Chapter Three

The next day, as Lady Rose and Charlotte sat in the drawing room, Evans arrived and lowered a silver tray before his mistress.

"A letter has arrived for you, m'lady."

Charlotte put down her copy of Pride and Prejudice and watched as her mother opened the envelope, extracted the letter, and read.

"It's from Mrs. Warsham." Lady Rose lowered the letter. "She wants to meet this afternoon."

"Already? I wasn't aware you'd written to her yet," Charlotte said.

"I haven't. In fact, I was just sitting here contemplating what to say in my letter to her when this arrived."

"Well, that's a good thing. It means she must be having the same thoughts as you," Charlotte said. "If the men are too stubborn to talk to each other and end this pointless feud, then the women must, just as Dr. Warren suggested."

"Yes." Lady Rose frowned at the letter. "It's time we took control."

"What is it, Mama? You look perturbed. Is there something else?"

"Only that the meeting place she has suggested is somewhat odd. The address is Cleveland Row, and it belongs to a woman who runs a notorious gaming den."

Charlotte blinked. "I don't understand. Why would Mrs. Warsham expect you to agree to meet at a gaming den?"

"She says that the owner, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, is an old acquaintance of hers, and I expect Mrs. Warsham would like her to act as some sort of advisor. She asserts that Mrs. Dove-Lyon is a highly respected and clever woman who has helped her with a problem before."

"This all sounds very confusing, Mama. But I intend to come with you and find out what it is all about."

"I won't take you to a gaming den, Charlotte. If someone sees us, it could ruin your reputation before the season even begins."

"Then we shall have to make sure no one sees us. We'll take an unmarked carriage and cover our faces with veils—as though we were two women in mourning." The image made Charlotte shudder, and she regretted her words the minute they'd escaped her lips. She'd painted the precise scenario both she and her mama dreaded and were trying to avoid. The entire point of this meeting was to keep their papa safe and to prevent having to drape themselves in mourning attire. "No, not mourning veils—I don't know why that came to mind. What I mean to say is that it's quite easy to hide one's face behind a pretty bonnet veil. I have a dark green one in my wardrobe, and a deep purple one, too. That should suffice to obscure our features so as not to draw any unwanted attention."

Lady Rose sighed. "I suppose that will have to do. I know full well that I won't be able to dissuade you from coming. You've always been as protective of your papa as he has been of you." She smiled, and Charlotte knew it gave her mama comfort that she cared so deeply about Papa's wellbeing.

"Well—" Lady Rose stood up—"we'd best ready ourselves and go find out how four women can put an end to the madness of two men."

When the carriagerolled to a stop on Cleveland Row, the nerves that had been collecting in Charlotte's insides rose to a crescendo. She told herself that she had no reason to feel anxious; after all, her mama seemed to believe that Mrs. Warsham had called this meeting to help end the feud, not enflame it. Still, Charlotte could not escape the gnawing guilt and worry in the pit of her stomach. What if it all went wrong? What if Papa learned about the meeting and felt doubly betrayed?

As she stepped out of the carriage behind her mother, the door to a waiting carriage opened, and a slender woman, clad in an elegant, pale-green dress and a matching bonnet veil, stepped out and glided toward them.

"Julia, my dear," the woman spoke in a low voice as she reached out and clasped Lady Rose's hands in her own. "It's so lovely to see you again. I thought it best if we all went inside together. But do let's hurry. We don't want to be seen loitering in front of a gaming den." Then she glanced at Charlotte and paused. "Is this—"

"Yes, but let's do our introductions inside," Mama said, glancing around. "As you said, we don't want to be spotted outside a notorious gaming den."

Charlotte couldn't see what all the fuss was about. The neighborhood seemed respectable, and the house itself, painted a pretty pale blue, looked perfectly innocuous. They entered the premises through a small iron gate and Charlotte paused to take in the meticulously kept garden. Tall trees encircled the edges of the small space, giving the property a measure of privacy.

A broad-shouldered, thick-necked footman who greeted them at the door was the first oddity she could notice. He demanded to have their names, speaking in a low growl that brought Cerberus to mind, and Charlotte suspected his purpose was more to guard than it was to greet. After Mrs. Warsham gave their names and confirmed they had an appointment with Mrs. Dove-Lyon, he directed them to a separate entrance—a second oddity—where they were met by a strikingly tall woman who wore her luscious black curls platted and twisted into a chignon and whose dark eyes were framed by thick, black lashes. She seemed to be expecting them and introduced herself as Hermia. They followed her along a hallway, its marble floors covered by a wide runner with an exquisite red and gold design that extended up the mahogany banister staircase. Raucous laughter, music, and noises of merriment reverberated throughout the house but grew distant as they climbed to the second floor. Hermia led them across the landing and stopped in front of a door, which, after knocking, she swung open and announced their arrival most unusually.

