped, smacking Henry’s hand away. “I trusted you. I trusted you to look after my sister. And you let me down.”
Charlotte’s gut clenched at his words, not just with hurt now but guilt. Perhaps if she and her friends had never started scheming, this wouldn’t have happened. But at the same time, she was angry. Because as much as she hated being at the center of their argument, being spoken about as though she had no say in the matter at all was even worse.
But even more than that, she hated the look on Henry’s face. The sheer horror at the thought of being forced into marriage with her.
“I expect you to either stay away from her,” William continued, his voice like steel, “or resolve your damned problem and do right by her.”
Again, this mention of a mysterious problem. She wondered if it was the same issue that Henry had referred to when drunk the night before. She dared a glance at Miranda, hoping her friend might have insight that Charlotte did not, but Miranda was wide-eyed and tightlipped, obviously afraid to speak and draw attention to herself.
But what did it matter now anyway? The point was clear: Henry wanted nothing to do with her. She had been foolish to ever believe it could be otherwise.
But if that was the case, then she was done with being ordered around by either of them.
She took a breath, willing herself to keep her voice steady. “Miranda will take me back to the house. We can’t have poor Henry being tempted and trapped by my presence, can we?”
Henry flinched at her words, and William looked shocked at her impropriety, but she didn’t give either of them a chance to respond.
Looking now at William, she tilted her chin defiantly. “And you don’t get to dictate my life. I may be your sister, but I know my own mind and will make my own choices.”
She turned on her heel—an action she immediately regretted as pain shot up her ankle. But she didn’t stop. She refused to stop.
With as much dignity as she could muster, she leaned on Miranda, unhooked her arm from William’s, and hobbled away, ignoring William calling after her, ignoring the ache in her chest, ignoring even the overwhelming urge to break down and cry.
Henry had made his choice, and she refused to stand there and watch him regret his actions. And if he didn’t regret them? Shereallydidn’t want to see that.
Fortunately, Miranda didn’t speak during the walk back except to murmur an apology, repeated several times over. Charlotte assured her she had done nothing wrong, but even still she barely managed to hold herself together as she climbed the front steps of Arundel Park, her ankle protesting with every step.
The humiliation, the hurt, the overwhelming frustration—everything pressed against her chest like a weight she couldn’t shake.
She needed to leave right now, before news of this scandal broke and she had to face either Henry or her brother again. She didn’t even want to see her friends. She just wanted to go home.
She shook Miranda off, limped up the stairs, ignoring the offers of help from the servants, and made her way to her mother’s room. She found Lady Fitzgerald sitting at a window,a cup of tea in hand, looking utterly at ease. Of course, Lady Fitzgerald hadn’t gone traipsing through the countryside with the younger women.
Charlotte took a steadying breath, then walked straight into the room. “Mother, I want to leave,” she announced without preamble. “Right away.”
