Wistfully, she folded the note and placed it in the box with the jewelry, carefully sliding them all into the back of her drawer and adding two small tomes in front of it to keep the gift hidden. Then she readied herself for her bath and slipped into the warm water, relaxing against the back of the tub. The jasmine soap smelled delightful. She lathered up her hands, washing first her legs, then her arms before moving to the rest of her body.
Closing her eyes, Charlotte sunk further into the water and contemplated her future once more. Something could be said for being the wife of a wealthy earl. Perhaps Mama and Jason could come and live with her, at least until she was certain that her new husband could gain guardianship over her brother. Nibbling her lower lip, she realized with renewed clarity the value of the gift her Evan had just sent her. It was a promise of protection, something she needed at this time in her life. They needed each other for different reasons, she mused.
When did he become Evan to her? She recalled having heard his first marriage was a love match. She thought about the gift and the note. This will be a marriage of convenience, but could there be a chance for more? What about his drinking? The image of her brother almost getting hit by his carriage flashed through her mind. She needed to forgive him to allow their marriage a proper chance. Could she?
Lingering, she waited until the water was almost cold before finally standing and drying herself. She needed to protect the opportunity Mrs. Dove-Lyon had secured for her and was determined to look at her impending nuptials differently.
Jane would be back in mere minutes. Charlotte credited this as the most enjoyable bath she could remember. She craved the solitude, wishing she had a little more time to reread the note Evan had written her. Distractedly, she tried out his name on her lips. “Evan.” She enjoyed the sound and the way it rolled off her tongue so easily. She could admit to an attraction to him, although she was unwilling to concede it to anyone else, especially him. Is it contrived? she wondered. Could there possibly be a chance for the two of them in a marriage forced by convenience? Should she speak with him about the alcohol?
Loud voices coming from downstairs heralded her uncle’s arrival. She heard a strange voice. Did he have someone with him? Worried but not understanding why, she rushed herself from the tub and drew behind the screen in her room. Next time she bathed, she would have Jane place this between the tub and the door. There will be no next time, ninny. You will be married, she chastised herself. Adjusting to her new circumstances was proving difficult.
Footsteps stomped up to the door. Her uncle! She threw her chemise over her head, shivering from not being able to fully dry. At least the room had warmed.
Three raps on the door announced Jane, who slipped into the room and turned the lock on the door behind her. “It is me, my lady,” she whispered loudly. “Your uncle is here and is demanding to see you in the study. I locked the door behind me in case he forgot himself.”
“Thank you, Jane. I cannot imagine what he wants with me. Umph! Can you help me with this?” Charlotte stopped trying to pull the laces to her corset and turned around for Jane.
Jane began securing the corset strings.
Charlotte leaned against the doorframe and could feel the familiar routine of the laces being tightened one space at a time. Jane was fast.
“Lean in, and I will slide the dress over your head.” Jane had selected a muted gray merino trimmed in lace with three delicate rows of small seed pearls centered on the bodice. The sleeves were loose and gathered at the wrist with a small band of lace on the bottom. The dress fell perfectly over her curves.
Once the back ribbon was secured, Charlotte began to feel warmer. “Can we put my hair up in a simple fashion? I think I should have washed it, but with the commotion downstairs, I rushed out of the tub to begin dressing.”
“Yes, my lady, I will pull it up into a chignon with some curls.”
The doorknob jiggled, followed by a loud knock. “Lady Charlotte, are you in there?”
It was her uncle. “I am not presentable at the moment, Uncle.”
A loud harrumph. “See that you show yourself in five minutes in my study.”
Papa’s study, she contradicted silently, furrowing her brow in anger. “Yes, Uncle.” She kept her tone flat. What could this be about?
“There you go, my lady.” Jane stepped back, pleased with her work. She grabbed the silver-backed looking glass and held it up from behind Charlotte’s head so she could see her hair in her mirror.
“I have never seen this particular style, Jane. You are always so efficient and make my hair look lovely! You are such a treasure,” Charlotte murmured as she studied her perfection.
“You best slip your shoes on and get downstairs, my lady. I will tidy your room.”
Charlotte gave a quick glance to her nightstand, satisfied that she had hidden her gift. Jane had forgotten to ask about it, something which now pleased her to no end. She was not in the habit of lying to her family and staff and felt a bit in over her head today. Pinching her cheeks, she stepped into a pair of gray satin slippers. Giving a quick tremulous smile at Jane, she rushed out the door and down the stairs.
“Charlotte!” Mama whispered her name loudly from a slight crack in the parlor door.
She stopped and stood near the door. “Do you know what Uncle is wanting?” Charlotte whispered. Her body felt taut with tension.
“I believe I overheard him say something about you being out without a
