“Lord Carlisle, how pleased I am you could attend after all,” the Duchess of Deal trumpeted down her long nose as soon as Charlotte and Patricia had left their cloaks. The duchess always reminded Charlotte of a long-faced pony she’d had as a child, and the similarity to those of the equine persuasion was becoming even more pronounced with the passing years. “Miss McGregor, is it not? And you must be Captain Woodwell. You are most welcome, sir. My congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”

Charlotte waited politely to be acknowledged, relishing the moment of triumph. She had done what she had set out to do—she had married well and had regained her position, if not fortune. No one in the ton would slight her now, not without incurring Dare’s wrath, and as he was in general a well-liked (if seldom seen) man, she knew his name would protect her. She flashed her dimples as the duchess condescended to notice her.

“Lady Carlisle.” An infinitesimal tip of the head accompanied her dismissive glance.

“Your Grace.” Charlotte smiled broadly, dipping into a deep court curtsy just to annoy the duchess. She rose and greeted the duke, gave her felicitations to the Marquis of Summerton, kissed the cheek of the unworthy bearer of her name, and proudly entered the crowded reception room on the arm of her husband. Candle flames flickered and swayed in the swirling air generated by so many moving bodies as they conducted that intricate dance of Polite Society meeting, greeting, and promenading. Delight shivered down Charlotte’s back as she smiled at everyone. She had done it. She had succeeded where everyone predicted she would fail. She had returned, on her own terms, and no one would ever again keep her from her rightful spot. Ah, but life was sweet.

“I’m back where I belong,” she breathed, her eyes alight with joy as she savored her victory.

“I need a drink. I trust you will keep an eye on Patricia?” Dare asked as he disengaged his arm from Charlotte’s clutch. “Good. Send someone for me when you are ready to return home.”

Charlotte stared in horror as her husband of a day abandoned her at the moment of her greatest triumph.

“Oh, Charlotte, isn’t it beautiful? Have you ever seen so many candles alight at once? I’m surprised no one has swooned in this heat. Why do you suppose the doors are shut? Wouldn’t it be cooler if they allowed some air in? And the flowers? Who could have imagined so many white roses in all of London? Oh, Char, look, just look at that lady’s gown. It’s scandalous! You can see right through to her frillies! I must have one just like it after I am married. Where are Dare and David off to?” Patricia’s face was aglow with excitement, in sharp contrast to the fallen expression of her sister-in-law.

Charlotte swallowed her disappointment, telling herself she didn’t really need Dare present to enjoy herself, but even as the thought formed, she knew it was an untruth. Just being with him made everything seem brighter, more exciting, and when he left, it all turned dull and tarnished.