“Oh pray for the Lord’s patience,” Susan sighed as her sister appeared. “Margaret, you really must learn to lower your volume in crowds such as these.”
“Whatever for?” Margaret asked, though she blushed all the same and readjusted a lock of her hair, half hiding her face.
It was a strange action, but as Charlotte looked at her mother, she briefly saw a mirror image of herself.
She saw herself the night of her debut, how gentlemen and ladies had whispered and pointed at her, for she did not know how to dance properly, and she took the wrong wine first at dinner. Shehad hidden in much the same way, taking a lock of her dark hair and threading it over her cheek to hide.
“What is it, Mother?” Charlotte turned to face her, but suddenly, her mother was staring at her, quite agog. “Mother?” She waved a hand in front of her mother’s face.
“Dearest,” Susan said through gritted teeth. “Were we not in public, I’d tap your face to bring you to your senses. As it is, we want no one to see such behavior. Care to come to your good reason all on your own?”
Margaret blinked, as if woken from a spell, and gestured down at what Charlotte was wearing.
“Where did you get that gown?”
“Oh… it’s… an old one,” Charlotte’s lie was obvious, even to her own ears.
Silence fell between the three of them, made all the more noticeable by the loud musicians just behind them.
Charlotte looked down and adjusted the sage green gown the Duke of Rodstone had gifted to her. She was quite determined to wear it tonight. She was indebted to him, and owed him great gratitude for numerous things now, and it struck her greatly that she still hadn’t thanked him for the gown, nor even acknowledged it to him. It was high time to right that wrong.
“It’s not old. I know all your gowns,” Margaret insisted, her temple wrinkling. “Where did you get it?”
“Nowhere,” Charlotte said hurriedly.
“What is happening?” Susan placed her hands on her hips. “Charlotte, did you order a new gown?”
“Do you not like it?”
“It’s very beautiful, elegant, too. It suits you well,” Susan said with a smile.
“But we do not have the money—” Margaret began but was heavily shushed by Susan.
“No one speaks of money at an assembly, dear,” Susan corrected her.
“Don’t they?” Charlotte asked, her eyes darting around the crowd. “How curious, because to my mind, everyone seems to be making an appearance out of having it, whether they do or don’t.” Her mother laughed, but Susan simply arched her eyebrows.
“Charlotte, I must insist upon knowing. Where did you get that gown?”
“I…” She was scrambling now, feeling as if she was swimming in deep water, but unable to keep her head above water.
“I apologize for interruptin’.” The deep Scottish tone made Charlotte whip her head around eagerly. She smiled up at the Duke of Rodstone who had appeared behind them. There was a small smile on his own lips as his eyes drifted down her dress.
“No, no, not at all.” Margaret put on a front of ease, no longer worried about the dress. “How nice to see you have joined the assembly this evening, Your Grace.” She curtsied, as did Charlotte and Susan, as the duke bowed. “Have you come eager to dance tonight? So many gentlemen are fond of dancing at these events.”
“Mother—” Charlotte whispered, fearing this was her mother’s way into trying to persuade the duke to dance with her.
“A fine evening for it, is it not?” Margaret pushed on, as if she had not heard Charlotte at all. “My daughter’s dance card is empty at the moment, too.”
“Heaven help us,” Susan muttered, looking around plainly in search of a drink to bear with her sister’s oblivious manner.
Charlotte blushed a deep shade of red and looked down between them. She was certain that the duke would now say what he had told her in the past, that he was not one for dancing. She would be turned down when her mother had so obviously forced him into it.
Let me disappear into the crowd of dancers, gowns and feathers and never be seen again!
Yet such a prayer was not answered.
“I’d be delighted to dance, Lady Charlotte, if ye are still free for the waltz.”
