Try as she might, Charlotte could not get Lord Withington out of her mind. She should not be thinking of him at all, given how poorly he had treated her, but she found herself almost constantly thinking of him.

He had been so warm towards her, only for his demeanor to turn quite cool as he had attempted to hurry her back inside. Did he truly believe that she would have cried foul in an attempt to make it look as though she were compromised? That said very little about how well he thought of her. He must consider her fickle and capricious, apparently desperate for a husband and willing to try to wed the wealthiest one she could at whatever cost.

Her lips thinned. She could not bear thinking of it and yet, there he was, still in her thoughts.

It probably would not hurt so much if you did not find yourself so drawn to him.

The quiet voice in her head made her pause, her heart slowly sinking into her stomach. She did not want to admit that she found the marquess attractive, but there was no denying it. He was handsome and amiable, and their conversations—although brief—had been pleasant enough. She had hoped to get to know him a little better over the course of the next few weeks, but after his behavior towards her the prior evening, she was not quite sure what to do.

And yet, there was something in what he had done. It was a peculiar thing to simply turn around and begin to drag your partner back indoors, worrying that they were going to cry compromise. Had something happened to him that had made him believe she would do so? His change in demeanor had been so swift that even now she was a little overwhelmed by it. Was it worth giving him a chance to explain?

“He will need to apologize first,” she determined crossly. “Then, we shall see.”

“You!”

The door flew open, slamming hard against the wall and, as Charlotte lifted her head, she saw Lady Emma standing, framed, in the doorway. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes blazing and lips pulled into a tight line.

“Lady Emma,” Charlotte replied, calmly, ignoring the winding spiral of anxiety in her chest. “Is something the matter?”

“You are a conniving little schemer, that is what is the matter!” Lady Emma screeched, storming into the room and coming closer to Charlotte. “How dare you try and steal the marquess?”

Charlotte stared at her, wondering if her stepsister had lost her head. “What are you talking about, Emma?” she asked, dropping her stepsister’s formal title. “I certainly am not trying to steal anyone.”

“I saw you!” Lady Emma cried, her cheeks burning bright red. “You went out and the marquess followed. What are you trying to do? Have a secret liaison with him in the hope of catching his hand?”

Charlotte rose to her feet, an uncomfortable sensation rippling up her spine. “Emma,” she said, as evenly as she could, “I went out for a breath of fresh air, and the marquess simply happened to come out around the same time as I did. It was not intentional. I think he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.” She was determined not to lose her temper in front of her stepsister, even though her fingers slowly began to curl into fists.

“Liar!” Lady Emma shouted, unexpectedly slapping Charlotte hard across the face. “I know you are trying to entrap him! He is not for you, Charlotte!”

Staggering back, Charlotte pressed one hand to her cheek, stunned at what her stepsister had done. However, she was not about to give in to tears, even though they pressed heavily against her eyes.

“How often do I have to tell you to stay away from those of my acquaintance?” Lady Emma hissed, looking quite unrepentant. “That includes the marquess, Charlotte.”

Charlotte dropped her hand from her cheek and gazed at her stepsister, lifting her chin. “But the marquess is not acquainted with you, Emma. In fact, he is only really acquainted with me. Although I should probably thank you for locking me in that room. If you had not, then he might never have found me, and I would not have had the pleasure of his company.” A sardonic smile tugged at her lips, satisfaction growing in her chest as she saw Lady Emma’s eyes narrow. “And, no matter how many times you warn me, I will speak to whomever I choose. You do not have any rights over me, Emma. I am not your father. I will not bow to your iron will, just because you desire it.”

For a moment, there was a brief silence and Charlotte felt a sense of triumph. It was not long lasting, however, for Lady Emma let out a blood-curdling scream and launched herself at Charlotte who, not expecting it in the least, fell heavily to the floor. Lady Emma screamed vehement curses down on Charlotte’s head, scratching wildly, pulling her hair for all she was worth and trying her best to inflict as much pain as possible.

“Lady Emma!”

At the sound of Lady Perrin’s voice, Lady Emma stopped her vicious onslaught almost at once. Bruised and sore all over, Charlotte closed her eyes and waited until Lady Emma rose to her feet, completely stunned over what had just occurred. Apparently, Lady Emma was not used to having such a strong force of will going against her own.

“What in heavens name do you think you are doing?” Lady Perrin asked, striding over and grasping Lady Emma’s arm, dragging her away from Charlotte. “My goodness, child. This is beyond the pale!”

“She has no intention of leaving the marquess alone!” Lady Emma shrieked, her skin now blotchy and red. “She wants him for herself; she is trying everything she can to make herself his bride.”

“Enough!” Lady Perrin exclaimed, holding out her hand to Charlotte, who got to her feet carefully. “My goodness, what have you done to your stepsister?”