"They're here," Hermia said, with shocking informality, and without announcing their names.

The innocuous-looking, pale-blue house had certainly taken a strange turn.

Hermia ushered them inside a large room and then retreated. Charlotte looked to see that it housed a sturdy mahogany desk, a bookcase crammed with all manner of books, and a seating area consisting of a plush, red velvet settee and three matching chairs. A regal-looking woman, clad in a long-sleeved, fitted black dress made from the finest silk and donning a black veil, rose out of her chair from behind her desk and greeted her guests.

Mrs. Warsham and Lady Rose both lifted their veils. Charlotte followed suit, but their hostess kept hers in place.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet us," Mrs. Warsham said.

But Mrs. Dove-Lyon had already turned her attention to Charlotte.

"And who might you be, my dear? The daughter of one of these lovely ladies, no doubt?" The woman's gauzy black veil hid her features, but her voice was confident and firm as though she never doubted herself and checking whether she'd guessed Charlotte's identity correctly or not was an unnecessary courtesy. Charlotte felt a tinge of admiration.

"May I introduce my daughter, Miss Charlotte Rose," Lady Rose said.

"I'm pleased to meet you, ma'am," Charlotte said.

"The Rose of Mayfair." Mrs. Dove-Lyon peered at Charlotte's face. "Lovely," she said. "A true gem. Such beautiful green eyes paired with a pale complexion, and—" she touched a lock of Charlotte's hair—"what an unusual color; it's like the sunrise. A perfect combination. I can see why you earned your moniker. Yet, you remain unmarried."

Charlotte's cheeks heated.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon gestured toward the red sofa, indicating to the three women that they should sit. She then took a seat across from them. "Well, ladies, might I assume this meeting has something to do with Mrs. Warsham's son and this lovely rose?"

Charlotte gasped. What is she talking about?

"I'm not aware of any such discussion." Lady Rose turned the color of snow lilies. "Georgianna said nothing of the sort in her letter to me. All she asked was that we meet, and I only allowed Charlotte to come along because she insisted upon it. As of yet, I have no idea why Georgianna requested that we meet at your establishment."

Mrs. Dove-Lyon raised her eyebrows. "No idea at all?"

"None. All Georgianna said was that the two of you were acquainted and that you are a very clever woman who'd helped her solve a problem once before."

Mrs. Warsham cleared her throat. "Yes, it was many years ago. When Mrs. Dove-Lyon was—"

"We are not here to discuss me or my past." Mrs. Dove-Lyon's voice struck the air with the force of Zeus's thunderbolt.

Mrs. Warsham fell silent.

"Now, how can I be of service, ladies?" Mrs. Dove Lyon dropped the hardness from her tone.

Mrs. Warsham cleared her throat. "You will no doubt have heard that since our return to London, my husband and Sir Benedict are at odds again."

"I did hear about some sort of scuffle at a certain gentleman's club," she said.

"It was more than a scuffle," Lady Rose interjected. "Sir Benedict came home wheezing and clutching his chest. I thought he was going to die right in our drawing room. He's not been in the best health, and the dredging up of an old feud is downright dangerous. I am certain Georgianna is equally as worried for her husband."

"Of course. I am grieved both for the detrimental effect on his health and for the health and happiness of my dear friend Julia and her family. But there's more at stake than that—" she inhaled before continuing—"my son Hugh stands to inherit quite a large fortune from my papa upon his marriage."

"I've heard as much." Mrs. Dove-Lyon leaned forward.

"So, you see, it will not do to have General Warsham running about making enemies of half the men in London when my son needs to find a wife."

"Why do you say, ‘half the men in London'?" Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked. "Isn't this feud strictly between your husband and Sir Benedict?"

"It is now, but do not underestimate the general. He thinks like a military man. He is used to fighting battles with an army, not alone. He will want to mobilize support, which he will find amongst his friends—those retired officers and colonels who served with him—and what now looks like an unpleasant incident could turn into a war with people taking sides and turning against one another."

Charlotte's chest tightened. An escalation of this already horrible situation would be terrible for Papa's health.

Lady Rose straightened her back and said, "That sounds a tad far-fetched."

"I can assure you—" Mrs. Warsham looked from Lady Rose to Charlotte—"it isn't. General Warsham identifies as a soldier. He will never surrender what he sees as a battle. Therefore, it will do us both a world of good to put a stop to this conflict by any means available."

"Just what are you proposing?" Lady Rose asked.

"Isn't it obvious? My son needs a wife, and my husband is going to make that difficult for him. And your daughter needs a husband. She has turned away every eligible bachelor in England. They say that no man will ask for the Rose of Mayfair's hand in marriage for fear of certain rejection."

