Irene smiled softly at Charlotte. “Everything is beautiful. The flowers, the music, the supper room.”
“The gentlemen,” Joan added promptly.
Penelope nodded solemnly. “Particularly the gentlemen.”
Harriet pinched the bridge of her nose. “I shall develop a headache before midnight.”
Charlotte smiled despite herself. “Have any particular gentlemen stood out?”
“Oh yes,” Joan said immediately. “Lord Henshaw danced twice with me and said my laugh was infectious.”
Penelope snorted. “That was a polite way of saying loud.”
Joan ignored her entirely. “And Mr. Walters asked whether I enjoyed hunting.”
“You told him you once chased a chicken through the garden with a broom,” Irene said.
“It demonstrated ambition,” Joan said.
“It demonstrated madness,” Irene laughed.
Charlotte laughed again as Joan glared dramatically at her sisters.
“What of you, Irene?” Harriet asked hopefully.
Irene blushed faintly. “Lord Edwin is very pleasant.”
Joan groaned loudly. “Pleasant. Irene, if you marry a pleasant man, I shall perish from boredom.”
“He was kind,” Irene defended softly. “And he spoke very sweetly about his mother.”
Penelope shuddered theatrically. “That does sound dreadful.”
“You are impossible,” Irene said, though she smiled.
Harriet turned eagerly toward Penelope. “And who has caught your interest?”
Penelope grinned wickedly. “Two officers invited me riding tomorrow.”
Harriet looked horrified. “Absolutely not.”
“Why ever not?” Penelope huffed.
“Alone? With two officers, your reputation will be ruined before the season has even begun. Officers are charming and disastrous,” Harriet said.
“That only makes them more entertaining.” Penelope smiled.
Charlotte shook her head affectionately as the argument continued around her. She watched her sisters glowing beneath candlelight, laughing freely in beautiful gowns that had once seemed impossible to afford. For years, she had feared they would fade quietly into obscurity because of circumstance and poverty.
Instead, tonight they shone. Her gaze drifted once more across the ballroom and landed on Victor. He still watched her from afar, his expression unreadable beneath the golden light. A strange warmth spread through her chest before she quickly pushed it aside.
He is a rake. A generous, infuriating, dangerously handsome rake. Do not forget that.
CHAPTER 16
Charlotte listened as her sisters continued chattering all at once around her, their excitement growing louder with every passing moment. Joan was passionately recounting a gentleman’s unfortunate dancing abilities while Penelope interrupted every few seconds with dramatic embellishments. Irene attempted to restore order with polite corrections that nobody listened to in the slightest. Harriet looked equal parts proud and exhausted as she fanned herself furiously beside them.
“And then,” Joan declared grandly, “Lord Henshaw stepped directly onto my slipper.”
