Chloe shook her head. “I don’t think so. My father actually liked him—he said that Will, Lord Holland, had a better head for commerce than the average flimsy nobleman—oh, Charlotte, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you … or anyone.” Her voice shrank to a whisper. “The truth is, the baron must have decided he couldn’t go through with it, that’s all. It’s one thing to have to marry a fortune, but it’s another to contemplate marrying the daughter of a cit. I think he just couldn’t bring himself to propose to me, and so he went to the country.”

Charlotte gave her a swift hug. Then she got up and pulled her portrait around so that it was facing the couch.

“Chloe van Stork,” she said firmly. “Look at my painting.” Chloe looked. “Do you really think that Will would be able to resist the idea of marrying this woman?” Chloe looked, but she didn’t see the delicate appeal in her own blue eyes, the effortless nobility of her high cheekbones and narrow shoulders, the tempered hint of sexual passion in her full red lips.

“Yes,” she said.

“Well, you’re wrong.” Chloe absorbed this in silence. “Will is coming to our wedding,” Charlotte added.

The Earl of Sheffield and Downes was marrying with more pomp and circumstance than had been seen in London for years. The invitation list to the wedding was rigorously controlled, winnowed down to peers and special friends of the bride or groom. That alone ensured that every person with any claim to being a member of the ton was dying for an invitation and so far only two invitations had been declined. Charlotte couldn’t move outside the house without being mobbed by reporters from The Tatler and The Gazette; there was even a semipermanent gossip column in The Tatler dedicated to speculation over her wedding dress, honeymoon, and future life (childless or not?).

“Now,” Charlotte said practically. “What are you going to wear to the wedding?” Chloe shook her head. To be honest, she hadn’t decided yet whether to attend the ceremony. Her parents had firmly declined their invitation, although they were inordinately pleased to have been invited. If she attended the ceremony, she would have to be chaperoned by Sissy and her parents. But she hadn’t thought to wear anything special. What did it matter? Will clearly wasn’t in London. Now her heart began to beat quickly. She would see him in three days.

“Oh, no!” Chloe said in agony. “It’s too late to get a dress … I’ll have to wear one of these.” She plucked at the heavy twill again.