"Every one of them is worthy and wonderful." Charlotte could only manage to say good things about their gentlemen visitors ... or about anyone, truth be told.
"I would expect to hear nothing less from you, my dear Charlotte." The Duke turned to his youngest. "What say you, Muriel?"
Muriel glanced at her sister before giving an opinion. "There has never been such a gathering of suitors. Not since Augusta's party, but you must multiply their number by three."
"After receiving Mrs. Parker's missive I did notice the lack of young men in Town. I believe she was correct deciding you should remain in the country." The Duke shrugged and exhaled. "What is the use of going to Town if half its inhabitants are here? Just before I left, I heard many more were planning to vacate, to the dismay of the Almack's Patronesses."
"Lord and Lady Hopkins plan a ball for their daughter Lady Margaret tomorrow night," Charlotte informed him.
"I've heard they have invited many families to stay with them, simply switching the venue from their townhouse in London to their country house." The Duke glanced thoughtfully at his daughters. "Shall we open Faraday Hall and invite house guests as well?"
Muriel wished Aunt Penny were present to help make the decisions. "We do not have as many distractions here in Essex as they have in Town," she said. "I think we have more than enough to do, planning entertainment every afternoon for this last week and who knows for how much longer."
"Not only is Sir Samuel here, but we also have Sir Philip staying with us," Charlotte quickly added. "He resides in the Gold Suite until his curricle is repaired."
"Who is this Sir Philip?" The Duke looked up from his desk.
Charlotte brightened and answered, "Sir Philip Somerville met with some misfortune a few days ago while traveling the roads not far from here. With so many other visitors making Bloxwich their residence, the poor man had no choice but to invite himself to remain with us. I shall introduce you at supper."
"I see." Their father's interest waned and he rubbed his eyes. He also looked fatigued after the day's travel. "I cannot say if I will dine with you tonight."
"Then you shall make his acquaintance in the morning," Charlotte promised.
"Yes," Muriel agreed, trying to keep her distaste for their guest to herself. "His presence seems quite unavoidable."
Everyone gathered in the Blue Parlor after the dinner gong had sounded. The Duke, as he had predicted, was noticeably absent.
"I had looked forward to meeting His Grace." Sir Philip stood near the center of the room and spoke to no one in particular.
Muriel noticed his black dinner jacket and creamcolored knee breeches. Was it possible they came from that very small leather trunk of his? How many items of clothing could that thing hold?
"Just as he wished to make your acquaintance, I'm sure," Charlotte returned, blinking wide-eyed at the baronet.
"Will you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you into the Dining Room, Lady Charlotte?" Sir Samuel pivoted from Muriel to Charlotte and stepped toward her.
"I had wished to have that honor," the taller, fair-haired Sir Philip remarked.
"Is that so?" Sir Samuel replied, but not in any threatening manner.
"I'm sure we can settle this matter like civilized gentlemen," Sir Philip said, moving toward Charlotte.
"You're not speaking of crossing swords, are you?" Sir Samuel glanced at the ladies. "Before partaking our evening meal?"
"Of course not. I abhor violence." Sir Philip stood his ground, but did not bully the young Sir Samuel.
Muriel could not deny he was a man after her sister's own heart. Charlotte blinked up at Sir Philip. Was Charlotte thinking he was the most perfect man for her? Muriel wondered.
"Ah, perhaps we should see who has the most intricately tied cravat?" Sir Samuel suggested.
"Nonsense," Sir Philip said, stepping back and sweeping his hand toward Charlotte. "We shall allow the lady to decide between us."
Charlotte blushed. Her smile widened for Sir Samuel, knowing full well, as Muriel had, he would be all that was understanding and allow her to choose Sir Philip over him for her escort.
"Sir Philip." Charlotte held out her hand, waiting for him to respond.
"I am greatly honored." Sir Philip bowed at the waist before offering his arm.
"I suppose you are left with me to lead you in to dinner," Sir Samuel said to Muriel, and glanced about. "What of Mrs. Parker, will she not be joining us at the table?"
