“We shall be the prettiest ladies on the beach,” Charlotte whispered in a sly voice. “The talk of Brighton.”
A thrill raced through me. Charlotte did tend to exaggerate, but at the moment, I wanted it to be true. I squeezed her hands and spun in a circle, laughing as my giddiness overwhelmed me.
Mama and Edmund led the way out the front door. Charlotte and I followed, arm in arm. The air outside smelled of fish and saltwater, the summer breeze warm against my skin. Since arriving, I had already noticed a difference in the texture of my hair, the moisture from the sea making it less tame and straight. I didn’t mind though.
“You are smiling like a ninny,” Charlotte whispered with a laugh. “We must be taken seriously.” She demonstrated her own soft smile and beckoning eyes, and I tried to replicate theexpression. But the rows of shops, clubs, and libraries distracted me as we made the downhill walk toward the main beach.
The streets were crowded, though the peak season was still a week or two away. It was rumored that the Prince himself would be arriving at the Royal Pavilion soon, and the most elite members of society would be sure to follow. Charlotte was right—looking like a ninny would be a grave mistake.
As we came closer to the beach, I was surprised to see pebbles instead of sand, and dozens of seagulls swooping down from the cloudless sky.
And there it was—the sea—formidable and wild, full of unknown creatures and depths I couldn’t begin to comprehend. The waves rolled ceaselessly, their white crests curling and collapsing upon the shore. The water stretched to the horizon, and I blinked against the brightness of the reflection of the sun on the surface.
The beach was dotted with well-dressed men and women, their laughter and conversation drifting on the breeze. The golden domes and minarets of the Royal Pavilion gleamed in the distance, standing out among the townhouses and hotels that lined the streets. Further down the beach were neat rows of wooden carriages painted in blue and white.
Bathing machines.
I had only heard stories of the contraptions. As the stories went, early in the mornings, dippers were employed to guide ladies into the water for an invigorating and beneficial seawater bath. Charlotte had already scoffed at the idea, but I secretly wanted to try it. A grin tugged on my lips despite my effort to contain it.
Closer to the promenade, merchants sold shell trinkets, sugared almonds, and even coral jewelry. Children ran along the beach, gathering pretty stones and fragments of seashells. The tide was low, revealing a long stretch of wet sand beyond theedge of the pebble beach. I started in the direction of the water but felt a tug on my arm.
“You must distract your mother,” Charlotte said in a quiet voice. She looked ahead, pulling my gaze away from the sea and toward Mama, who was holding Edmund’s arm as they walked. “If you draw her away from Edmund, it will open the door for me. I would very much like to walk with him.”
I swallowed hard, my delight vanishing. “Charlotte—there is something I must tell you.”
“Tell me later.” Her dismissive tone left little room for argument.
I bit my lip, choosing my words carefully. “It might be premature for you to be seen paired off with Edmund in public. If gossip began circulating, you might not have as many other suitors.”
She gave a light laugh. “I don’t requireother suitors. You know he’s the one I have chosen.”
“Yes, but?—”
“We are losing time,” Charlotte snapped. “Are you going to help me, or not?”
I slowed my pace, realizing how much faster she was walking in her attempt to catch up to him. “I want to help you, I truly do, but I am trying to warn you against the endeavor.”
She scowled, her pale brows drawing together. “I thought you were on my side.”
“I am! Please listen.”
She gave me a skeptical look before wriggling her arm away from mine, striding forward with surprising speed.
I let out a frustrated sigh.
As if she had practiced countless times, she slipped off her lace shawl and flicked it into the breeze. The wind carried it around Edmund and Mama, tossing it up and down and into thedistance ahead of them. Charlotte gasped, picking up her skirts and rushing after it.
I watched the display with a mixture of shock and admiration. Charlotte skirted the line between clever and conniving, but still, I would do well to learn a thing or two from her.
Don’t do it, Edmund,I urged my brother in my mind. But he was a gentleman by nature. He saw the floating shawl and ran immediately after it.
Charlotte chased him down the beach, laughing as they both reached the shawl at the same time. Even from a distance, I could see her sugary smiles of gratitude as she accepted the shawl from Edmund’s hands. Before he could escape, she looped her arm through his, pointing ahead at the water’s edge. I sensed his reluctance as he walked forward, following whatever instruction she had given him.
Mama waited for my approach, an amused smile on her lips. She squinted against the sun, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Poor Edmund,” she said with a laugh.
“Charlotte does not give up.”
“As her friend, you must discourage her.” Mama’s expression turned serious. “Edmund will not remain in Brighton if he suspects any gossip will form about an attachment between them. This cannot be taken lightly. The people here survive on only two things: gossip and seawater. They are prone to form a scandal out of nothing.”
