“You look happy again,” Charlotte said. “You’ve had a fragile look the past few weeks….”

“Like a moth singed by the candle?”

“That’s not the analogy I would have chosen,” Charlotte replied. “Like a person who has made a difficult decision and wonders if she made the right one.”

“You’re blunt,” said Sophie, meeting Charlotte’s eyes again in the mirror.

Charlotte twisted about on the stool, heedless of Marie’s muttered reproach as she dropped hairpins on the floor.

“Are you sure, Sophie? Absolutely sure?”

Sophie nodded, her eyes meeting Charlotte’s without flinching.

“Because …” Charlotte’s voice trailed off. “Well, Braddon is a nice person, of course, but he’s not very—”

“Handsome? Interesting? Intelligent?” Sophie suggested, her mouth twisting wryly.

“How can you marry him!” Charlotte flashed back. “Can’t you see how much better it is to marry someone handsome and intelligent?”

“I don’t want to marry your brother-in-law, Charlotte,” Sophie said patiently. “You have to allow me to know what’s best for myself. I don’t want to marry a rake.”

“But Braddon is a rake,” Charlotte insisted. “Why, I distinctly remember you telling me that Braddon had more mistresses depending on him than a lawyer has cases!”

A flash of amusement lighted Sophie’s eyes. “The point is not that Braddon is or isn’t a rake, it’s that I like Braddon. He’s trustworthy. He doesn’t have deep emotions, and he will be very discreet with his mistresses. He assured me of it himself.”

“You mean you have discussed his mistresses?” Charlotte was horrified and fascinated, both at once.

“He brought it up. I have to admit, I was a little surprised myself.” Sophie tried hard to keep any doubt out of her voice. “That’s the kind of marriage we’re going to have, Charlotte: a calm, reasoned, and friendly alliance. I want a placid marriage. You did not want that particular kind of relationship, and so you and Alex are happy together. But I want the kind of marriage where neither person is blinded by passion. Remember how Alex behaved toward you?” Sophie hesitated and then plunged on. “When you had to travel to Scotland?”

“You don’t have to be so delicate,” Charlotte said wryly. “Alex behaved like a royal devil, that’s true. But we worked it out, and now—” She looked at herself in the mirror. Half of her hair still spilled over her ears and the other half garlanded her head. Marie’s hands were busy plaiting a crimson ribbon into her hair, preparing to tuck the braid in among the rest. Even the thought of her husband stained her cheeks a faint echo of the ribbon.

“I know what you mean.” Sophie’s voice was somewhere between dispassion and despair. “But the grand amour is not going to work for me, Charlotte. I know that you wish for me to find the same happiness that you have. But we all find happiness in different ways. For me, the anxiety of marrying a man whom I loved so passionately, the way you care for Alex, could never be worth it. Your parents are happy; mine are not.”