CHAPTER ONE

C harlotte sat and wondered how these rooms seemed to grow unbearably stuffy even with the chill outside and less than half of the usual attendees.

Christmas in Town was by no means as grand an affair, even less so when she was a social pariah. Despite the last few years of attending gatherings and being the cut direct, not receiving vouchers to Almack’s despite Mama’s desperation for them, receiving no callers and being received in no drawing rooms, her poor mother still insisted on dragging her to every conceivable social event, few though they may be.

In truth, things had improved greatly since Jane’s scandal broke that dreadful spring. They had gone from absolute outcasts who’d been shunned by everyone they’d ever known to being thrown a sympathy invitation to the occasional soiree or party.

This, she had found over time, tended to be doubly true during winter, when most of the Quality had returned to their country seats. Charlotte desperately wished to do to the same. She was so much more comfortable in the manor house they’d hidden in when they’d become persona non-grate among the ton.

But a year after Jane had absconded and broken her engagement with the baron, a duke’s daughter had married a reverend and had set the ton on its head so much that Mama had felt it safe to risk coming back to London. She’d been both right and wrong. Right, because the duke’s daughter had caused enough of a kerfuffle to make it safe for them to return. Wrong because returning was not the same as being welcomed. And Mama was still unable to come to terms with the very clear, very uncomfortable difference.

Which was why Charlotte was dragged along to every single event Mama managed to scrounge an invitation to. No matter how dull. No matter how boring. If someone took pity, or Mama called in a favor from years gone by, and a card was delivered, Charlotte would be in attendance.

That’s why she found herself sitting her against the wall, being ignored by almost everyone, and wishing that she’d flouted Mama’s wishes and joined Jane and her husband for the winter when offered.

Mama was in an odd state of delusion. She really seemed to think that if Charlotte just showed up to enough of these embarrassing events, she’d land herself a husband of Quality and all would be forgiven. The Tinsley name would be restored, and people would pardon Jane for having the unmitigated audacity to marry a man she loved.

To be fair to Mama, though, there was a certain method to her madness. For example, people actually greeted Charlotte now. Stiffly and not exactly in a friendly manner, but they almost acknowledged her existence. That was a definite improvement on how things had been last year.

She wasn’t exactly welcomed into the ladies’ little cozes, and no gentlemen called with hot-house bouquets and requests to court her. But she was here. And that would have to do. Besides, being ignored was far superior to what would inevitably happen later in the evening when the gentlemen began to get foxed. They would seek her out, deciding that because she was an unwanted wallflower, one of few since Town wasn’t overflowing as it was in the Season, that she was free to be used and insulted. They would say inappropriate things and try to coax her away. They would offer her carte blanche and tell her she was far too pretty not to be enjoyed.

Most of the time, she was able to send them off with a few well-placed insults. A time or two, it took a good stomp to the foot. Once, she’d had to upend a glass of punch on a fellow. Mama had been furious, worried the incident would set them back. Charlotte had hoped it would. Alas, since people usually tried to ignore her existence, nobody had seen her, and their family’s reputation was free to limp on and try to live another day.

It was all utterly tiresome. And because it was so tiresome, Charlotte had developed her own methods of entertainment. She allowed herself an infinitesimal, secret smile as she remembered Mrs. Pottering’s musicale last month when she’d first started her schemes, when two not-so-pleasant young ladies had blatantly talked ill of her, sniggering behind their fans and accidentally-on-purpose standing on her gown. So, when the opportunity arose, she’d escaped into Mrs. Pottering’s Garden. Though the spring and summer months were better for insects, she hadn’t fared too badly and had taken great joy in subtly planting a spider on one lady’s shoulder and onto the saucer of another’s teacup.

Their screeches had been loud enough to wake the dead, and Charlotte had found herself almost enjoying the evening. Ever since then, she’d done what little mischievous thing she could to keep herself occupied, whether that be sneaking off to Lord Halper’s library and rearranging his books after he’d drunkenly lurched at her outside the ladies’ retiring room at his party, calling her a ‘waste of good flesh’ or sending Lady Wimple’s carriage home under the guise of the driver needing to collect the woman’s daughter after she’d said Charlotte should be ashamed of her ‘strumpet sister’.

The room was filling, the chairs around Charlotte were staying empty, and her boredom was increasing steadily. Mama had ensconced herself in the corner with the same vicious gossipers that had cruelly given her the cut when news of Jane’s marriage had broken. But she would happily sit at their feet begging for crumbs if it meant she weren’t shunned.

Papa rarely attended events with them, preferring to hole up in one of his clubs or in his office. Tonight, he had come but had disappeared into the gaming room the second they’d arrived.

