“Perfect! What a stunningly, stunningly perfect idea, Caro! I shall forever be in your debt. Now, what do you think is more effective—a bewitching love spell or a love potion? Perhaps I should use both, just to be on the safe side? Yes, both is good. Now, where to find a witch…”

Caroline stared at Charlotte with a mouth that hung ever so slightly ajar. Never would she understand the paths Charlotte’s mind took, not if she had a hundred years to do so.

***

“Charlotte?”

Dare leaned close to her, his breath ruffling her hair in a manner that made little shivers of delight go down her back. She kept her eyes on Patricia and David as they danced. “Yes, Alasdair?”

“Would you mind telling me what that is you’re wearing around your neck?”

Charlotte looked down at the blue gown that matched her eyes, the gown she had worn for her wedding and had now donned for Patricia’s nuptials. Barely visible above the bodice was a thin gold chain upon which hung the amulet the witch had given her.

“It is an amulet.”

“Ah.”

Patricia and David danced by in a swirl of adoring looks, rose lace, and forest-green superfine. Charlotte almost envied Patricia her unblemished happiness, musing sourly to herself that her new sister-in-law hadn’t had to survive the hell of the last few hours as she had. Long, painful hours during which she was both ignored and ridiculed by Patricia’s guests, bound by etiquette and the desire not to ruin Patricia’s wedding to keep her tongue behind her teeth no matter how strong the provocation was to do otherwise. And that was a sore trial, indeed.

“What sort of amulet?”

“It is the hind foot of a lovebird.”

Still, she had survived all the catty remarks and cruel asides, whispered in tones meant for her ears. She noticed that both the remarks and asides ceased whenever Alasdair was around; no doubt he, as a man, was excluded from such unpleasantness.

Life was so unfair at times.

“You’re wearing the foot of a dead bird around your neck?”

“The hind foot of a lovebird,” she corrected him absently, glancing at the clock on a table set near the door. There was only one more hour to go; and then the wedding breakfast would be officially over with the departure of Patricia and David for his ship. One hour. One short hour, and then she and Alasdair would accompany the bridal pair to the docks, finally returning home, where she would withdraw from Society until such time as it found some new bit of gossip to shred to pieces.

And, of course, there was still the little matter of falling in love with her husband.

“Birds only have two feet, Charlotte.”

“Do they? How very fascinating.”

“Two feet mean there are no front or hind feet.”

“Perhaps lovebirds have four.”

“No, they have two, just like every other bird.”

“Perhaps this lovebird was of a rare, four-footed species little known to man, and thus, the hind leg of it would be considered lucky.”