An Impulsive Debutante. Michelle Styles

fan against the small table. ‘Is this some new scheme of yours? Why precisely did Mr Shepard join you and my daughter? Had he experienced difficulty with one of his cows? Goodness knows I have tried many topics with Mr Shepard but he always returns to his irksome cattle and their breeding.’

      ‘Our paths crossed,’ Lottie said, trying to forestall more of Frances’s confidences. From the thunderous look on Aunt Alice’s face, she was beginning to think that perhaps she had been mistaken. Perhaps Aunt Alice had not wanted the match for Frances. ‘And I…that is…we suggested that he might like to join us. He appeared quite willing to do so and in a jovial mood.’

      ‘Yes, yes, Carlotta made the suggestion. Mr Shepard is very good at rescuing, Mama.’

      ‘Ah, and did he rescue you from the burn as well, Carlotta?’ Her aunt gave her an icy stare, one that caused her to shift uneasily in her boots.

      Suddenly Lottie was very aware of the glaring and obvious flaws in her matchmaking scheme, fundamental flaws that she should have anticipated. She could not lie, but to tell the full truth would invite disaster. She had no wish to explain about Tristan Dyvelston, and the kiss on her wrist.

      ‘You might well ask that, but the truth is…’

      ‘Niece, none of your smoked gammon and pickles for me. You appeared to have outgrown the tendency once you were away from your mother and under an altogether steadier influence. Did or did not Mr Shepard fish you out of the burn?’ Aunt Alice raised her spectacles. And her piercing gaze appeared to look into the depths of Lottie’s soul. ‘You are rather less damp than my daughter. Your clothing shows no sign of being rumpled.’

      ‘No.’ Lottie kept her chin high, but she swallowed hard. How was she going to explain this away, particularly as Henry had put Aunt Alice into one of her moods? ‘He did not.’

      ‘He couldn’t.’ Frances gave a high-pitched giggle that echoed around the room. ‘She wasn’t there.’

      Lottie heard her aunt’s little screech of horror and wished the floor would open up. Why had she ever considered that today could be called a good day?

      ‘Was not there?’ Her aunt’s voice sounded like a church bell tolling out a funeral march. ‘Why not there? You depart together. You come back together. But Lottie was not with you at the burn when Mr Shepard oh so gallantly fished you out.’

      ‘Lottie, what were you doing?’ Henry thundered. ‘Are you up to your old tricks? I warned you.’

      ‘I had gone to look at the old church’s ruins with the Claude glass that Lucy sent me as an early birthday present and I could have sworn they were right behind me.’ Lottie opened her eyes, and used the slightly singsong voice she adopted whenever her mother accused her of anything untoward. ‘It was only when I arrived that I discovered my mistake. They had taken the turning to Cruel Sykes burn. Seeing that I was there, I had a look about the church… Cousin Frances had extolled its virtues as a…subject for a watercolour…’

      She glanced between Aunt Alice and Henry to see if they were going to accept the story. Cousin Frances made encouraging noises about the Claude glass.

      ‘Mr Shepard and Cousin Frances soon caught up with me.’ Lottie wiped her hand across her mouth and hoped. ‘And that is all to the story. A simple misunderstanding.’

      ‘Carlotta Charlton,’ her brother thundered, ‘how could you do such a thing!’

      ‘We were right behind Lottie. Only but a moment, once we realised there had been a mistake,’ Frances agreed, nodding vigorously, impressing Lottie with the way she entered into the spirit of the thing. Perhaps she had mistaken Frances’s intentions. Perhaps they could become friends. ‘Mr Shepard thought he heard voices. Lottie’s and a man’s.’

      Lottie put her hands over her ears and turned her head away as everyone began to speak at once. No, definitely not friends.

      ‘That settles it, then.’ Her brother’s tone boomed out over the rest.

      ‘Settles what?’ Lottie asked into the sudden silence.

      ‘Haydon Bridge has singularly failed to curb your wayward tendencies.’

      Lottie curled her fingers as she tried to suppress the wave of hurt that washed over her. ‘I think you are being harsh, Brother. I have led an exemplary life. Ask Aunt Alice, or Cousin Frances.’

      ‘Carlotta Charlton, you have been attempting to do mischief, serious mischief.’ Henry stabbed his forefinger into the air. ‘I told you at Christmas, I have had enough of your minx tricks! You treat your reputation with a casual contempt and a woman without a reputation might as well not live. Polite society certainly will not recognise her.’

      ‘I…I am entirely innocent,’ Lottie said through gritted teeth as Cousin Frances gaped, opening and closing her mouth like some demented cod fish. Right at that instant, she was not entirely certain whom she hated more— Cousin Frances, Mr Shepard or Tristan Dyvelston.

      ‘It is no matter.’ Henry brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his frock coat. ‘Mama is determined that her daughter will marry a title. There is no reasoning with her. You know what she is like with her enthusiasms.’

      ‘I am hardly likely to catch an aristocrat in Haydon Bridge.’

      ‘True, true.’ Henry gave an exaggerate sigh. ‘Mama has been bending my ear about the very subject. I had hopes when she left to take at the waters at Gilsland Spa that she would be distracted, but her experience has only served to renew her determination. She has sent me letter after letter on the subject. Hardly a post goes by without yet another epistle arriving.’

      ‘Do you mean to send me to London?’ Lottie felt the room tilt slightly. Perhaps today was not terrible after all. Perhaps everything was a blessing. She attempted to keep the eagerness from her voice. ‘I know I have missed the Queen Charlotte Ball, but a number of events remain in the Season. Mrs Fullen did say that she might be prepared to sponsor me and she is the sister of Lady Rowland. She knows the patronesses of Almack’s.’

      ‘Lucy considers otherwise. She thinks Mrs Fullen exaggerates about her connection with the patronesses.’

      ‘Lucy forgets what Mrs Fullen did for Ann Mason only two years ago. Lady Rowland is a respected member of the ton, Henry. I read her antecedents in Burke’s Peerage, Baronetage and Knightage, and if she is in Burke’s…’

      Henry held up his hand. ‘I am unprepared to countenance you set loose in London. Lottie, you would be ruined within moments of stepping on a dance floor. Were very nearly, by all accounts, ruined by an unknown man in a deserted churchyard. You have no sense with men, Sister.’

      ‘Then Newcastle? You are taking me back home.’ Lottie refused to let the disappointment of London bow her spirits. Once she returned to Newcastle’s society, she could work on her mother. Mama would realise the true importance of having a London Season to securing a title.

      ‘Gilsland Spa where Mama is taking the waters.’

      ‘Gilsland?’ Lottie’s heart sunk. ‘What is at Gilsland? Who is at Gilsland at this time of year? It is fine for Mama, but does she intend to marry me off to some gouty lord or a creaking count from some unknown European principality?’

      ‘Lord Thorngrafton currently resides there. He has taken a suite at Shaw’s Hotel, as have several other members of the aristocracy. Mama has sent a list of the titled currently residing there. The prospects quite excite her and I must say that they make for quite intriguing reading. I had never considered Gilsland Spa as a possibility before.’ Henry puffed his chest out. ‘I am given to understand that Lord Thorngrafton was very interested in you at an Assembly ball last autumn, Lottie.’

      Aunt Alice gave an audible gasp and Cousin Frances’s eyes gleamed as Lottie gave