And suddenly, Charlotte was fed up of it all. The loneliness, the shame that wasn’t hers but had somehow landed upon her shoulders, the hypocrisy of the beau monde. She had trained her whole life to enter this glittering world, and when they’d turned their backs on her, she hadn’t been allowed to turn up her nose at them and walk away. No, instead, she was forced to sit here ignored and alone whilst they judged her for a crime that wasn’t hers. And frankly, it wasn’t Jane’s either. Jane’s behavior had been no worse than anyone else’s. Decidedly better, in fact. The difference being, of course, that Jane had committed the egregious mistake of being found out.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes as she took them all in. Lady Marcastle, who’d refused to see Mama but who had been having a torrid affair with one of her footmen for the last three years. Sir Basil who had had more children born on the wrong side of the blanket than anyone else in the ton.

Mrs. Dolton, whose husband had spent her fortune and then locked her away in the countryside so he could diddle his maids freely but who arrived in Town every once in a while to pretend that her life was wonderful and to have as many assignations as she could manage in a short space of time.

Every one of them had acted as though the Tinsley family were lepers. Every one of them behaved in far worse ways than she ever had or would.

She was feeling antsy and a little petulant. Enough that she was contemplating risking Mama’s ire by asking to return home early. But before she could make a move, the seats beside her were suddenly occupied by two rather unhappy-looking young ladies.

“Did you see that odious prat, Mr. Egerton, trying to accost me in the hallway, Harriet? How can you possibly be complaining when I was attacked so?”

“Oh, do be serious, Joanna,” came the jaded reply. “That is nowhere near as bad as being asked to go driving with Lord Pruitt. The man tried to request to call on me at four o’clock, and he had to use his fingers to count the time.”

Charlotte couldn’t help it. She laughed aloud at the idea of the hapless viscount and at the girl’s obvious disgust.

Her outburst had two sets of identical grey-blue eyes flying toward her, and she squirmed a little in her seat. “My apologies,” she mumbled, just waiting for the usual recognition followed by either disdain or, worse, pity to stamp their matching features.

One of the girls, Joanna, smiled at her. “No apologies necessary,” she said dryly. “I assume you are familiar with the viscount? So, you know I am not even exaggerating. Which is altogether too tragic.”

“I am acquainted with the viscount,” Charlotte confirmed. “Not well acquainted, but as much as I want to be.”

This earned her matching giggles as the twins, for they absolutely had to be twins, nodded to each other as if to say their feelings matched her own. “Lord, they are a dreary lot,” the other girl, Harriet, sighed. “Jasper insisted that we attend some events this winter before we are presented officially next spring.”

“Well,” Joanna interjected, “what he actually said was that we were so feral he wanted to test us out where the least amount of damage would be done before we land him in Bedlam. But Harry here does like to put a good spin on things.”

“Hmm, and Jo here has been the source of most of his ire, yet we both have to suffer the consequences.”

Charlotte grinned at the bickering siblings, immediately liking them and their frankness. It was in short supply among the ton.

“The problem,” Miss Joanna continued as though Charlotte was a bosom friend and not a complete stranger, “is that he keeps bringing us around these people.” She waved a fan toward the milling crowds. “Who are either the most boring women in Christendom.”

“Or the most detestable men,” Miss Harriet tacked on. “Not you, though,” she supplied with a smile.

“Yes, you seem quite lovely.” The sisters spoke as though they shared a singular stream of consciousness. It was a little chaotic but terribly diverting, and Charlotte’s mood lifted for the first time in months. “Uncommonly pretty.”

“Indeed. I am quite envious of your beauty.”

“But it does beg the question as to why you’re sitting by the wall all by yourself.”

“It does. Because if we haven’t been able to escape the great big oafs, you certainly shouldn’t be able to.”

Charlotte felt her head spin a little trying to keep up with the speed of the sisters’ chatter. “Um,” she started, not entirely sure what to say, how honest to be or, frankly, who these ladies even were. “My family aren’t exactly in the good graces of the ton,” she blurted for lack of anything else to say.

The twins’ eyes widened. “Ooh, how fabulous. Do tell us more.”

Charlotte laughed. It was refreshing to have someone still want to talk to her and not run as though scandal was catching. “Please tell us you were caught in a deliciously improper embrace with a duke or something.”

“Yes, it’s my raison d’etre to be improper with a duke. No, a handsome European prince! That’s much better.”

“Oh, well. No, it wasn’t me. My sister ended an understanding with a gentleman, and she is now wed to another. It was a while ago, but people have long memories, it seems.”

The sisters shared a look of disgust, and Charlotte felt her stomach sink. She awaited the usual distancing, the whispering, the sniffs of disdain. But then, they turned back to her once again.

“Is that all?”

“How dreadfully dull.”

“Do you mean to tell us that you didn’t even get to enjoy your own scandal?”

Charlotte’s swift relief was followed by a bizarre need to champion her family’s ruin. “Well, she was with child,” she said a little defensively. “By her current husband. So, you can imagine.”

“Hmm. That’s something, I suppose,” Joanna said begrudgingly.

