Page 127 of A Perilous Passion

At the same time, her mama chimed in, “You could always try taking a dose of Dr. L. E. Campaign’s Wonder Nostrum before you go.”

Aunt Flora paled and turned her head away.

With a quelling glance at her mama, Charlotte sank into a chair. “But we can’t go to a ball. We’re not gentlefolk. We don’t have the clothes, the connections—”

“When I say a ball, I actually mean an assembly,” her mother qualified. “It’s at the Dorchester Assembly Rooms, so nothing too fine. But it’s all quite gratis, sponsored by Lord Culverdale. See? He’s sent us vouchers. It’ll be a sad crush, I fear, for the Culverdales are generous, and will no doubt have invited everyone in the county.”

“I wonder why they’re doing it,” Charlotte mused, vaguely astonished at so much generosity.

“To cheer us all up, I imagine,” her mama replied. “It’s been so dismal lately, with all this worry about Napoleon sailing over the Channel, and the fear of highwaymen and such operating beneath our very noses.”

“Like the footpad who haunts the heath,” Flora said gloomily.

Charlotte thought of Rafe and all the warnings he’d plagued her with about that very thing. Mama was right—they were living in dangerous times, and in a dangerous area.

She couldn’t see how going to a ball was going to help, though. All she’d be thinking about was the fact Rafe wouldn’t be there.

Or Justin, of course.

Her fingers closed around the letter in her pocket and she felt a stab of guilt. Bother this ball! Mama clearly wanted to talk about it, and she wouldn’t be able to escape for ages.

What if Justin’s news was urgent? What if he needed her help?

She sat on the edge of her seat and assumed an air of calm she was far from feeling. “When is this great event to be held?” she asked.

“On September twenty-third, with supper at nine and dancing until two.”

“Surely, everyone will be too exhausted and hot to dance that late,” Flora murmured.

“Not necessarily,” said Mama. “I’m sure there’ll be ices. Culverdale has his own icehouse, you know. And we won’t be wearing much.”

Charlotte sat forward, incredulous. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

Her mother smiled broadly. “It’s a masked ball with a classical theme. I’m sure that is a great condescension on Lady Culverdale’s part, to ensure no one need feel uncomfortable about their costume. The guests can make do with simple bed sheets, pinned and draped over their underclothes.”

Good lord.

Perhaps this ball would be more entertaining than she thought. She tried to imagine the buxom Thea Daniell in a Grecian tunic, and smiled. The style would actually suit her friend. “But wouldn’t a costumed masque be more the thing?”

“You need to keep up with the fashions more,” replied her mother with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Instead of mooning over that wretched Justin Jessop, or wandering around with your head in the clouds thinking up poetry, and other frivolous pursuits, you should be looking at fashion magazines or reading about the royal princesses.”

Charlotte glanced up sharply. Why was Mama talking about Justin? She couldn’t possibly know about the letter. Could she?

“Child, you’re looking very flushed. Go and fetch yourself a drink of water. When you return, we can look at the theatrical masks Lady Culverdale sent us to go with our classical dress. I’m quite at a loss which to choose. But I suppose you must choose first. There’ll be many eligible gentlemen at the assembly, I’m certain, so you must look your absolute best.”

Rising to obediently fetch some water, Charlotte pointed out that if everyone was masked, she was hardly likely to know which were the eligible gentlemen. Nor would the gentlemen be able to detect who she was, and thus know she was young and, as yet, unspoken for.

Not that her prospects for making a good marriage were very high. In fact, with her past, they were practically nonexistent.

“I can’t help but think there is something a bit improper about a masked ball,” Charlotte said. “Matrons might dress like maids, those with better figures easily passing for much younger, and thus trap unwary young gentlemen. Persons of wealth rubbing elbows with those of lesser status, possibly leading to highly unsuitable liaisons.”

Mama laughed. “All these years I’ve thought my daughter wild and wayward, but here you are, fretting about the impropriety of a masked ball. Lest you become a complete milk-and-water miss, I insist you attend this ball with as much enthusiasm as you can muster. You have my permission, and Flora’s, to thoroughly enjoy yourself without fear of condemnation. I’ll do my best to recognize the gallants beneath the masks and steer you in the direction of the most suitable. Now, get your water and go for a lie-down, child. You look quite done in.”

Thank heavens! Finally, an opportunity to read Justin’s letter. She fetched her water and scurried upstairs, scarcely able to breathe in anticipation.

Chapter Eleven

My dearest, most precious Charlotte,