Adelaide listened silently, stroking her daughter’s arm. It was both worse and better than she feared. At least Charlotte had not been raped. But she did seem to have abandoned all of the rules of society in an act of such recklessness that Adelaide’s stomach twisted just to hear about it. Behind the trees! Anyone could have seen them!

“What was his name?” Adelaide asked.

“I don’t know!”

“You don’t know,” Adelaide managed, and then, “Charlotte, he wasn’t one of Squire Brentorton’s footmen, was he?”

Charlotte gulped. “He could have been, Mama.” She began to weep even harder. Details flowed out amid sobs: the ball, silver-black hair, a green domino, the curate, the statue of Narcissus, the lemonade made with poor lemons.

Adelaide’s hand stopped its soothing motion. Who was this man? Charlotte’s description was none too exact, and there were so many gentlemen in London—if he was a gentleman, Adelaide thought bleakly. He certainly hadn’t acted like one. But Charlotte hadn’t acted like a lady, either.

Something nudged the back of her memory, something she’d heard about a young man with silver-shot hair, but she couldn’t quite remember what. They would just have to hope. She decided to send someone to Kent immediately to investigate the masked ball.

Finally Charlotte was cried out, and Adelaide came to a decision. She pushed Charlotte into a sitting position again.

“Now,” she said firmly. “We simply have to forget that this whole incident happened.” She looked into Charlotte’s eyes with every bit of maternal authority she could summon. “You cannot allow your life to be ruined because you had a momentary indiscretion in a garden, Charlotte.

“We have all been indiscreet on occasion. Why—” She paused and looked at her daughter’s innocent eyes. Not so innocent anymore, she reminded herself. This was going to be difficult. She had always thought of Charlotte as the daughter untouched by desire. In fact, she’d probably been much sterner with Violetta, given that Violetta was a girl one might picture enjoying a tryst in the garden! But Charlotte …

“Well, your father and I did exactly what you just did, before we got married. In fact, we weren’t even engaged.”

Charlotte looked at her with a gleam of interest. “You did?”

“We did,” her mother replied. “Not, I am glad to say, in the garden. It was … well, I won’t say where, but I will tell you that it was likely just as uncomfortable as your garden, and only slightly less imprudent. Believe me, child, people do odd things all the time. You were just terribly lucky.” She gave her a brief hug.

“No one knows.” Adelaide looked sternly into Charlotte’s eyes. “If no one knows, then it didn’t happen. Do you hear me, Charlotte?” She gave her a little shake. “It did not happen.”