Muriel could not be happier to be left in the care of Sir Samuel. "My aunt should arrive shortly. I cannot imagine what is keeping her."
Aunt Penny entered the Blue Parlor only moments later and Sir Samuel escorted both ladies into the Dining Room.
Following their meal, the women prepared to leave the two men to their port. Aunt Penny instructed the girls to remove to the Citrus Parlor, while she excused herself, saying she needed to speak to the Duke. Sir Philip and Sir Samuel claimed they had no wish to remain without the ladies. In truth, Muriel suspected, the gentlemen probably did not wish to be alone with each other.
Sir Samuel offered Muriel his arm to escort her to the Citrus Parlor, and Sir Philip, escorting Charlotte, followed directly.
As much as Muriel loathed to leave Charlotte to Sir Philip's attention, her conversation with Sir Samuel could not be delayed any longer. She led him to the far side of the room so as not to be disturbed.
Charlotte settled at one end of the green-leaf-patterned sofa just inside the room. She removed her gloves and retrieved her embroidery hoop from the basket. To her delight, Sir Philip joined her, occupying the other end of the sofa. She attempted to keep her focus upon the needlework before her and soon detected Sir Philip studying the stitches. Charlotte turned her hoop, allowing him an unobstructed view.
"Somehow I thought your work depicted some sort of animal." A most quizzical expression crossed his face. "A dog, perhaps?"
Did the simple wildflowers not please him? Had he wished she had chosen to portray a hunt or a woodland scene with wildlife?
"No, I- Oh!" Charlotte knew exactly to what he referred. "Muriel is working on a depiction of Romulus and Remus with the nurturing Lupa-she's a wolf. Perhaps that is what you saw?"
"I suppose that might have been," he replied.
Charlotte glanced at the basket that held their evening occupation. She could not imagine how he should come to have seen her sister's hoop instead of her own.
He gazed upon her work again, only now he seemed more pleased at what he saw. Charlotte read the admiration in his eyes, the first sign of affection for her, perhaps. She hoped.
"No, matter," said Sir Philip, handing back her hoop and taking her hand in his, hesitant to release his hold. The feel of his gloved hand on her bare skin made her feel quite light-headed.
"I feel your pulse racing," he said.
It was. A flush of warmth crept up her neck to her cheeks when she realized something had altered between them. Indeed, there was a complete difference in the way Sir Philip addressed her this evening.
Perhaps it was her imagination. Had she dreamed he pressed her hand as well? And the spark of interest she thought she had detected in his eyes? Charlotte thought not.
If her last breath were to be exhaled at that moment, she would have no complaints. If she were to expire on this very spot, Charlotte was certain she would head straight for heaven.
Charlotte had sat before her dressing table the next evening and endured the hair tongs and styling for nearly two hours. Now she stood in the center of her room and waited for Lydia to return.
The abigail helped Charlotte dress, tying the many tapes to secure her gown in place.
"I cannot tell you how fortunate it is that everyone has taken the afternoon to prepare for the Hopkins' ball tonight," Charlotte said, remaining still while Lydia moved from one side to the other. "I do not think I could have managed to entertain callers and attend the dance this evening."
"I imagine everyone is anxious for to
night's festivities," said Lydia, as she tucked the excess length of the tapes into the gown, shielding them from view.
"Do you expect he'll think me pretty tonight?" Charlotte peered over her shoulder at the full-length mirror. An unfinished work of art, she regarded herself in the glass, imagining her overall impression in the near-white gown.
A soft, sky blue color would have been more flattering. However, all her new gowns were some variation of white, for that was what young ladies attending their first Season wore, and that is what had been ordered with the exception of only a few other colors.
Lydia smiled, wide-eyed, admiring the young mistress. "I cannot imagine a gentleman who would not notice you, Lady Charlotte. I 'spect you know that already."
"I would never make such a presumption. I don't expect anyone would find me that attractive."
