When Charlotte awoke she lay still for a moment as details of the conversation with her mother dropped back into place in her mind. Finally she stretched, pulling the bell cord next to her bed. Somehow the situation didn’t seem so tragic in the light of day. She swung her feet out of bed and stared absentmindedly at her toes.

Perhaps she didn’t have to give up Alex entirely. She would explain the situation—her mind nimbly evaded the question of how that was going to be aired—and they could continue as they were, with the understanding that marriage was not an option. Charlotte really felt quite pleased with this idea. Wiggling her toes happily, she pictured herself going down the set on Alex’s arm. Maybe she would even go in to dinner with him at the next ball. So far she had made certain she was engaged for dinner before he even appeared (he invariably attended any ball late, just before the doors closed in the case of Almack’s).

When Marie appeared, followed by a puffing footman with a large pail of hot water, she was surprised to find a faintly pink, smiling Charlotte humming and darting about the room.

“I’m going to the theater tonight, Marie,” Charlotte said. “I believe I shall take a ride now, and then I’ll go to Blackwell’s and see if I can find a new novel.” Not that she had any time for reading, but she was between paintings. Who should she paint next? Her mind wandered off into a pleasurable daydream that involved Alex sitting on the couch in her studio. She would lean over him to rearrange his arm … what the imaginary Alex did then made her cheeks turn from pink to rosy. Marie stared at her in amazement.

“And after the bookstore,” Charlotte added hastily, “I would like another bath, Marie. Would you send a message to Monsieur Pamplemousse, please? If he could attend me at some point this evening, I would be grateful.”

Two baths in one day! Marie mentally shook her head. She herself found a semiweekly wash-off to be more than enough. As her mother had often told her, too much water caused water on the lung.

“What would you like to wear tonight, my lady?” she asked.

Charlotte stretched out luxuriously in the large tin tub. “I think I shall wear the white and black gown. You know the one.”

Marie nodded vigorously. It was her favorite of the dresses Lady Charlotte had bought from Madame Carême, although she had yet to see her mistress wear it. Marie looked speculatively at Charlotte. She was wearing that dress for an engagement at the theater? Something important was going to happen tonight.