“Charlotte! Never say he’s already offered for you!”

“No,” Charlotte replied, a flicker of something very like obstinacy passing briefly over her smooth features. “Not as yet, but attainment of that very goal is how I will make us both happy.”

Caroline leaned forward, her eyes puzzled. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you. What can I do to help?”

An impish smile teased the corners of Charlotte’s mouth. “It’s very simple. The night of Lady Jersey’s masquerade ball you’re going to help me snare Lord Carlisle in a trap of such fiendish cunning, he won’t escape it unbetrothed. To me, that is.”

“Oh,” Lady Beverly breathed, excitement lighting her eyes. She leaned her dark head closer to Charlotte’s. “How will we do that?”

Charlotte gave free rein to her smile. Why shouldn’t she? If anyone had a right to smile it was she, for she had thought up a plan of such outstanding cleverness, a plan so brilliant in its stark simplicity, it was truly wondrous to behold. Caroline, for one, was sure to be impressed. “It is quite easy, dear friend. During the ball, you and as many others as you can find will discover Lord Carlisle in a room alone with me.”

“But,” Caroline protested, “how do you know he’ll be at the ball? He doesn’t attend many events.”

“Caro, do you honestly think I’d go to all the tiresome work, not to mention the risk of unsightly forehead wrinkles, involved in thinking up a plan if Alasdair was not going to be present? Lady Jersey’s ball is the most important event of the Season, he’s sure to be there with his sister, who is to be married a few days later.”

“That may be so, but I’ve only seen Lord Carlisle and his sister once,” Caroline said slowly. “I don’t believe they attend very many balls and such.”

“Then it will be up to you to ensure they attend this one.”

She stared at Charlotte in confusion. “How am I to do that?”

Charlotte cast an impatient glance heavenwards. “Honestly, Caro, must I think of everything? Whatever happened to your initiative? I suppose you’ll…you can…perhaps you could…oh, pheasant feathers, simply pay a call on Miss McGregor and tell her she must attend the ball or no one will come to her wedding.”

Lady Beverly mused upon this advice for a few moments. “Will they?”

“Will who what?” Charlotte asked wearily.

“Will people not come to her wedding if she doesn’t attend the ball? I’m not sure that one necessarily follows the other. Her wedding guests might not be at the ball, you know. The McGregors live a very quiet life, or so dearest Algernon says, and even if they didn’t, I can’t see people shunning Miss McGregor’s wedding just because they did not attend Lady Jersey’s—”

“Caroline Augusta Gwendlyspere Talbot,” Charlotte interrupted, breathing heavily enough to drown out Wellington the pug. “Might we stick to the subject that concerns us, the subject of my happiness and your role therein? Your tasks are simple and few, and before you offer up one complaint, I’d like you to know that all of the work, the real work, will fall upon my shoulders. So cease this rabble about wedding guests, and focus your attention!”