“I know she likes chocolate,” he said, “but that seems inappropriate.”
“True. Perhaps a bouquet of flowers,” she suggested.
“Why don’t you two deliver the tokens ofourappreciation tonight,” Charlotte interrupted, “and have dinner with them?”
Beatrice exchanged a look with Mr. Carson and knew he was thinking the same as she was.
“I believe, dear sister, we should leave Amity and the duke alone tonight. They’ve seen far too much of us lately as it is, what with all the dance and etiquette lessons. And still, we managed our egregious mistake.”
“I agree with Miss Rare-Foure,” Mr. Carson said to Charlotte. “Let me send flowers and brandy by way of courier, and leave the Pelhams in peace.” He turned to her again. “How did you fare the rest of the evening?”
She and Charlotte had gone home with their parents, and Mr. Carson had gone back to his hotel in a hired hackney, giving them no chance to speak after theirfaux pas.
“Lord Beechum mentioned toffee,” she confessed, sending a glare to Charlotte who looked unperturbed by any implied rebuke. “And he didn’t warmly accept my apology or my request for a dance at another time.”
“His loss,” Mr. Carson said. “Any other prospects?”
“A few of the gentlemen were pleasant. None stepped upon my toes. I’m not sure I could put most of their names to their faces if my life depended upon it.”
“I felt the same,” Charlotte said. “But there will be new faces at every ball, especially the larger ones encompassing the previous Season’s eligible gentlemen.”
“Hm,” Mr. Carson said. “The men might be all right from last Season. However, for my part, I will wonder why the ladies were left on the shelf and not snatched up.”
“That is a dreadful thing to say,” Beatrice defended her sex. “‘Snatched up.’ Maybe a perfectly wonderful young lady didn’t find any of the men to her liking last year and, therefore, shelved herself rather than allow herself to be snatched by the wrong man.”
“Maybe, Miss Rare-Foure. Don’t get your dander up. We’re not even speaking about people we know.”
He was right, but she didn’t like the sentiment all the same. It reminded her too closely of her own situation, shelved even without a Season. But that was in the past. Thanks to Amity, her future had opened once again. She supposed it was also thanks to Mr. Carson for convincing her.
“How did you get on last night?” she asked him. “Did you manage to make it right with the lady who had to dance with Charlotte’s intended partner?”
“Not really. Apparently, the duchess was correct to be distressed at what we’d done to her ball. The lady snubbed me spectacularly. And each of my next seven partners made mention of it, saying how glad they were I’d kept my promise to them. You would think I had reneged on a marriage proposal.”
“The duke caught me between dances and gave me a very stern look,” Charlotte said with a sigh.
“Is that all?” Beatrice asked. “Before we left, when you went to find Mother and Father, His Grace told me he would be hesitant to introduce any more gentlemen to me if that was how I was going to behave. I tried to explain what a singular occurrence it was, but I think Amity will have to smooth things over with her husband if we are to hope for any further help from that quarter. We treat the duke as one of us, but these born-and-bred noblemen truly think differently than we do.”
“Agreed,” Mr. Carson said. “He also told me I would never catch myself a lady if I treated them so shabbily. He reckoned I could not get away with even one more misstep, and that had best be my first and my last.”
They all sighed together. “Shall I put the kettle on?” Charlotte asked.
“I would prefer a glass of whiskey, frankly,” Mr. Carson said.
“Sorry,” Beatrice told him, wearing an exaggerated expression of woe, “we are all out of hard spirits.”
“Just as well,” Charlotte said. “It’s time for me to leave. I’ve cleaned up. All you have to do is—”
“I know how to lock up,” she snapped.
“She also knows how to chase away your customers,” Mr. Carson said, not very chivalrously.
“Please, Bea, don’t do that,” Charlotte said, going to the back room to remove her apron and get her coat and hat.
“You look very smartly dressed today,” Mr. Carson told her, and she did a twirl before him, blushing prettily, until Beatrice wondered why someone hadn’tsnatched upher sister the previous night.
Probably because most of the gentlemen at Amity’s hadn’t been able to see that far past their own upturned noses!
Perhaps this whole thing was a waste of time, putting middle-class shopgirls in with the nobility, except Mr. Carson still had every reason to expect success.
