Waltzing With The Earl. Catherine Tinley

had quickened. ‘I do not know—nor do I wish to know—what customs prevail in Spain, or France, or any other heathen, uncivilised place, but in London you would do well to avoid seeming fast.’

      Charlotte raised her eyebrows, but answered calmly. ‘My dear Henrietta, I appreciate your concern, but I was very properly accompanied by my groom, so I believe my reputation is intact.’

      ‘Your—your groom?’ Henrietta’s mouth opened, then closed again. ‘I—I see. I did not know...’

      Her eyes darted around the room as she searched for something to say.

      ‘Hrmmph! Well, on this occasion—with your groom—you may have managed to stay on the right side of acceptable maidenly behaviour... But you know I am only trying to help you.’

      She smiled weakly, but her eyes told a different story.

      Charlotte moved away, placing her hat upon an ornate side table. Her hand shook a little. There was no point in arguing with Henrietta—much as she longed to do so.

      ‘The gentlemen were most disappointed you did not ride today.’

      ‘They were? What did he—they—say? Did he—they—mention me?’ Henrietta’s voice was small.

      ‘The Earl talked about his sister, Olivia. He hopes for female companionship for her, I think.’

      Mrs Buxted, who had held her tongue during Henrietta’s outburst, spoke dispassionately to her elder daughter. ‘My love, you must befriend the sister. And you should have gone riding today. But there is no need to worry about competition from your cousin.’

      Charlotte blinked. She knew—and did not mind—that Henrietta was the prettiest young lady in the household. Her golden hair and deep blue eyes captivated attention wherever they went. Strangers sometimes turned their heads in the street when Henrietta passed by. At present, though, her cousin’s beauty was somewhat marred by her petulant expression. And for Aunt Buxted to speak so plainly was, Charlotte thought, unnecessary—though hardly surprising.

      ‘I will certainly go next time.’ Mollified, Henrietta patted her side-curls, eyeing Charlotte’s fashionable habit. ‘I need a new habit from Milton’s, Mama. Can they make it up in a week?’

      ‘I’m sure they can, if I require it. We shall go tomorrow.’

      ‘Mama,’ said Faith tentatively, ‘you said I was to get a new habit, for my old one is now a little too small. Should I go with Henrietta?’

      ‘No, I do not want her distracting them. My habit must be perfect!’ said Henrietta.

      ‘But, Mama—’

      ‘Don’t listen to her, Mama. I missed the ride today and everything. I must have a perfect habit!’

      ‘I will take you another time, Faith.’

      ‘Yes, Mama,’ Faith submitted, though her voice trembled a little.

      Charlotte threw her a sympathetic look.

      ‘Did you arrange to ride with them again?’ Henrietta asked Charlotte sharply, oblivious to her sister’s disappointment.

      ‘Yes—next Tuesday morning. I said I hoped you would both also ride then.’

      ‘Well, at least you did something right.’ Henrietta was back at the glass, turning her head this way and that, preening slightly. ‘And we shall see them at Lady Cowper’s ball on Friday. Oh, but of course—you can’t come, Charlotte.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘What a pity you have not been presented at Court. You miss all the most exciting parties! It must be so dull—being limited to small gatherings. No routs, no balls, no Almack’s.’

      ‘Oh, it is perfectly fine.’ Charlotte smiled through gritted teeth. ‘I have much to amuse myself with. I shall probably write another letter to Papa.’

      ‘Yes, and so you should. One must know one’s duty.’

      ‘I do—though it is not duty that makes me wish to write to my father. We are good friends.’

      ‘Friends? With your father? How strange.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘You know, Charlotte, you really should change. You smell of horse.’

      ‘Er...yes, thank you, Henrietta.’ Charlotte refrained from reminding her cousin that she had intercepted her and delayed her from changing. She picked up her hat again.

      ‘Oh, I do try to be helpful to people when I can,’ said Henrietta, with a little flutter of her hand. ‘Mama says it is helpful to point out people’s flaws, so they may correct them.’

      Mrs Buxted nodded approvingly. ‘You have learned well, Henrietta. It is not enough to be virtuous oneself. One must also help others where one can. Charlotte, you would do well to take Henrietta as your pattern card. She is a perfect example of a well-brought up noble lady.’

      ‘I shall certainly observe her closely, Aunt Buxted.’

      Charlotte left the room quickly, her fists clenched and her heart beating hard. Oh, Henrietta and Aunt Buxted were infuriating!

       Chapter Four

      Dinner on Friday—the evening of Lady Cowper’s ball—was a trial. Aunt Buxted had invited the Fanton brothers, as well as her godson, Mr Foxley, to dine with them, though Henrietta had complained at length about Mr Foxley’s presence.

      ‘I know he is your godson, Mama, and his mother was your old school friend, but he is dull and clumsy and cannot make interesting conversation. And besides, he is only a second son, with no great fortune.’

      ‘Captain Fanton is a second son, but you like him well enough.’ The quiet Faith, for once, was inspired to challenge her sister.

      Bravissima! thought Charlotte. Good for you, Faith.

      ‘Yes, though not as well as his brother. The Captain will do well for you, Faith, if you can secure him. Besides, he is a Fanton. Mr Foxley is a—a nobody.’

      Mrs Buxted intervened. ‘Yes, my love, but he is a well-mannered gentleman, and since we have Charlotte we will need another gentleman to make up the numbers.’

      Henrietta threw Charlotte a resentful look. ‘Perhaps Charlotte would prefer to eat something in her room. After all, she is not even going to the ball.’

      Into the silence that followed Charlotte said quietly, ‘I would be quite happy to have a meal alone on Friday, ma’am. I should not wish to cause inconvenience.’

      Mrs Buxted turned a page in her fashion journal.

      ‘Mama—’ Faith spoke up, distressed. ‘You cannot send Charlotte to her room. Why, she is a guest!’

      ‘I shall do no such thing, Faith. I know my duty to my guest.’ She thought for a moment, then looked at her elder daughter. ‘Henrietta, when you are mistress of Chadcombe there will be times when you will be forced to entertain unwanted guests, or have people to stay or to dine against your wishes. You will at all times conduct yourself with dignity, and do your duty to your husband and your name.’

      ‘My husband!’ breathed Henrietta. She considered this. ‘As you say, Mama, I will have many such trials to endure when I am a married lady—a countess. Charlotte may come to dinner.’

      Charlotte—with great difficulty—said nothing. It was becoming daily more challenging to survive the barbs thrown at her. She knew that Henrietta would like nothing more than for her to retaliate, as this would expose Charlotte to Aunt Buxted’s wrath.

      Behind Henrietta, Faith held her face in her hands, shaking her head. Charlotte, remembering something she needed from her room, excused herself and left. Really, it was becoming harder and harder to bite her tongue.

      The invitations were delivered, the acceptances received, and the menu planned. They