* * *
Charlotte had spent the better part of the evening pacing the length of her bedchamber in growing horror. Every few moments, she stopped beside the fireplace only to resume pacing seconds later, unable to remain still beneath the weight of her humiliation. By now, she was entirely certain half of London believed she was about to become a duchess. The mere thought made her want to crawl beneath the bed and remain there permanently.
How had everything descended into such chaos so quickly?
Only days ago, she had been seeking respectable employment to support her family. Now, society apparently believed she was engaged to one of the most powerful men in England after a single promenade through Hyde Park.
Charlotte pressed both hands dramatically to her burning cheeks.
Worse still was the fact that Victor had seemed entirely unsurprised by scandal. Calm, composed, and infuriatingly practical, he behaved as though accidental engagements occurred every day before luncheon.
Men truly have no sense of consequences.
With a frustrated sigh, Charlotte finally sat at her writing desk and pulled a fresh sheet of paper toward herself. There was only one person capable of helping her survive this disaster without entirely losing her sanity.
She dipped her pen in ink and began writing swiftly.
My dearest Arabella, you must come to Mulford Manor for tea as soon as possible, for the most atrocious thing has occurred and I fear I shall perish from mortification before the week is out. You must come immediately and save me from despair. Your deeply distressed cousin, Charlotte.
Charlotte reread the letter twice before groaning softly into her hands.
It sounded completely absurd. Unfortunately, it was also entirely true. After sealing the letter carefully, she descended downstairs and found Mr. Baxter near the front hall arranging correspondence upon a silver tray.
“Mr. Baxter,” she said quickly, “would you please ensure this reaches the residence of the Duke and Duchess of Albury immediately?”
The butler accepted the letter with perfect composure. “Certainly, Miss Brown.”
* * *
By the following afternoon, Charlotte was anxiously awaiting Arabella’s arrival in the drawing room with enough nervous energy to unsettle even the footmen. The moment the carriage finally arrived outside, she nearly sprinted toward the foyer.
Arabella swept into the manor moments later, looking thoroughly alarmed.
“Charlotte!” she exclaimed. “I was most distressed by your letter. What has happened?”
Charlotte immediately rushed forward and embraced her cousin tightly. “I am so glad you are here.”
Arabella pulled back just enough to study her face. “Good heavens,” she said. “You truly do look near collapse.”
“I feel near collapse.”
Charlotte groaned softly and dragged her cousin further into the drawing room before any servants could linger too near. “Sit down,” she whispered urgently.
Arabella obeyed at once, eyes wide with anticipation. “Tell me everything.”
Charlotte lowered herself into the chair opposite her and leaned forward. “It was Hyde Park,” she said dramatically. “Mrs. Holly and her sisters approached us whilst Elizabeth and I were walking.”
Arabella blinked once. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
Charlotte explained the encounter in rushed detail: the greetings, Elizabeth’s excitement, and finally the catastrophic announcement of their supposed engagement.
Arabella gasped outright. “She told all three sisters?”
“Yes.”
“Oh dear, they are the biggest busybodies of all of London,” Arabella said.
