“Well…” Caroline sucked on her lower lip in thought. “There’s the Marquis of Chilton’s son. He’s cutting quite a swath in town.”

“His eldest son? The Earl of Bramley? I thought he married Lucy Gordonstone?”

“Not his eldest son, his youngest. Lord Thomas.”

Charlotte stared at her friend in horror. “Thomas? He’s nineteen!”

“Well, you said you wanted someone younger.”

“Not infantile! I’m three and twenty, Caro. I would like a husband of an age with me, not one who still rides ponies!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t think of anyone else.”

Charlotte snapped her fan closed. “Then think harder. I’m not an unreasonable woman, there must be someone with the title, fortune, and appearance to satisfy me.”

“Well,” Caroline drawled the word out as she eyed her friend carefully. “I did hear that there was a gentleman in town who might suit, but he doesn’t attend many functions.”

“All the better.” Charlotte smiled, her dimples flashing. “He shan’t object to my making a splash in Society as is my due. What is his name?”

“I’ve heard it said that he has a terrible temper, and Mama once told me that he fought a duel over a lightskirt.”

“That shows he has passion and an interest in matters of the bedchamber. I swear, it will be a nice change from Antonio. Who is this gentleman?”

“Being an earl, most of the mamas have him in their sights,” Caroline warned. “You will have heavy competition for his attention.”

Charlotte’s dimples deepened. “Let me worry about that. Who is this charming earl?”

Caroline hesitated, watching her friend warily. “It’s someone with whom your name was linked five years ago.”

“Really?” Charlotte drummed her fingers on the arm of the love seat. “An earl? I don’t remember attaching an earl to my court before I met Antonio. Which earl?”

“He wasn’t in your court, as such,” Caroline replied carefully. “The attraction was more one-sided…”

A face began to appear in the mists of Charlotte’s memory. A long, lean, rugged face, perhaps not handsome by conventional standards, but a face that had great character, a face that had haunted her dreams for the last five years.

“…although some said you would do the impossible and he would make you an offer…”

It was his eyes that she remembered the best. Deep, dark sapphire blue, almost indigo at times, with a distinctive black ring. Framed by two dark blond brows a few shades darker than her own hair, those eyes could pierce through even the most formidable appearances to see the soul.

“…but then your cousin married and he returned to his estates in Scotland. I’m speaking, of course, of—”

“Alasdair McGregor, Lord Carlisle.” Charlotte breathed the words as Caroline was about to pronounce them.

“Yes,” Caroline agreed, still watching her friend closely. “The only man you were interested in that Season.”

“Alasdair,” Charlotte murmured, seeing again the face of the handsome Scot. “He was so very handsome, so dashing, so enigmatic. Everyone wanted to be seen on his arm, all the ladies fought to catch his eye.”