“He didn’t!”
“He did. Everyone knew what he meant by it. Harriett nearly melted. Several people heard it. Word had spread across the ballroom almost before you danced across it!”
“She’ll be furious,” Charlotte whispered.
“She’ll be lucky to hold her head up in company,” Aunt Bernadine corrected. “She left in tears.”
Charlotte’s stomach dropped. She was already in her aunt’s and her cousin’s bad graces, just for getting herself to London for a chance at a Season. They would blame her. She knew it.
“Should we . . . go and check on her?”
“No, dear. I’m afraid you are going to be far too busy.”
“Busy?”
“Lord Whiddon’s attention has been noticed. Others will follow. Brace yourself,” her aunt whispered.
Behind Charlotte, someone cleared a dainty throat. She turned to find Miss Winthrop there. “Charlotte, dear, if you don’t mind, my cousin is begging for an introduction.”
“Of course.” Charlotte summoned a smile for the young man at her friend’s side.
Beside her, a gentleman bowed to her aunt. “Miss Mayne, how do you do this evening?”
“Lord Norwell!” Aunt Bernadine said. “Good evening.”
“Perhaps you might make me known to your niece?”
Charlotte had not a moment, after that, to spare a thought for Harriett. But she searched in vain, for the rest of the evening, for another sign of Lord Whiddon.
