“I had to read sermons to old Mrs. Bengyman for an entire month, and you remember how horrible she was. She smelled of camphor and would insist on clacking those false teeth of hers when I least expected it. It was louder than a cannon shot.”

“—I will be happy to tell you my plan.”

“I was a nervous wreck after a few days. I ended up with a tic over my right eye for three months after that.”

“Namely”—Charlotte drew a deep breath and refused to argue with her sole remaining friend—“one concerning Lady Brindley.”

That stopped Caroline in mid-squawk. “Lady Brindley? You plan on causing a scandal about Lady Brindley?”

“Shhh, do you want the whole of London to hear my plan? And who better to be the focus of a scandal? I couldn’t very well go about involving someone innocent—not that the ton is overly ripe with innocents, but still, I would never deliberately hasten a scandal about someone who did not deserve it, and you must agree that if anyone deserves a little of the grief she’s caused, it’s Lady Brindley.”

Caroline looked thoughtful for a moment. “I must admit I cannot fault your reasoning there. She certainly has gone out of her way to injure both you and Lord…Mr. McGregor. What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Well, do you remember telling me last week about the Marchioness of Welles’s ball next week?”

A small frown of concentration wrinkled Caroline’s forehead. “Yes, you said you detested Lady Welles, and you’d rather walk naked through Hyde Park than attend her ball.”

“I’ve changed my mind. Prinny is supposed to be there, yes?”

“You mustn’t call him that; it’s disrespectful. The Prince Regent is Hypatia’s godfather, and yes, he said he would attend her ball. Why?”

“The ball is sure to be a crush, for everyone who does not remember Hypatia as a spotty little girl inclined to tell tales will be there—in other words, it’s the perfect setting for a scandal guaranteed to so shock and titillate Society, that foolish business with the Pretender will be forgotten in a trice.”

“What scandal?” Caroline said with evident worry.

Charlotte smiled. Oh, it wasn’t a particularly nice smile, she knew that, it wasn’t the sort of a smile she would allow anyone but a dear, trusted friend to see, laden with smug satisfaction and just a hint of wickedness, but it was still a smile. She gave herself several points for the fact that faced as she was with the complete and utter destruction of her social life, she could still smile. “Lady Brindley is going to have an accident at the ball. Or rather, her gown is.”

Caroline’s eyes opened wide. “Her gown? You don’t mean the one she was having fitted when I saw her at the modiste’s?”

“Exactly that one. Or rather, a copy of it. That’s where your help comes in.”

“My help? My help with what?” Caroline’s voice rose at least an octave in her distress. Charlotte explained her plan in such detail as to make Caroline’s blood run cold.