Charlotte had been reminded of her beauty all her life. Truth be told, she found this talk about her outward appearance very superficial. Everyone knew her to possess great beauty, and she would do what she could to fulfill their expectations. But, she wondered, what of her hopes for this evening?
Would she manage to dance with every man she wished? Then Charlotte thought of Sir Philip-the only man she truly wished to share a dance with. Even though he did not stand with her suitors, and had not made demands upon her time, could she, in good conscience, consider reserving a dance for him? He might not even ask her tonight. Oh, that was a sad thought.
"Who is it you wish to take particular notice?" Muriel announced her presence with her question, peering around the bedchamber door. "Aunt Penny is asking for you, Lydia. I'll finish pinning Char-Char's dress."
"Thank you, m'lady." After an uneasy glance, the abigail quit the room.
Muriel, who had finished her toilette, collected some straight pins and moved to her sister's side to complete the work Lydia had started. "I had not thought you preferred any one of your suitors over another."
Charlotte had the distinct impression Muriel would not approve of the gentleman she held in particular regard and was hesitant to name him.
When Muriel tugged at the bodice edges, pulling them closer, Charlotte cried out, "Take care, will you, Moo?"
"You wouldn't be thinking of a man such as Sir Philip, perhaps?" Muriel's accusing stare was leveled over Charlotte's shoulder in the mirror.
"A man such as Sir Philip?" Charlotte wished to know exactly what her sister had meant.
"Do you think that sort of man cares a whit about the appearance of anyone except himself?" Muriel's gaze moved down to her hands, busy pinning the edge of Charlotte's garment. "Honestly, Char-Char, I'm quite convinced his only concern is the cut of his coat and the fit of his trousers."
Charlotte could not fault him for his attention to his appearance. It must take quite a bit of effort to maintain his image. He traveled without a valet and with limited apparel, no more than could fit in a bandbox.
"I imagine if he truly cared for me," she uttered, "I would be cherished above his starched creations."
"Char-Char, you are hopeless!"
"Why do you have such a low opinion of him?" A second yank to her midsection made Charlotte cry out. "Moo! Why are you pulling so tight? Are you certain you know what you are doing?"
Muriel glanced at her sister's reflection with a mischievous glimmer in her eye. "Never fear, Char-Char, I know exactly what I'm doing."
"One might think you were purposely causing me discomfort!" Charlotte tried to catch her breath.
"Of course not," Muriel denied, as if it were the most absurd accusation. "That you should compare yourself to an item of clothing is ridiculous. What makes you sure he is a man who could care for you-for yourselfjust as your other suitors?"
Charlotte did her best to remain as still as possible. She did not wish to encourage her sister to mistakenly place a straight pin into her side. "He makes every effort to look his best. There is nothing wrong with that. Is that not what I am doing this very minute?"
"And with good reason. You have a great many men dangling after you," Muriel reminded her. "I should think they would take precedence over our unexpected houseguest, who only came upon us by pure chance."
Muriel did have a point. Beyond Charlotte's idyllic musings that he might be interested in her, he had not clearly shown any sign of forming an attachment.
"That should be adequate." Muriel admired her work and stepped back from Charlotte. "I would be quite shocked to learn that he actually cares for anyone other than himself. I do not believe he has shown the least interest in becoming one of your suitors."
That much was true. None of Charlotte's hopeful thoughts or overly optimistic wishes could change Sir Philip's intentions toward her. She would just have to admit he did not think of her as anything other than the daughter of his host.
Muriel sat anxiously in the carriage during the halfhour drive to The Acorns. Once they arrived, Charlotte might find it difficult or nearly impossible to remove herself from the squabs. It wasn't the number of straight pins Muriel used to fasten her sister's dress but the direction in which she lined the pins, or rather, the sharp ends.
Muriel had placed the needle-sharp ends facing outward in various seams. She did this to protect her sister from any dancing partner who moved too close to her or who came into contact with any of those restricted areas.
