Gentleman of Her Dreams by Jen Turano Page A

platonic way.
    “I’ll be right back,” Henry said, breaking into her thoughts. “I’m going to see if Mr. and Mr. Beckett could use some assistance. The wind’s kicking up, and these sails can be tricky.”
    Charlotte watched as Henry moved across the sailboat, his feet steady and his gait rolling with the motion of the boat. She sometimes forgot he had lived the past two years of his life on the sea, but now, watching him, she realized he was at home on the water. At home as if he’d finally discovered where and what his life was meant to be.
    A spray of water prompted her to move away from the edge, and she looked up just in time to see the boom heading straight toward her.
    “Charlotte, get down,” Henry yelled.
    Charlotte tried to drop, but the blanket got stuck on the railing, and before she could get a single sound out of her mouth, the boom made contact. She went flying through the air, but before she plunged overboard a second time, a strong arm grabbed her and pulled her to safety.

4
    H e needed to let Charlotte go.
    As Henry rode in his carriage the next evening, on his way to meet Charlotte for the Watsons’ dinner party, he thought about how she’d almost died twice yesterday. If he counted her fall from the buggy, it was three times in less than a week.
    He’d been careless with her, careless with the one woman who mattered more to him than anyone else in the entire world because he lacked the ability to say no to her.
    She deserved better; she deserved more. She needed a man who could balance her impetuous nature, and clearly he was not the gentleman for that particular job.
    It had taken every ounce of strength he possessed not to grab her out of Hamilton’s arms yesterday when that gentleman snagged her out of thin air and saved her from another trip into the bay. He should have been the one to rescue her, but he’d been distracted with the ropes and didn’t realize Charlotte was once again in harm’s way. The only thing that kept him from inserting himself between Hamilton and Charlotte was the knowledge that he obviously was not worthy of her. She deserved the opportunity to become better acquainted with Hamilton, a gentleman who had proven himself capable of keeping Charlotte safe.
    He had to let her go, but first he would help her—help her in her quest to secure Hamilton. He would wait until she succeeded, and then he would leave.
    He’d already informed his parents of his plan, told them he was anxious to get back on the seas and face the next order of business.
    His mother hadn’t believed him.
    She’d arched a brow and questioned what part Charlotte played in his decision to leave so soon after he’d arrived in New York.
    His mother had always been annoyingly observant, but, to give her credit, she hadn’t pressed him when he relinquished relatively few details regarding Charlotte and his feelings for her. Instead, and much to his confusion, she had offered to secure him and Charlotte invitations to the Watsons’ dinner party.
    She was up to something, something he didn’t really want to contemplate, but Hamilton would be attending the Watsons’ party, so he’d agreed.
    She’d gotten him the coveted invitations, told him Mrs. Watson was only too happy to extend him one. She’d also added that she’d tried to convince Mrs. Watson to place Charlotte next to Mr. Beckett, but unfortunately, Mrs. Watson seemed to have plans for Hamilton—something to do with her daughter, Agatha. For a brief moment, hope had blossomed until reality returned. He remembered his vow, and he realized obtaining Hamilton for Charlotte might be a bit trickier than he’d imagined.
    Not that Henry believed Hamilton wasn’t interested in Charlotte. There had been a very male gleam in that gentleman’s eye when they’d sat huddled on the deck and he’d held Charlotte close to him. Held her closer than was strictly necessary, if truth be told.
    He’d felt the oddest urge to toss the bounder