Patricia gasped at the insult. Charlotte ignored the gasp, laughing at the woman before her. True, her laughter lacked the quality of gaiety usually acquainted with such an act, but it was still laughter, and Charlotte was determined to work it for all it was worth. “Oh, my dear Mrs. Mead—if I were to procure a saucer of cream for you, would you pull in your claws and purr for us?”

“Well, really!” gasped Mrs. Mead, her eyes wide with shock.

Charlotte tipped her head to the side and tapped a finger to her lips. “Please do not discomfit yourself in such a manner, Mrs. Mead. If your eyes bulge any further, I am convinced they will pop right out of your head, and we should be obliged to tread carefully lest we squash them into pulpy little bits. Come, Patricia. I do not see any books here I want. I believe we will pick up your wedding gift to Captain Woodwell.”

Charlotte marched off down the aisle leading a giggling Patricia, ignoring the stares and accompanying whispers of everyone as they turned to watch her. She knew she shouldn’t have ripped into Mrs. Mead in that manner, knew that she would pay a dear price for it, but the spiteful comments and digs were just too much for her to bear. She made it into the carriage before she started shaking with the aftermath of her fury and humiliation.

“What an odious old woman!” she snarled, unsure of whether she wanted to scream or cry. She decided on both. “How dare she say such cruel things about Alasdair!”

Patricia, climbing into the carriage behind her, looked surprised. “But, Char! She insulted you, not Dare!”

“Oh, pish,” Charlotte said, fumbling in her reticule for the handkerchief that she had confiscated from Dare’s bureau that morning. “As if anything she could say about me could hurt my feelings. She’s just jealous of me, jealous and spiteful. That I pay no mind to, but when she says cruel things about Alasdair…” Fury like none she had ever felt boiled inside her. “Well, I shall not stand for it.”

“What will you do?” asked Patricia, curious about the fierce look on her sister-in-law’s face.

“I shall simply redouble my efforts to fall in love with your brother. If I concentrate on the matter, I should achieve my goal by nightfall at the latest, don’t you think? Then he will bed me and all the terrible, cruel things they are saying about Alasdair will be untrue.”

Patricia’s mouth moved as if she wished to say something, but no words came out.

“Yes.” Charlotte nodded, just as if Patricia had agreed with her. “Nightfall by the latest. It simply is a matter of turning all my attention to the task.”

***

Despite spending the remainder of the day attempting to fall in love with her husband, all Charlotte accomplished was an argument with him, the result of which was her banishment from his workroom.

“He said my mooning around him was distracting, Batsfoam. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? I never moon! I don’t even know how to moon, and if I did, I’m sure I would do it in a pleasing and agreeable manner, not one that would annoy him.” Charlotte climbed the narrow kitchen stairs up to the main floor of the house, Batsfoam thumping his way behind her. She paused on the ground floor and glared up the carpeted stairs for a moment before starting up them. “And that’s another thing, why did he insist on you accompanying me to my sitting room? It almost seems as if he does not trust me to do as requested, and thus I must have a gaoler! Really, it is too much. Much too much!”