Penelope gasped theatrically. “A scandal.”
“He apologized at least four times,” Irene added kindly.
“Yes, because Joan glared at him as though she intended murder,” Penelope replied.
Charlotte laughed softly, though her attention drifted across the ballroom as a strange sensation prickled at the back of her neck. She looked up instinctively and found herself caught beneath the gaze of an unfamiliar gentleman standing near Elizabeth. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with chestnut hair and sharp blue eyes filled with unmistakable amusement. Even from across the room, there was something boldly confident about him, the sort of effortless arrogance only handsome men seemed capable of carrying successfully.
Then the stranger bowed directly at her. Charlotte blinked in surprise and glanced behind herself to ensure the gesture had not been intended for someone else. Unfortunately, it had clearly been meant for her alone. Before she could recover, Elizabeth smiled brightly and placed a hand upon the gentleman’s sleeve.
“Oh dear,” Charlotte muttered under her breath as Elizabeth began leading him directly toward them.
“What is it?” Irene whispered.
“There is a gentleman approaching, with the Dowager,” she said quietly.
Joan immediately brightened. “Handsome?”
Charlotte hesitated. “Indeed.”
Penelope grinned. “Excellent.”
Harriet quickly adjusted her posture and smoothed her gown as Elizabeth finally reached them. The Dowager Duchess looked delighted with herself, while the gentleman beside her carried the easy smile of a man entirely too accustomed to charming his way through life.
“My dears,” Elizabeth announced proudly, “allow me to introduce the Marquess of Whitemore, Morgan Harding. He is a very good friend of my grandson's.”
All four sisters dipped into graceful curtsies. “My Lord,” they greeted together.
Morgan bowed smoothly. “Ladies.”
Charlotte rose from her curtsy only to find his attention fixed entirely upon her. There was something familiar in his expression that instantly put her on guard. It reminded her far too much of Victor when he was amused.
Morgan stepped closer and took her hand lightly. “My dear Miss Brown, I have heard much of your beauty, but I fear the descriptions did not do it justice.”
Charlotte blinked in surprise before she recovered enough to answer. “Then whoever described me must possess very poor eyesight, my lord.”
Morgan laughed warmly. “And wit as well. Mulford neglected to mention that.”
At the mention of Victor, Charlotte stiffened faintly. “His Grace speaks of me?”
“Endlessly,” Morgan said with a perfectly straight face.
Charlotte narrowed her eyes suspiciously while Joan made a strangled noise beside her.
“I do not believe you,” Charlotte replied.
“A pity,” Morgan said mournfully. “I had hoped my face inspired honesty.”
Penelope leaned toward Irene and whispered far too loudly, “I like this one.”
“I heard that,” Morgan informed her cheerfully.
“Good,” Penelope replied without shame.
Harriet stepped forward with eager delight sparkling in her eyes. “Lord Whitemore, how lovely to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is entirely mine, Lady Linfield.”
Elizabeth patted Morgan’s arm fondly. “He is one of Victor’s dearest friends.”
