“Nay,” Gerard added coolly. “It’s just…” He trailed off, losing the battle as his head turned to look at Charlotte once again.
He longed to have her back beside him, so they could tease one another again. Other than with Jeffrey, she was the person in the room with whom he felt most himself. At Charlotte’s side, they could talk with ease.
She was also not afraid of him. She didn’t quell under his stare, but instead, had clung to his arm as they walked off the dance floor, as if she knew he would keep her safe.
I’ll always look out for ye, Charlotte, if ye wish me to.
“And you’re sure there’s nothing more than a tutorship between you?” Jeffrey asked, cutting into Gerard’s thoughts. “It’s just that you look most upset by Mr. Withers’ attention to Lady Charlotte.”
“She was here, just a minute ago.” Gerard waved frantically at the space beside him. “Now, she runs off, and he stares at her like she’s some painting on the walls of Somerset House.”
“I see what you mean. No, that doesn’t sound like jealousy at all,” Jeffrey murmured wryly.
“I’m nae jealous,” Gerard insisted. “I can admire Charlotte though, cannae I? Without intention.”
“Of course, ye can.” Jeffrey nodded. “If that’s what was really at play here.”
“That is all it is.”
“Sure, it is,” Jeffrey said, but a mischievous smile was still playing on his lips. “Mr. Withers is a keen dancer. He might ask Lady Charlotte to dance, you know.”
“To dance?” Gerard spluttered. Suddenly, the possibility of seeing Charlotte standing up with another man in the room felt wrong indeed. His hand tightened so much about the glass in his grasp that the spindle actually splintered, fracturing off the base of the glass.
“Yes, you look perfectly at ease with the idea. Do you want to give me that broken glass before you end up stabbing yourself with it?” Jeffrey tried to get the pieces of the glass out of Gerard’s hand.
He looked down distractedly, barely realizing what he had done under his own strength. Nearby, he heard two gasps and glanced toward the sources of those sounds. It was two ladies who had noticed what he had done to the glass. One shuddered in fear and the other hurried away, pulling her friend with her.
Gerard shifted his weight between his feet.
“I might as well be the beast they all fear me to be,” he muttered darkly.
“Pff, ignore those that judge you so quickly. Spend your time with those who would see the real you instead. Like Lady Charlotte.”
“Enough teasin’,” Gerard warned.
“I never promised that.” Jeffrey laughed. “You have to give me a little fun. Oh, look, Mr. Withers is asking for her dance card.”
Gerard stepped forward, seeing that Mr. Withers was indeed now taking Charlotte’s dance card from her wrist. She didn’t smile but nodded, clearly accepting the invitation as he wrote his name down on the card with a small pencil.
“If ye would excuse me, Jeffrey,” Gerard said hurriedly. He only heard Jeffrey’s amused laughter as he walked away. He ignored the tittering gossip nearby, even the way that some people turned to look at him, pointing in his direction. Clearly, he was still the center of some gossip, despite all of his efforts to blend in and no longer be thought a beast in a tailcoat.
His breathing quickened, and he felt a tightness consuming his body. It wouldn’t abate, not even when he reached Charlotte’s and Mr. Withers’ side. Lady Susan looked toward him, the first to notice his approach, where her smile promptly faded.
She doesn’t want me anywhere near her niece, does she?
For some reason, this made him feel even worse. It didn’t matter that he had no designs on marrying Charlotte. The knowledge that Lady Susan thought him so unworthy of Charlotte made the pain all the worse.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat as he stepped beside Charlotte and Mr. Withers.
Charlotte stood at once, her lips parting a little in surprise. Mr. Withers followed, but at a slower pace. His eyes narrowed, just a touch, as he looked up to meet Gerard’s gaze.
“Your Grace,” Charlotte added a quick curtsy. “May I introduce you to Mr. Withers?” There was something disapproving in her expression. Clearly, she didn’t think he should announce himself just by clearing his throat. He wondered if it niggled at her. “Mr. Withers, this is the Duke of Rodstone.”
“Yes, so I have heard.” Mr. Withers bowed, though there was a curl to his nose that suggested he felt no respect whatsoever for Gerard. “You are the duke born in a slum in Scotland, were you not?”
The coarseness of the statement made Charlotte blanch. She looked ready to fall over into the chair, just as behind her, Lady Susan fanned her own face particularly quickly.
Gerard, on the other hand, was not surprised. He supposed it was Mr. Withers’ way to try and oust him from Charlotte’s side, by being rude enough to cause offence.
