“I see. But why are you telling me this?”

“I believe we must intervene, for her own sake. She is keeping him right under dear Porty’s nose. You know I cannot abide such subterfuge, especially this kind of deceit.”

“Indeed,” I murmured, battling to keep the irony from my tone. Beyond the absurdity of the situation, I could see an inkling of opportunity. A rather splendid opportunity. “In what way do you think we should intervene?”

“Perhaps you could speak to her?”

I pretended to consider the proposition.

“No, I do not believe I can do so. It is not the manner of our friendship,” I said, my mind conjuring an image of Charlotte when I reported this conversation. It was entirely possible she would wet herself from laughter. I sighed gustily, as if thinking further upon the problem. “Perhaps we should keep them apart as much as possible,” I ventured. “I could suggest Mr. Talbot and I ride out tomorrow. For the day.”

“Yes, that is perfect,” the Ermine said gleefully. “We will keep them apart. I knew I could count upon you, Lady Augusta. God’s law is God’s law, after all, and if Charlotte is too weak to guard her marriage and her soul, then we, as her friends, must take action on her account.”

Too weak? The woman’s presumption—and her obtuseness—was astonishing.

“We are at the ha-ha,” I said, in lieu of my true thoughts. We both looked down the steep step. The impulse to push her off was fleeting but strong. “Shall we go back?”

We turned around, the Ermine taking my arm again. “I am so glad I spoke up, Lady Augusta. Together we will ensure Charlotte does not stray into another unfortunate liaison. Now, let me tell you something I heard about the vicar of this parish. You will be astonished, I assure you.”

•   •   •

In the end, I was the only one of our party to go down to dinner. Hester and Miss Grant had arranged to have trays in their rooms, and my poor Julia had succumbed to the migraine. Even so, when I returned upstairs to dress, she insisted on knowing what had happened. I gave her a quick summary of my meetings with Evan and Emelia—my interview with the Ermine raising a wan smile upon her face—then left her in her darkened room under the tender care of her maid, who knew how to manage her headaches. It occurred to me as I changed my gown that my sister was lately suffering far more of these attacks, and in greater violence. Together with her agitations, it was a worrying progression.

I called in on Charlotte in her boudoir on my way down to the drawing room and gave my report once again, this time to peals of laughter.

“Good Lord,” Charlotte said, wiping her eyes with a manicured fingertip. “The woman is insufferable. Did she really say she warned off Harley?”