“All right,” Chloe said coolly. She nodded at Charlotte, giving her a rather sweet smile, and walked off with Will. Charlotte watched them go, smiling slightly. She had no delusions about how long Will would be a single man. He was well and truly caught, she thought. She shrugged a bit and met the brown eyes of the young man seated to her right.

“Lady Charlotte,” he said. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

Charlotte felt truly annoyed. She disliked walking into shadowed passageways with strange young men. In her experience they invariably tried to kiss you, certain that their masterful lips would conquer all resistance. Vauxhall was surrounded by pleasure gardens and ivy-hung walks that were only dimly illuminated by Chinese lanterns and strings of lights. Her eyes met Sophie’s and Sophie twinkled at her sympathetically. She herself was busy fending off three men with a similar mission. Meanwhile the marquis had managed to talk Daphne Boch into going to see the fireworks, and the marchioness was staring straight ahead, a pinched look about her mouth. Charlotte wanted to go home. Alex was nowhere to be seen, and what was she doing with him anyway? Not that she was with him, considering that he had sauntered off the moment they arrived. She felt cross, humiliated, and rather tired.

The young brown-eyed gallant was standing next to her, politely holding out his arm. She looked up at him appealingly. “My lord, I find that I am quite exhausted. Would you be so kind as to escort me back to my home?”

Happily enough, the Honorable Peter Dewland evidenced no sign of libidinous fever at the idea of being alone in a carriage with Charlotte Daicheston. He simply nodded. Charlotte made her apologies to the tight-lipped marchioness. Sophie had disappeared into the flower-scented night, escorted by all three bravos. Alex was nowhere. Charlotte put her fingers lightly on Peter’s arm and they walked off toward the carriages.

They were about halfway to the carriage park when a particularly lovely burst of fireworks lit up the sky. Charlotte had been so busy trying to pick her way over the ill-lit brick walks without stubbing her toes that she hadn’t paid much attention. But now Peter Dewland said in a rather boyish and charming way, “I say, Lady Charlotte! Just look at that!”

A scarlet serpent curled around a large tiger lily, flaming for a moment and falling into broken pieces.

“Oh, how lovely,” she said.

“My brother would love this,” Peter commented, still watching sparkling fragments crumbling into blackness.

“Why didn’t he join us?” Charlotte asked. “Is he too young?”

Peter colored and looked down at his companion, worried that he was boring her. But she looked genuinely interested.