Chapter 32

Chapter 32

William wanted to comfort his wife, but she seemed so far away that he doubted she would notice. She still clutched the letter from home, unwilling to put it away. Charlotte was justifiably worried about her mother, but he hated seeing her so troubled.

Despite his best efforts, she had barely said anything since they left the theater, and several times, he had caught the sheen of tears in her eyes. William knew what it felt like to have a sickly mother. He had watched his mother wither away before his very eyes, so he could relate to her fears. Charlotte knew this, but perhaps she couldn't recall this information because her mind was likely a mess of emotions and thoughts.

Their carriage arrived home, and before they even reached the front door, Louise came running out of the house and into Charlotte's arms.

"Mama will be just fine," said Charlotte, rubbing her sister's back soothingly.

"How can you be so sure?" Louise asked. "The note made it sound serious. I shouldn't have stayed in London so long."

"You will not blame yourself for something you cannot control," said Charlotte, taking her sister's shoulders firmly and looking her in the eyes. "Papa is with her—she is not alone."

"But I shall not rest until I see her," said Louise. "How soon can we leave?"

Charlotte slid her arm around her sister's waist and turned to William. "Can we leave tomorrow? We want to be home with our mother as soon as possible."

It sounded like she only meant her and her sister—not him. It hurt not to be included in the plan, but William told himself to be more understanding. Charlotte was concerned about her mother, not how he felt.

"We can leave early tomorrow," he replied. "I'll have Mallery organize everything."

Charlotte nodded. "Thank you." She looked at her sister. "We should go inside."

A carriage drew up to the house before they entered the foyer. Only then did William recall that Gregory had asked to accompany them to the house.

"Lord Gregory is here?" he heard Louise ask.

No one needed to reply because his friend flew out of his carriage and approached them worriedly. William noted his eyes were solely on Louise.

"Lady Louise," he said, removing his hat. "I heard what happened. I am so sorry."

Louise quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and curtsied. "Thank you, my lord."

"Shall we go inside?" William suggested. He didn't want Charlotte to stand around outside, not when she looked like she wanted to crawl into bed. "We can have the housekeeper bring refreshments."

Everyone agreed, but when they entered the house, Charlotte decided she would rather go to her room.

"I feel rather tired," she explained.

William believed her. Her skin was pale, and her eyes no longer held their usual sparkle. He had never seen her like this before.

"Let me take you there," he insisted.

"It's not necessary," his wife said.

William shook his head. "Let me take you there," he said firmly.

He wasn't going to take no for an answer. Charlotte sighed and nodded, allowing him to take her arm and tuck it in his.

"Lord Gregory, forgive me for not staying longer in your company," she said. "I'm afraid I'm too tired this evening."

"I understand, Your Grace," Gregory replied.

Charlotte smiled slightly and turned to her sister. "I'll see you tomorrow morning," she said. She leaned closer and kissed her sister's cheek. "Do not worry too much. We'll see Mama soon."

Louise nodded and briefly embraced her sister. "I hope you take the same advice," she said.

The sisters parted, and William helped his wife upstairs. Her steps were labored, so he kept their pace slow and steady. They reached her room, and for the umpteenth time since several weeks ago, he wished they shared a room. His room might be next to hers, but he didn't want a door separating them.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked. "Do anything for you?"

William wanted her to invite him into her room where he could hold her hand until she fell asleep. Perhaps he could stroke her hair and even tuck the sheets around her. His mother often did that for him when he wasn't feeling well, bringing him much comfort. He wanted to give his wife the same comfort.

Charlotte smiled and briefly touched his arm. "No, that isn't necessary," she said. "All I wish to do is go home to my mother before...Before it's too late."

"Do not think like that," he said. "I'm sure she will be well again."

Charlotte nodded. "I hope so." She entered her room and turned to him with her hand on the door. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he replied.

William's face fell the moment the door closed. Charlotte didn't want comfort from him—her husband. She didn't want him to hold her and tell her everything would be all right again. He had hoped they had drawn closer enough as a married couple to welcome such privileges, but he was wrong. A husband and wife were supposed to be one person. When one suffered, the other felt the same pain. When one was happy, the other experienced the same joy. Most importantly, they endured challenges together.

In the beginning, William didn't care about such things. His vows had not meant much to him. However, it was different now. He wanted everything and more, but perhaps Charlotte wasn't confident about their bond yet.

Sighing, he hung his head and went downstairs to the drawing room, where he found Gregory alone.

"Louise decided to retire for bed as well," Gregory explained. "She appeared dead on her feet."

William nodded. "I'm not surprised," he said. "The sisters have had stressful news. I can only hope their mother is not too ill. I do not wish to see my wife lose her mother."

"Do not even think about it," Gregory told him. "We should only think optimistic thoughts."

"You're right," William agreed. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you," said Gregory, rising to his feet. "I think I should go home. It will be an early day tomorrow."

William rose with him and walked him out. "Early day?" he asked. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I'm accompanying you to the Huntingtons' home," Gregory said as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

William glanced at his friend. Gregory had not said anything about accompanying them back to the countryside, but William wasn't surprised. He had seen his friend's face when he looked at Louise. He appeared smitten with the young woman.

"There's no need for you to come with us," said William. "I'm sure you have other things to do in London. You enjoy your trips here."

"I'm coming," Gregory insisted.

His voice brooked no argument. Gregory wasn't one to go this far for any woman, so Louise had to be someone special and different from the rest. However, William was still worried about their age gap. Perhaps his fears concerning being significantly older than Charlotte had created this concern because it wasn't such an unusual practice.

Older men married younger women all the time, but it also meant they rarely had anything in common and merely existed in their marriage in their simplest forms—the overbearing and authoritative husband and the meek, submissive wife with nothing in common but children and living under the same roof. William had initially wanted nothing else because he had been focused on the family estate, but that had changed.

"This is about Lady Louise, isn't it?" William asked.

Gregory stiffened. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," said William. "It's written all over your face. We're friends, Gregory. We've known each other for some time. I can read your expressions rather easily."

Gregory sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I feel like a fool for even allowing myself to have any interest in her," he said. "Lady Louise is so beautiful, intelligent, and young . We're eighteen years apart! What am I thinking?"

"We cannot help our feelings," William told him as they entered the foyer. "And your age gap is not the largest I have ever heard of. What about that earl who married a woman fifty years his junior? He now has two children he'll likely never see married. You still have that opportunity."

Gregory grimaced. "Who would marry their daughter off to someone that old?"

"Many parents," said William.

"I suppose so," his friend replied. "Marrying one's daughter off is always a priority, but I doubt Lady Louise's parents would allow her to marry a man much older than her."

"I am eleven years older than my wife," William reminded him.

"Twelve should be the limit," said Gregory.

William shrugged his shoulders. "Everyone is different. Think of it this way—my brother may be closer to her age, but he would be a terrible choice. You would be far better than him."

Gregory snorted. "Anyone would be better than Lord Henry. He has no respect for women."

William couldn't argue with that. It suddenly occurred to him that returning to the countryside meant likely seeing his brother again. He wasn't looking forward to that, but it was time to lay down rules between him and his brother.