Charlotte tried to smile but discovered that her mouth was sore and split and that she could taste blood. “I will not do what you ask, Lady Emma,” she mumbled, touching her lip delicately. “I have every right to speak to whomever I choose. After all, you are not the only one who considers matrimony in their future.”

Lady Emma lunged for her again, only for Lady Perrin to step in, blocking her way.

“I think it best you return to your chamber, Lady Emma,” she said firmly, grasping her arm and walking her to the door.

Despite Lady Emma’s howls of protest, Lady Perrin practically frogmarched her from the room, closing the door behind them both.

Charlotte collapsed into a chair, not quite sure what to do. She did not want to ring the bell for the maid, knowing that rumors would spread like wildfire should she do so. She had never once thought that Lady Emma would ever physically attack her, but apparently, she did not know her stepsister as well as she thought.

And yet, Charlotte was not swayed in her determination to continue her acquaintance with the marquess, as well as with any other gentlemen she chose. She knew that, at some point, she would need to marry and certainly was not going to be a quiet wallflower until Lady Emma found herself her own husband first.

“My goodness, I do not know what has come over that girl.” Lady Perrin stepped back into the room, carrying a tray with a bowl of water and a few cloths. “I am terribly sorry, Charlotte.”

“It is not your doing,” Charlotte replied, as Lady Perrin sat opposite her, looking at her with a concerned eye. “Is it very bad?”

Lady Perrin did not immediately answer, putting the cloth into the bowl and soaking it for a moment. “Once we have cleaned up the blood and sorted your hair, then I do not think it shall look as unsightly as it does now,” she said eventually, in her usual practical manner. “But I am going to have to consider what to do with Lady Emma.” She shook her head, her lips a thin line. “I have never seen her lose her temper in such a way as this. Thank goodness her father is not here.”

Charlotte sighed heavily, letting out a loud hiss as Lady Perrin began to delicately wipe the deep scratches on her cheek. “She does not want me to go near those she considers potential husbands,” she said softly. “I know the easy answer would be to do as she asks, but—”

“No, you must not do that,” Lady Perrin said firmly, her eyes fixed on Charlotte’s face. “You have your own happiness to consider.” She regarded Charlotte carefully for a moment. “The Marquess of Withington, is it? The one who found you in that room?”

Charlotte blushed despite herself. “Yes, Lady Emma does not want me near him. I think she was upset because she saw him follow me out to the gardens last evening and made an incorrect assumption.” She closed her eyes tightly, wincing as blood was cleaned from her mouth. “The marquess simply wanted a little fresh air and was surprised to find me there, I believe.”

“And you talked for a time?”

Charlotte nodded, glancing down at the blood and seeing the tinge of red swirling through it. Clearly, Lady Emma had been more than a little severe with her attack. “It was nothing improper, although I should not have been alone with him, I know.”

“Well, that aside, I will only encourage you in your acquaintance with him,” Lady Perrin said calmly. “The marquess appears to be a good man by all accounts, and if he is interested in you, then that can only be a good thing.”

Charlotte tried to smile, her mind filling with how he had been so suddenly dismissive of her. Should she tell Lady Perrin about that? Or was it best for it to remain her own?

“I shall speak to Emma,” Lady Perrin continued, not giving her an opportunity to discuss the marquess further. “I am afraid she will have to be punished. I cannot let this,” she indicated the marks on Charlotte’s face, “go without some sort of penalty. Although I must say that I think it best for you remain indoors for a time, until your face has healed.”

“Of course,” Charlotte agreed, ignoring the spiral of disappointment in her chest. “I do not want any rumors to start, not when it would affect my mother and stepfather.”

Lady Perrin put down the cloth and patted her hand. “You are very good, Charlotte. You see things so clearly, and I am appreciative of your willingness to keep gossip from our door, although I am sorry you will miss a few events.”

Charlotte shrugged, trying to make the best of it. “It will not be too much, I assure you. You may claim that I have a headache or some such thing.”

Lady Perrin bit her lip. “Although I should not leave Emma with you alone,” she mumbled, half to herself. Clearing her throat, she gave Charlotte a small smile and got to her feet. “Speaking of, I should go and ensure Emma has calmed down. I was not able to talk to her when she was in such a state, but hopefully—by now—things have settled a little.” She gave Charlotte a somewhat anxious glance. “Are you going to be all right? Should I send for the tea tray?”

“A tea tray would be lovely. I thank you,” Charlotte replied, smiling so as to assuage the lady’s anxiety. “I think I will read for a while, to calm myself a little.”

“Very wise,” Lady Perrin agreed, with a quick smile. “I will not be long in returning. Thank you for your forbearance, Charlotte. It is greatly appreciated, I assure you.”