“Lady Charlotte, yes.”

Charlotte paused as she descended the stairs to the basement. “Charlotte? Her name is Charlotte? Well, the insipid little twit was misnamed, she’s nothing like a Charlotte. Regardless of how poorly Their Graces chose to name her, her engagement ball is going to be the biggest event for the rest of the Season, and I’ve already accepted—on all our behalf—the invitation she sent Dare. Now we must acquaint him of this fact, and then I shall take the servants in hand. They sorely need it, not that I am impugning your skills in the least.”

Patricia giggled as the pair headed down the low-ceilinged, dark hallway leading to Dare’s workroom. “Thank you, Charlotte. I’m not feeling impugned at all, but I’m afraid Dare won’t like your idea in the least. He hates the ton, he has ever since…well, since before he became an earl. I had a terrible time getting him to take me to Lady Jersey’s masquerade. I had to threaten him with all sorts of things, finally resorting to crying before he agreed, and even then he swore it would be the only function besides my wedding that he would attend for the rest of the year. I don’t know how you plan to persuade him to go, but I can assure you that it will not be an easy task.”

“I don’t imagine it will be too difficult once I present my proposition,” Charlotte said, halting before the door to Dare’s workshop. “He’ll have no way to refuse me once I offer to help him sell his engine to Mr. Whitney.”

Patricia grabbed her arm as she was about to open the door. “Help him? How can you help him sell his engine to Uncle Whitney?”

Charlotte smiled a smile filled with her newly discovered awareness of feminine power. “My dear, I am a woman. No one can resist me when I put my mind to it. Even your brother could not withstand the onslaught of my full attention. Persuading your David’s uncle to buy Alasdair’s machine will be nothing compared to the coup I have just made.”

Patricia mumbled a warning about the advisability of referring to Dare’s marriage as a coup in his hearing, but she followed along docilely enough as her new sister bearded her brother in his den. Watching Charlotte handle Dare for the next few days was going to be an education, and she very much looked forward to seeing who would win their battle of wills.

Eight

“Truly, Charlotte, I don’t know how you managed this miracle, but I’m so glad you did,” Patricia whispered, squeezing Charlotte’s hand as the pair slowly maneuvered their way through the crowd that littered the grand staircase at Henley House.

Charlotte thought briefly of the steadfast refusal Dare had first given, followed by gracious capitulation once Charlotte had sent Patricia from the workroom so she could ply him with kisses and pretty words. Truthfully, the words had little effect, but the kisses, oh, those kisses… Charlotte glanced behind her at where her husband and David followed. The latter was smiling pleasantly, his eyes on his betrothed, while the former was scowling at her with an intensity that could blister steel. She paused for a moment to note just how very handsome he was in midnight blue, then blew him a kiss and turned back to the hall to remove her cloak and make her curtsies to those in the receiving line.