Lady Baldwin was still asleep when Char entered the house and checked on her. She tiptoed up the stairs and changed her clothes, marveling that in spite of all that had happened, no one knew she’d been gone.
Well,someoneknew—Whitridge.
And he’d given her hope that he could sort out the terrible mess she had made of her life.
Trust was not easy for her. Trust made a person vulnerable and Char did not like feeling defenseless. Of course, it had been her pride and her fear that had led her into the difficult position she found herself in now.
Char prepared their supper, setting aside a plate for Sarah and covering it with a towel. She woke Lady Baldwin and the two of them had an easy evening.
The next morning, Lady Baldwin took herself to her daughter’s house. Her intent was to return that evening and chaperone Char to Lord Vetter’s ball. The duke had sent word he would pick them up in his coach.
After she left, Sarah reported that for a reasonable price the wardrobe mistress would help them with another two dresses. “We shall change the trims and they will look like new. They will be in the Greek style, and a stitch here, some ribbon there, and no one will know they are the same dress.”
“How much will it cost?” Char asked.
“Enough,” Sarah said. “We will be spending the last of the money your uncle Davies sent, but it is for a good cause. Besides, he has more than made up for what he owed us. Now that he has decided to honor his commitment to you, he shall continue to do so again next month. Our letters to him were not all for naught.”
Char heard Sarah’s wishful thinking, her planning. Here was the chance to tell her aunt the truth.
She didn’t, and Char felt remarkably guilty.
The duke sent a lovely bouquet later that afternoon. This time, the arrangement of pink roses was a bit more circumspect than the red roses that still took up Sarah’s desk. He’d sent a card with it but all it said was that the duke would arrive for her and Lady Baldwin at half past eight.
“It will be a late night,” Sarah predicted. “Perhaps you should see if you can nap a bit.”
Char was happy to escape to her room. Her conscience was heavy around Sarah. She surprised herself when she lay down and did sleep, although her sleep was restless. She dreamed that she was being chased by the Seven. They yelled at her for money and threw vibrant blue butterflies at her, only the butterflies did not fly away. Instead, they fell to the ground and lay dead, their lovely wings wide open.
She woke disoriented and a bit edgy... and for whatever reason, her first thought went to Whitridge. She wondered if she would see him this evening.
When it came time to prepare, Char wore the dress she had worn to Baynton’s ball. They had reasoned that few would remember her in it since the ball had ended abruptly.
While Char had napped, Sarah had braided silver ribbons together and added the trim under the bodice and around the neckline. Sarah then styled Char’s hair, just as she had the night of the first ball, sweeping it up and threading silver ribbon through it as well.
“You shall remind of him of Artemis,” Sarah said.
Char nodded. She did look well and wondered what Whitridge would say. He’d probably make a quip about her not being in breeches. Well, it was time he saw her as a woman—
Sarah gave Charlene’s shoulders a small hug bringing her back to the moment. She whispered, “You are lovely. Don’t ever doubt yourself. The man will be smitten.”
Char stood, suddenly nervous. Apprehensive.
Placing a hand on Char’s arm, Sarah said, “Here I thought you might appreciate this.” She was dressed in her maid’s costume and pulled a small vial from the pocket of her apron. “It is perfume. I purchased it years ago and I’ve nurtured it over time. Toilette water is fine but for tonight, you deserve the finest.” She opened the stopper. Char took a sniff.
“That is lovely. What is it?”
“The oil of roses and apricots. George had cast me as Cleopatra. It was my first lead role and I believed I deserved a treat. I adore the scent.” She dabbed a touch on the inside of Charlene’s wrists and on her neck right beneath her ears. “Your body heat will add to the scent.”
“Thank you,” Char said, pleased. She took Sarah’s hand. “I wish you were going with me tonight.”
“No, you don’t. With our luck we would walk into Lord Vetter’s and there would be that trio of lords I told you about when I was in the bawdy melodrama. They would recognize me, start making crude comments, and the duke would run. At this time in your courtship, it is not wise to raise any concerns, such as a bastard actress for an aunt—”
Char stopped her by pressing her fingers to Sarah’s lips. “Do not put yourself down. I love you. I love all that you have done for me. You’ve sacrificed so much. I will make it up to you someday.”
“I don’t expect that.”
“I know, but I wish to do so. Can you understand?”
“I do. However, you have your own life to live. Do not worry about me. I’ve survived this long.”