Is that what people are saying about me?Charlotte glanced at her mother, surprised to see her fiddling with her gloves rather than refuting this claim.

"And even if that proves incorrect, her beauty will not last forever. She will need to pick a husband soon. And what better way is there to bring our two families together than through marriage?"

Charlotte inhaled sharply. Marry the son of Papa's enemy? Never! It will kill him!

"And you want me to facilitate?" Mrs. Dove-Lyon said coolly.

"I do." Mrs. Warsham nodded.

"What say you, Lady Rose?" Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked.

"It would be a shock to Sir Benedict, of course, but he loves his daughter more than his own life. I think if Charlotte were truly happy then he'd put his grudge aside."

Charlotte could not believe her mother was entertaining this mad idea. "It won't work. I couldn't be happy marrying a man I don't know. I have indeed rejected many suitors since my first season," Charlotte said. "But you know it's because I mean to marry for love or not at all."

"I believe we had this conversation, Charlotte. You promised to open your mind and heart to finding love, did you not?"

Charlotte bit her lip. She had indeed made such a promise, not only to her mama but in her prayers as well.

"Many women come to me, and for good reason." Mrs. Dove-Lyon turned to Charlotte. "Because they trust me to help them. If I am to work with you, then you must place your trust in my judgment and expertise. I have facilitated hundreds of matches over the years. Men and women have made me rich for want of my services. I solve problems for people, Miss Rose. Do you want help solving yours?"

Charlotte nodded. She did want help, not only for her papa but also for herself.

"Then you would have no objection to meeting Mr. Hugh Warsham, would you? I can tell you that he is a frequent visitor to my establishment and always conducts himself like an absolute gentleman. Moreover, he is a striking young man, and when news gets out about the fortune he is to inherit, it will make him very eligible this coming season. As I have already stated, I have been successfully bringing people together for many years, and I think you and Mr. Warsham will make an excellent match. Why not take advantage of this offer and get to know the young gentleman in question before the season begins, when you will have to share him with many eager ladies? All you need do is befriend him and see how it unravels from there."

Charlotte hesitated. Mrs. Dove-Lyon's description of Hugh Warsham coincided with what Madam Rouen had said about him. "He's a good sort—a real gentleman," she'd said. Charlotte turned to her mama. "I don't know. It feels as if I'd be betraying Papa, befriending the son of his enemy."

Lady Rose reached for her daughter's hand. "You are only agreeing to meet the young man, and if all goes well, you will be helping, not betraying Papa. Georgianna and I have remained friends despite this feud, and if her Hugh has been graced with any of his mama's fine qualities, then you will be lucky, indeed."

"I can attest that my Hugh has none of his father's stubbornness or love for conflict, but he did inherit the general's strong sense of loyalty to his country and family, and therefore, he will be the most faithful and steadfast of husbands."

"If he is as loyal as you say, he will not want to have anything to do with the daughter of his father's enemy," Charlotte pointed out.

"I said loyal, my dear, not stupid. He agrees this feud is nothing short of ridiculous and will want to spare his papa the unnecessary stress to his health the same way you wish to spare your papa's health."

"But won't General Warsham see his son's friendship with me as a betrayal?" Charlotte continued, still convinced this mad idea would never work. "Aren't you risking their relationship with this scheme?"

"Hugh is our only son and the general's pride and joy. It may take some time, but I know my husband. He is a soldier, but he is no Agamemnon. He will not sacrifice his child to win a war."

"But how will this all work?"

"That's where I come in," Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. "I will, of course, facilitate all your meetings, which must be kept private. We won't want your Sir Benedict or General Warsham getting wind of anything. The people in my establishment understand my rules around discretion. What happens within these walls is strictly between the parties involved and is not shared with anyone else."

Charlotte chewed the inside of her lip. She had to admit this scheme sounded far more exciting than making the rounds at yet another dull season. Besides, this was the only plan they had. And, mad as it seemed, she had to give it a chance. What harm could it do if Papa never found out? At the very least, she would have taken steps to try and end this conflict. And, if by chance they were a good match, then she might indeed find true love and bring their two families together again. "Very well." Charlotte looked at Mrs. Dove-Lyon. "I'll agree to meet Mr. Warsham and see how it all ‘unravels'—as you put it."

"Excellent," Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. "Return this evening and be sure to wear that veil of yours. I have an idea for a game that will work in your favor."

"A game?" Charlotte blurted.

"Of the matchmaking sort. Haven't you heard? I'm quite the expert when it comes to games." She turned and looked at Mrs. Warsham whose cheeks colored, leaving Charlotte wondering what secret the two shared.

"Now ladies," Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, "shall we discuss my fee before you depart?"