The source slithers out of Lizzie’s ewer—Esmeralda, my late Granny Maggie’s pet boomslang. And my ward for the past year and a half. Cheeky little thing must’ve slipped her brass cage. Again. She abhors confinement nearly as much as her previous mistress.
A pinprick of grief pierces my chest as I step to the bureau to rescue the snake. Aunt Teddy bellows for Alice, Lizzie’s lady’s maid. She clambers into the room, and when I pass Esmeralda to her, she pales. The snake coils around her forearm, a sign of affection that Alice has misinterpreted as an attack, if the soft wail that follows them out is any indication.
Danger abated, Aunt Teddy hauls herself from the bed, tucking straw-gold wisps into her sleeping cap. Even in her nightclothes, she is an intimidating woman. Her attention snaps to my feet. “Are you wearing those filthy boots again? I thoughtI asked Mathilde to dispose of them. No wonder you’ve yet to lure a husband, Charlotte. You have such little regard for your appearance.”
George doesn’t give a fig about my footwear, I think to myself, chewing my lip to mask a grin that will only encourage Aunt Teddy to expound upon my shortcomings. Her favorite subject.
“Remember what we discussed. Tonight, you must be charming and demure. Do not let your desperation show. Do not ask too many questions. And above all, donottalk about yourself. Figure out what the gentlemen want and be that. It’s imperative to make a proper impression if you hope to make a match before you’re put out to pasture.”
She mutters that I’m too much like my wanton mother. Laments the loose leash her mother-in-law allowed me. Frets over my impending spinsterhood and how it will tarnish the family name. What horror, for a woman to remain unwed after an unprecedented seventh Season.
She’ll take back those words tonight. As soon as George sinks to one knee to declare his love before a room of men who’ve overlooked me year after year after year.
It will be a triumph. A scandal, maybe. Love overcoming every obstacle.
My smile blooms as I leave Lizzie’s room, closing the door upon my aunt’s grumbling.
Chapter
Two
“Idon’t know why you took in that terrifying creature,” Lizzie pouts as Alice brushes out her hair. “I would have put it out of its misery.”
Lizzie has far more in common with Aunt Teddy than she realizes.
“Esmeralda is a she, not an it.” My head jerks sideways as Mathilde encounters a frazzled knot. “And she was likely more frightened of you than you were of her. Especially with all your dreadful screaming.”
“Once I have a husband, you can be sure I won’t be sharing my household with a snake.”
I want to make a crude joke, but I am not sure Lizzie would understand it. And it’s not a joke ademureyoung woman should be making anyway.
Despite our seven-year age gap, Lizzie and I could be twins. We share the same pale blonde hair, golden-green eyes, and heart-shaped face. Only a few cosmetic differences separate us—the gap between my front teeth, my unruly hair that cannot decide whether it wants to be waves or curls, and my smattering of freckles from too many days sketching in the sun without a parasol.
Lizzie examines herself in the mirror. “Do you think I have a chance at Favourite?”
“You have as much a chance as anyone, I suppose.”
“I wouldn’t saythat,” Lizzie scoffs as Alice slides the final pin into her chignon. “I have a better chance than you, after all.”
I huff out a little laugh, refusing to be stung by Lizzie’s casual cruelty today. Nothing can dampen the joy fizzing through my veins. After tonight, I’ll have George. Why would I care about winning the King’s approval?
I smile into my bodice, dislodging a section of my updo, then yelp as Mathilde yanks my head back to begin her reconstruction.
Lizzie walks to the bed, bracing her hands on the bedpost while Alice tightens her stays. “How did you feel heading into your first Season?”
Our eyes catch in the mirror, and her bottom lip quivers. Despite her bluster, Lizzie is nervous.
Something tightens my chest, an affection she probably doesn’t deserve but I cannot suppress.
I could tell her the truth. That even my first Season was horrid. That making innocuous small talk week after week, year after year, with the same group of judgmental vultures—none of whom had any real interest in me—not only bored me to tears, but stole a part of my soul. That the only thing that made last Season bearable was finding someone who wants to share forever with me.
But I know Lizzie well enough to know she doesn’t want that truth.
“Well,” I say, “I imagine I felt similarly to you right now.”
“I very much doubt that.” Lizzie burbles a laugh as Alice maneuvers her into a dusky rose evening gown. “When have you ever been more than a curiosity? You have no idea the pressure I’m bearing. If my match falls short of expectations, my reputation will never recover. If you make any match at all, Bretonnic society will deem it a miracle.”
Somuch in common with her mother.
