A small headache pulsed to life at the front of Charlotte’s head. She opened a window that looked out onto the tiny garden below and welcomed the sweet summer air, tainted though it was by the ever-present hint of coal.

“I must admit I was glad when he gave it up. The pomade smelled of garlic, and you know, really, it’s impossible to go to sleep when the person next to you has a garlic-perfumed lip.”

The headache blossomed into something deeper. “Caroline, do you think we could get back to matters at hand—namely, that Lady Jersey has poisoned everyone’s mind against me by recalling my romantic and dashing elopement all those many years ago?”

“Oh, but it isn’t Lady Jersey,” Caroline protested, smoothing the soft gray kid of her gloves. “At least, that’s what dearest Algernon said two nights past when we were at the opera and he was talking to Lord Collins. Have you seen your brother since you’ve come home again? He has the most divine mustache with just the shortest little beard, which I don’t quite like, but I think you will find his mustache is all the rage. Many of the gentlemen are adopting them now. Except, of course, dearest Algernon. I told him I simply cannot endure more sleepless nights smelling the garlic on his lip.”

Charlotte frowned in concentration as she picked through the other woman’s mental meanderings. “What did my brother say to Lord Beverly?”

“About his mustache? Well, it seems he uses a special pomade that contains the glands of a—”

“No, what did Matthew say about me?”

Caroline pursed her lips as she searched the dark, dusty hallways of her memory. “Oh, yes, that. Evidently when dearest Algernon mentioned that I was calling on you today, Lord Collins told him not to allow it, that after The Event your father had made sure you weren’t accepted in Polite Society, and he had taken it as a sacred duty to see his father’s wishes carried out, and that he would be contacting Lady Jersey and other preeminent matrons to let them know of his feelings. So you see, it’s not Lady Jersey’s fault at all that you received so many cuts yesterday when you went out. I suspect it was all your brother’s doing.”

“That beast!” Charlotte stood, her hands balled into fists as she stomped over to the fireplace. The stomping didn’t make her feel the least bit better, so she spun around and stomped to the other side of the room, anger seething from every pore. “I knew he wouldn’t do anything to welcome me back into the family, but to deliberately sabotage my chances, why, that’s…that’s…that’s a calligraphy!”

“A catastrophe.” Caroline nodded. “Especially if you hope your plan to find a husband goes forward. What gentleman will offer for you if he knows your brother does not recognize you?”

Charlotte snarled silently and strode by, two fingers pressed to her forehead.

“Of course, you could always look outside of the ton for a husband,” Caroline said tentatively.