The Lady of Charlotte, Part 6

In which Charlotte helps Harry...

Read previous parts here.

Photo by Xuan Nguyen on Unsplash

Chapter Three

As often thro’ the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over still Shalott.

Charlotte successfully avoided Harry for the next two days. She also successfully avoided Olivier. To say that she was embarrassed was like comparing a sand castle to the Ozark site. Her shame was several million times larger than mere embarrassment.

It didn’t help that she couldn’t stop replaying the forehead kiss. It had just been a forehead kiss! And yet, it was like his lips had seared into her skin. She kept brushing her fingers where they’d touched. She kept wondering what it would be like to feel them elsewhere—her cheek, her jaw, her mouth.

She feared she might have developed a bit of a crush on him. A wee tendre. A tiny case of the feelings. It felt like she was eighteen all over again and had still never kissed a boy (she was a very…very late bloomer).

Of course, when she was eighteen,…