“Far too warm,” Charlotte nodded quickly.
Marie opened a window and stripped off the topmost blanket from Charlotte’s bed.
“Ah, you have post this morning,” the maid noted, indicating a tray on Charlotte’s bedside table, “perhaps a long-awaited letter from Lady...” She looked around, “...Amelia,” she finished quietly.
Charlotte took up the only letter on the tray, excited until she saw the handwriting. It was not Amelia’s. She sighed, opening the envelope and unfolding the paper within.
“It is from the… Earl of Tewkesbury,” she commented, frowning. “I cannot think why he is writing to me, except...”
She fell quiet as she read. Marie stopped folding the blanket she held and waited.
“He asked me to meet him at Vauxhall Gardens this morning. He wishes to discuss my betrothal to the Duke of Bellmonte. He believes he has information that I would wish to hear before proceeding any further into that engagement.”
She glanced at her maid in consternation. “Whatever can he mean, do you think?” she asked.
“I cannot imagine, my lady. Unless he learned of the ruse you and Lady Amelia have been at,” Marie murmured.
“He can’t have. At least, I don’t think he has. But I don’t know what interest he can have in my betrothal. It does not concern him at all.”
Marie smiled to herself and went on with her chores.
“What is it, Marie?” Charlotte asked.
“Nothing, begging your pardon, my lady. Just that maybe he does have an interest... inyou, I mean to say. Perhaps he seeks to try and win you over from His Grace, the Duke.”
Charlotte found herself blushing. Nothing about the Earl had drawn her to him, but it was flattering to think that she was desirable.
What nonsense! That cannot be it!
“I do not think so, but thank you for the compliment. There must be another reason, I think,” she pondered aloud.
“Do not sell yourself short, my lady. You have all of Lady Amelia’s beauty and grace in spades,” Marie insisted, “and thelonger you are in London, the more interest you will attract, mark my words.”
She harrumphed. “I do not care for interest. I am only interested in one man, and...” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my, I have never said that aloud, I don’t think. Or allowed myself to think it.”
“To think what, my lady?”
“That I...” Charlotte began before stopping herself. “I am getting carried away. I should not. It will tempt fate. I am attracted to the Duke. Let that be all for now.”
But Marie’s knowing smile did not disappear, and the words that Charlotte would not allow herself to speak aloud reverberated inside her head.
Charlotte walked one of the many paths of the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, a parasol shielding her from the sun, and Marie keeping her company. The walk was lined with tall, lush trees, and the fantastically rococo Turkish Tent was visible in the distance. Between two of the walks, an orchestra was playing upon a grassy square, viewed by dozens of people, either seated or standing.
Charlotte ambled meekly, enjoying the music that drifted over to her. The sun was warm on her face, and she felt a moment of peaceful contentment.
Ahead of her, she gradually became aware of two men cutting through the crowd in her direction. She recognized one of them as the Earl of Tewkesbury. The sense of peace vanished, replaced by a tension in her stomach. He looked intent. The other man held a bag under one arm as though it contained the crown jewels, and his thin smile had an air of anticipation.
“Lady Nightingale, you look radiant as ever! May I call you Amelia?” Tewkesbury exclaimed from afar as he hastened to close the distance between them.
“You may, my lord,” Charlotte mumbled. She looked to the man who stood at Tewkesbury’s shoulder inquiringly.
“May I introduce Mr. Tharpe Monkton, a solicitor who is currently...”
“Asolicitor,” Monkton interrupted smoothly, directing a telltale glance at Tewkesbury. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Nightingale.”
“A pleasure to meet you, too,” Charlotte greeted politely.
She looked back at Tewkesbury questioningly.
