Her gown was gold.
Not pale champagne, not muted shimmer – gold. Bright, theatrical, and heavy with flashy accents that caught the candlelight and threw it back like sparks. It had nothing to do with sea-glass or greenery or underwater elegance.
Charlotte smiled brilliantly. “Your Grace.”
James’s expression did not change. His eyes moved over her gown with a brief, assessing glance.
Eleanor’s stomach tightened, bracing for either indifference or approval.
James offered neither.
“And Arabella,” Norman continued, gesturing sharply.
Arabella stepped forward, dressed plainly as Eleanor had instructed in a gown that was soft blue with simple lines and a modest neckline. She looked lovely. She looked like herself, and Eleanor’s chest warmed with pride.
Eleanor reached out at once, catching Arabella’s hand and drawing her closer, anchoring her beside her.
“You look beautiful,” Eleanor murmured.
Arabella’s eyes softened. “So do you.”
Charlotte’s smile tightened.
James inclined his head once, curt toward Charlotte and Norman. “Miss Barker.”
Charlotte leaned forward slightly, voice sweet. “I do hope you are pleased with your ball, Your Grace. It must be… inspiring to see it arranged for you so properly.”
Eleanor’s fingers tightened around Arabella’s hand.
James’s gaze remained fixed on Charlotte, cold and unwavering.
“The ball is arranged properly at my behest,” James said. Then, after a beat, “Your gown, however, is not.”
Charlotte blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
James’s tone remained polite. “I am rather embarrassed that the Master of Ceremonies did not intercept you before you arrived to be received.”
A hush seemed to fall around them, subtle but immediate.
Charlotte flushed. “Intercept me?”
James’s gaze swept her from head to toe once more, clinical. “It appears your modiste has dressed you for another event entirely.”
Norman’s face tightened. “Your Grace –”
James did not look at him. “Our theme is clear. Underwater. Sea-glass. Greenery. Pale bloom.”
Charlotte’s face went from pink to scarlet. “I was told –”
James’s voice cut neatly through her protest. “Yes?” His question most certainly rhetorical.
Charlotte’s eyes flashed with humiliation. She opened her mouth as if to argue, then seemed to realize how many people were watching.
Her lips trembled. “This is – this ismostunkind.”
“On the contrary, Miss Barker, your choices have been met with consequences, and now you must answer to them,” James replied.
Charlotte made a strangled sound and turned sharply, nearly colliding with a footman as she fled into the crowd.
