Page 25 of A Perilous Passion

Mama, on the other hand, was in great good humor, exclaiming, “Charlotte dear, such news!”

“Why’s the room in such a mess?” she asked warily. “Has something happened?”

“Oh, nothing to take alarm at. Something delightful, in fact. You’ll never guess!”

Charlotte, her letter looming like a storm cloud in her mind, was in no mood for a guessing game. “Mama, please just tell me.”

“No need to be so Friday-faced, child. Life’s not only about visiting noisome neighbors, mending, and worrying about credit notes, you know. Sometimes there’s pleasure to be had, and quite out of the blue.”

Her mother being cheerful was nearly as irritating as her mother being difficult. “What pleasure?” Charlotte persisted in annoyance.

“We’ve been invited to a ball!”

She blinked in surprise. “A ball?”

“Indeed,” confirmed Aunt Flora. “I’m not sure I should go, mind. It’s been so long since I attended such a thing, I won’t know what to say. Or I’ll forget the dance steps.”

“I’ll help you, Aunt,” Charlotte promised.

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?”