“No widow’s stipend?”

“None. I had to sell the sheep to have the brocade cleaned so it could be made into a traveling cloak.”

Batsfoam stared at the memorandum paper upon which he was prepared to write the earl’s direction. A sweat broke out on his forehead. “A most calamitous event, my lady.”

“Oh, not terribly so. The sheep smelled and the brocade was quite warm when I was at sea.”

“I do not refer to the sheep, but to your lack of dowry.”

“Oh, that. It’s of no consequence.” Charlotte waved away the servant’s concern. “Alasdair might be upset because he can’t add to his fortune, but I’m sure he is more than happy to take me as I am. I will be an excellent wife to him and no doubt save him vast quantities of money with my equally excellent budgeting skills. While we are on that subject, please inform him that although I know it’s customary for the bride’s family to pay for the wedding, I haven’t any money, so he’ll have to pay for that.”

Batsfoam’s mouth worked silently a few times before he staggered over to a chair and collapsed into it.

“Now, looking back at his list, I must say that his dates are quite, quite unacceptable. Why, the earliest one is three months hence! No.” Charlotte scratched out a list of five dates and made an addition with a bold hand. “Next Wednesday, I believe, will suit me admirably.”

“But, Lady Charlotte,” Patricia protested, “Wednesday is less than a week away!”

“Ample time for your brother to make the arrangements,” Charlotte pointed out.

“But…but…such a hurried wedding…”

Charlotte looked up from creating a list of suitable wedding guests. “Only the really important people, I believe. I wonder what the Prince Regent is doing on Wednesday?”

Patricia blushed a delicate blush and shooed a still stunned, and noticeably reluctant to leave, Batsfoam from the room. She waited until he was gone to speak. “Lady Charlotte, you’re not giving due thought to the date. A wedding in such a hurry…well, it can only cause talk! People will be speculating as to the necessity of such a thing!”

“Necessity?” Charlotte looked up from her list. “What do you mean, necessity?”

Patricia’s blush deepened. “You are a widow, surely you must know.”

Charlotte allowed her forehead to wrinkle briefly in thought. “I believe we must be speaking at cross purposes. What has my late husband to do with my marriage to your brother?”

Patricia wrung her hands, her face flaming with embarrassment. “Nothing, other than…well, if you insist that I speak frankly…intimate relations.”

“What about them?” Charlotte eyed her soon-to-be sister with a small amount of concern. Patricia seemed to be upset about Charlotte’s relatives, and although heaven knew Charlotte herself wasn’t any too fond of her brother and her distant cousins, it seemed rather an odd thing to bring up objections to them now.

“People will think you had them. With Dare.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Charlotte snorted, returning her attention to her list. “I am not even remotely related to you and Alasdair. Do you think the king would be offended if I were to not invite him?”