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Her grandmother chuckled. “Sit with me for a while. If you allow your skirts to dry a little, they will be less likely to attract the sand.”

Charlotte accepted her grandmother’s advice and claimed the chair beside her. She sat, watching the sunlight dance upon the water.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Grandmama.”

“You deserve it, my dear.”

She turned to face her grandmother. “I’m not sure that I have done anything worthy of this outing.”

“Does patiently enduring endless hours of discussion, decisions, and shopping for a wedding that is not your own count for nothing?”

Charlotte wrinkled her nose at the memories. “I was not always very patient.”

“You were a saint,” Grandmama said. “And your increased desire to be excused from it over recent weeks was simply your intelligence shining through.”

Charlotte laughed. “I shall cling to those words when Mother chastises me for not offering an opinion on the color of Margery’s wedding flowers.”

Grandmama muttered something under her breath. “I am only willing to put up with inconsequential matters being made important if truly vital issues are given equal treatment. When those things are ignored, it is time to step in and do something about it.”

Charlotte searched her memory for something in her grandmother’s life that may have been inadvertently overlooked. She could think of nothing.

“I am terribly sorry, Grandmama. I am sure that if you were to make Father aware of whatever has been neglected, he would see to it.”

She leaned over and patted Charlotte’s hand. “I think not, my dear. But do not fret. Lady Cheston and I have embarked upon a scheme, and we are both quite hopeful regarding its outcome.”

When Charlotte considered how determined Lady Cheston might be if she set her mind to a project, her concerns lessened.

“I am glad.” She looked at her grandmother curiously. “Is that why you chose to come here? To gain Lady Cheston’s assistance?”

“Yes. And to give you an opportunity to meet people beyond the pathetic circle of would-be-suitors whom you have been entertaining while your mother is consumed with Margery’s wedding.”

Charlotte stared at her. She had been flattered by the number of gentlemen callers she had received over the last few weeks.

“Lord Haversham is an earl.”

“He is a sap.”

“What of Mr. Ledbetter? No one could accuse him of being a sap.”

“Of course not, because he is too cocky by half.”

“And Mr. Wilmore?”

“Have a care, Charlotte. He is three times your age. With his money, he should have no difficulty finding a kindly widow to keep him company in his dotage.”

Charlotte was beginning to see where this conversation was leading. She brushed sand off her gown with feigned nonchalance.

“Why did you not tell me that Lord Cheston is significantly younger than Father?”

“It did not seem important.”

“Grandmama,” Charlotte’s exasperation was obvious. “You have just told me that Mr. Wilmore’s age is of the utmost importance. You cannot now tell me that Lord Cheston’s is not.”

“Would you have agreed to come if I had told you that a handsome and eligible baron lived in the house?” her grandmother challenged.

Would she? Charlotte attempted to set aside her indignation long enough to analyze the question. Truth be told, she’d been secretly glad that she’d felt nothing more than flattery for the attention offered her by the aforementioned gentlemen in London. After having been involved in the rigmarole surrounding Margery’s wedding preparations, she had little desire to enter that state herself.

“It would have depended upon whether or not you had told me that I could spend a full day at the sea,” she said.

Her grandmother chuckled. “You are a delight, Charlotte.”

Charlotte shook her head. Somehow it felt wrong to accuse her grandmother of being sneaky, wily, or meddling, even though she was all of those things.

“Just remember, I am at Tribbley Hall as your companion and to visit the seaside. Lord Cheston can have no interest in someone so wholly removed from his world, and I refuse to be one of those silly young ladies tripping over themselves to get in his way.” She looked at Grandmama sternly. “And I also refuse to be further manipulated by my scheming grandmother.”

“Very well,” Grandmama said.

“Very well?” It was not the response Charlotte had anticipated, and her grandmother appeared far too smug for someone whose underlying motives had just been exposed.

“Absolutely,” Grandmama said. “Daphne and I have done what we set out to do.”

Heaven help her. Lady Cheston was in on the scheme too. “And what exactly was that?”

“Simply to have you and Lord Cheston meet each other.”

It was true; they had accomplished that much. Charlotte looked away and brushed another clump of sand from her skirts. This was probably not the time to tell Grandmama that at their first meeting, Lord Cheston had been dressed as a farmhand and she’d been covered in mud.