“Still not terribly entertaining, but a decent effort.”

“But it hardly seems fair that you’re stuck being a wallflower now because your sister married someone she chose instead of someone chosen for you.”

No, it wasn’t fair. But Charlotte had learned in the most brutal fashion that the ton was anything but fair. She’d become resigned to it. “I don’t care to be included by them anyway,” she uttered, ignoring the familiar sting. She didn’t care to be included; that much was true. But the exclusion did still rankle. More so when she was dragged to these affairs and left in misery while Mama prostrated herself at the feet of the ton matriarchs.

“Well, neither do we, but here we are. Stuck. And – oh, no. No, no, no. Lord Sweaty has tracked me down. Look.”

The three ladies looked at once, and sure enough, stumbling toward them, face round and puce, was Lord Pruitt. “He’s desperate to get into Jasper’s good graces; that’s the problem.”

“That’s not all he’s desperate to get into.” The outrageous comment set the twins giggling, and Charlotte decided that she liked them very much. And because she liked them and because they actually treated her like a human being, she decided to help.

“I’ve already checked,” she whispered. “There are a few unlocked doors on this corridor. One of which leads to the study. And the study leads to the grounds outside. If one wanted to, one could probably hide out there for hours.”

The sisters grinned at her like she was a genie who’d granted their dearest wishes. “Come on, then,” Harriet whispered. “Let’s go.”

They stood and gazed down at her expectantly. And Charlotte knew that she should just let the girls go and sit here politely lest Mama deign to check on her. But this was the first time in so long that she hadn’t felt lonely. That she actually enjoyed herself in company. That she might even have made friends. So, without a backward glance, she darted into the hallway with the twins following her lead.

***

“W e should probably introduce ourselves properly.”

Charlotte closed the study door gently once she’d ushered the sisters in.

“I am Lady Harriet, and this is my twin sister, Lady Joanna. Our brother is Jasper Harring, Earl of Fenwick.”

“Charlotte Forrester,” she answered with a quick curtsy. “My father is the Honorable Mr. James Forrester, second son of the Earl of Shelton.”

“And sister of the wonderfully scandalous?”

Charlotte laughed at Lady Joanna’s fishing. “Mrs. Jane Smithson.”

“I shall keep an eye out for your sister,” Joanna said stoutly. “And tell her that I think she’s marvelous. Now, do show us to the gardens, dear Charlotte. Once Jasper sees we’re missing, he’ll come in search of us. Here’s hoping there’s a tree or a well-placed bush we can hide in.”

“Here.” Charlotte guided them to the French windows, which were currently covered by thick brocade curtains. “Is he very strict, your brother?” she asked as she pulled back the heavy material of the curtains.

“He wasn’t,” Lady Harriet sighed. “He used to be such fun. But when our father died and he became the earl, he changed. Suddenly, he was on and on about propriety, ladylike behavior, and good matches, for heaven’s sake. Tis bad enough that we hear such drivel from our mother. But Jasper, too?”

“I believe it’s because Mama has been positively hounding him about doing his duty and getting married. He thinks if he can marry us off instead, she’ll stop pestering him.”

“I daresay it’s worked, too. Ever since he gave Mama free rein over his funds for our Come Out next year, she’s been positively giddy.”

Charlotte could well remember her own Mama’s behavior before Jane’s incident. It was remarkably similar. The window was stiff, and for a moment, Charlotte worried that it had been locked since she’d discovered it on arrival. But no, it gave a little, and she realized it was just terribly stiff. “All mothers are the same, it seems,” she said while pushing against the door with her hip.

“Should we just barricade ourselves in here?” she asked after another failed attempt at opening the door. She didn’t particularly fancy going back out there to be treated like a leper for the rest of the evening. She’d much rather hide away in here with the twins and actually enjoy herself for once.

“No, we can’t,” Lady Joanna answered glumly. “Jasper would find a way in.”

“He’d probably break the door down,” Lady Harriet confirmed.

“He sounds like a monster,” Charlotte said before she could think better of it.

“Oh, no. Not at all.”

“No, he’s not ill-tempered or anything.”

“Yes, it’s just that he seems to have turned into a scolding governess quite overnight.”

“But he’s not monstrous.”

“Monstrously strict, perhaps. Since he became the earl.”

Charlotte decided to just take their word for it. “Right, come along then. I can’t get this door open by myself, but perhaps we can all push against it?”

The twins dutifully took up positions at the door with Charlotte, being taller, standing behind them.

“The stairs are to the left. Be careful not to be seen going by the ballroom. Ready? On my count,” she said. “One, two, three, push. ”

It worked! The door gave way, and the twins spilled out onto the patio with matching squeals. Charlotte just managed to catch herself from tumbling onto the ground by grabbing the door frame. She lifted her skirts and made to hurry after her newfound friends when the study door slammed open, and a deep, extremely unhappy, masculine voice echoed around the room.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Well. Drat.