The Duke of Faraday stepped into the foyer followed by his two daughters and their aunt. The Duke had relinquished his hat, cape, and cane. He now stood with some other gentlemen acquaintances while waiting for the remainder of his party.
Muriel unfastened the clasp at the neck of Charlotte's mantle, while Charlotte's cloak seemed to have snagged upon the shoulder of her gown.
"I think one of my pins must have caught on the lining." Charlotte turned to inspect her garment.
Muriel moved very quickly, tossing off her outerwear, and rushed to her sister's side. "Allow me to check." She moved Charlotte's hands aside and made a thorough inspection. "Never fear, everything is as it should be."
"Let us move along, girls," Aunt Penny urged her nieces, guiding them from the foyer toward the ballroom. They waited at the door until they were announced.
Muriel admired her sister under the light of the sparkling crystal chandeliers. The soft white silk of her dress with the slight hint of pink accentuated the attractive blush upon her cheeks and brought out the clear, bright blue of her wide eyes.
"I do beg your pardon, Aunt Penny." Muriel had backed into her aunt while stepping out of the way of a half dozen young bucks who dashed toward her sister. "I wonder which lucky man will partner Char-Char for the first dance?"
"I believe it should prove very interesting," said Aunt Penny, paying rapt attention to the interactions around her.
Across the room, Muriel spied Sir Philip in conversation with several men. A few of them were Charlotte's suitors, but apparently not as ardent as the ones who had just nearly trampled her in their pursuit of her sister.
Although Muriel did not stand among them, she was privy to their conversation. She watched them carefully as they spoke, observing their every word, or nearly so.
"I am not convinced these tales are true," Sir Philip told them, tapping his quizzing glass on his cheek.
"I cannot verify the tale to be true, but I have heard it said she suffers from weak eyes," Lord Oscar told them.
"Weak? She cannot see beyond her fingertips!" a gentleman sporting a violet waistcoat nearly matching the color of his blackened eye announced.
"I have heard it is only one of many afflictions," Sir Hugh Linville corrected. "I do not find it disturbing in the least. Hardly noticeable, I say."
"Hardly noticeable?" Local gentry Mr. Lawrence balked at the baronet's words. "The eye is glass, pure and simple. If you were to gaze into them both, one could clearly see the difference. The right eye, although a most beautiful but not at all realistic color, does not by half match the true blue hue of her left!"
"Most gents seem to agree com
pletely!" The speaker gestured to those gentlemen standing across the room surrounding Charlotte, trying to secure a dance.
"It don't matter," said Sir Hugh. "The girl's simply a vision. What does it matter if she-" He now had his back to Muriel, causing her to miss what he said next.
"What about her hearing?" the man with the violet waistcoat put forward for discussion.
"Hearing? She's hardly deaf, my man." Sir Hugh came to Charlotte's defense yet again. "She merely has difficulty with her hearing in her left ear."
"If any one of these other lovely young ladies happened to suffer the same ailment, I warrant they'd rather breathe their last than make that confession, don't you know."
Sir Philip did not appear shocked at the news, keeping his facade impassive. At least word of Charlotte's infirmities had finally made their way to him.
"Lady Muriel." Sir Samuel, who stood before her, having called her name once, spoke louder. "You are quite beautiful this evening. I daresay when it is time for your come-out, you shall cause as much of a stir as your sisters."
"There is no need to waste such a heartfelt compliment on me, Sir Samuel," Muriel scolded him, albeit playfully.
"Acknowledging beauty is never wasted." A bow of his head conveyed his sincerity. "Would you honor me with the first dance?"
"It is nothing personal, my dear friend. I confess there must be some young lady who would actually enjoy dancing, especially with you."
Their hostess, Lady Hopkins, followed by two young ladies, approached. The three of them eyed Sir Samuel with more than casual interest. Muriel took a half-step forward, shielding him from their prying gazes.
"Allow me to make known to you my daughter Margaret's very good friends from Town," Lady Hopkins began.
Perfectly Flawed Page 9