The next morning dawned grey, and Charlotte sat waiting in the morning room when Anne Lucas finally arrived. She was slight of frame, quiet, yet indomitably clever. Her timid manner owed much to a difficult upbringing, though amongst friends she was far more at ease, having long since emerged from her shell.
‘I came the moment I received your letter,’ she said in her soft voice, settling herself carefully upon the sofa. ‘What happened?’
Charlotte obliged, recounting the events of the ball.
As Anne listened, her gentle expression shifted from open curiosity to horror. Shock broke through her usual reserve as she cried, ‘The Odd Fellows! Grace would be beside herself if she knew. After all the trouble she and the Duke went through to shut down those brothels in London!’
Charlotte sighed. ‘Yes, well, I doubt even Grace could march across the sea fast enough to help now. She and His Grace are halfway to India. By the time any letter reaches them, they will be travelling back.’
‘This Wilberforce fellow—where have I heard that name?’ Anne wondered.
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Charlotte dismissively.
Anne perched on the edge of the sofa and laid a hand over her friend’s. ‘So what will you do? Lord Stanley is hunting the girl in yellow—you. And from what I hear, he is most tenacious. The maid who helped you change will remember soon enough.’
Charlotte covered her face with her hands. ‘Do not remind me. I am only too aware. His Royal Haughtiness has likely set his Bow Street Runners upon me, I am sure,’ she muttered.
Anne inclined her head slightly. ‘He has reason for his reputation for aloofness—and, well, for being generally disagreeable. His father disowned him when he turned... Ottoman.’
Charlotte paused. ‘Really?’
‘When he converted...’ Anne lowered her voice into a conspiratorial whisper, as if sharing a state secret, ‘to Islam, they say, he travelled through the Ottoman Empire for years. His father cut off his allowance and told him he was not welcome in England. I hear even his friends and family turned their backs on him.’
‘I had no idea.’ Charlotte felt a pang of sympathy for him—but only a little; the sentiment was washed away by the memory of the way he had coldly humiliated her in the card room.
‘He turned to dealing in trade and antiquities to make ends meet. When his father died, he inherited the baronacy, of course. He returned to England rich, but... changed. People say he is indifferent and heartless now. Hence the name: the Ice Baron.’
Charlotte pressed her fingers to her temples. ‘Wonderful. I saved the life of the Ice Baron who thinks of me as a hoyden and a murderer. What would Mama say if she ever found out?’
Anne smiled, a rare and fleeting expression she reserved only for her friends. ‘She would faint first. Then revive, and faint again for good measure. And once she had recovered, she would immediately begin devising a plan to secure his title and fortunefor you.’ She cast Charlotte a sly glance. ‘Rumour has it he is excessively handsome?’
Charlotte laughed despite herself. ‘Handsome is one word for it.’
More like devastatingly beautiful, she thought, though she did not say so aloud.
‘Well, he may soon have greater concerns,’ Anne said. ‘The Odd Fellows are clearly plotting something. If they arrange one “accident”, they may attempt another.’
‘Which is precisely why I must warn him,’ Charlotte said. ‘Or he may well end up dead.’ She fidgeted with her bracelet. ‘But I do not wish to expose myself to further scrutiny.’
She fell silent for a moment, then added, ‘I had thought of sending an anonymous letter...’
‘That is a sensible idea,’ Anne said. ‘Tell him everything you heard—what the dying boy said—everything. Then he may manage the matter himself, and your conscience will be eased.’
‘What if he discovers I wrote it?’
‘Send your maid. Sarah is capable; she will manage,’ Anne replied.
Charlotte tapped her chin. ‘That may be wise. With luck, he will cease searching for me and turn his attention to the true culprit—this Lord W, whoever he may be.’
Anne nodded, then said, ‘What if we could find Lady Bamber’s guest list? We might identify him first.’
Charlotte stared. ‘Are you mad? Do you wish to be murdered next? The man stabbed his own accomplice! I am not traipsing through the ton playing an amateur Bow Street Runner. Besides, if I called upon Lady Bamber’s house and demanded to see her guest list, she would immediately become suspicious!’
‘Oh!’ Anne exclaimed suddenly—something she rarely did, causing Charlotte to spill her tea.
Anne sprang to her feet. ‘I knew I had heard the name Wilberforce before. You remember I am looking to go into service.’
‘Er...’ Unsure where her friend was going with this, Charlotte said, ‘You mean because of your father’s gambling debts?’
