Perfectly Flawed (14 page)

"You wouldn't be thinking of a man such as Sir Philip,
perhaps?" Muriel's accusing stare was leveled over Charlotte's shoulder in the mirror.

"A man such as Sir Philip?" Charlotte wished to know
exactly what her sister had meant.

"Do you think that sort of man cares a whit about the
appearance of anyone except himself?" Muriel's gaze
moved down to her hands, busy pinning the edge of
Charlotte's garment. "Honestly, Char-Char, I'm quite
convinced his only concern is the cut of his coat and the
fit of his trousers."

Charlotte could not fault him for his attention to his
appearance. It must take quite a bit of effort to maintain
his image. He traveled without a valet and with limited
apparel, no more than could fit in a bandbox.

"I imagine if he truly cared for me," she uttered, "I
would be cherished above his starched creations."

"Char-Char, you are hopeless!"

"Why do you have such a low opinion of him?" A
second yank to her midsection made Charlotte cry out. "Moo! Why are you pulling so tight? Are you certain
you know what you are doing?"

Muriel glanced at her sister's reflection with a mischievous glimmer in her eye. "Never fear, Char-Char, I
know exactly what I'm doing."

"One might think you were purposely causing me
discomfort!" Charlotte tried to catch her breath.

"Of course not," Muriel denied, as if it were the most
absurd accusation. "That you should compare yourself
to an item of clothing is ridiculous. What makes you
sure he is a man who could care for you-for yourselfjust as your other suitors?"

Charlotte did her best to remain as still as possible.
She did not wish to encourage her sister to mistakenly
place a straight pin into her side. "He makes every effort
to look his best. There is nothing wrong with that. Is
that not what I am doing this very minute?"

"And with good reason. You have a great many men
dangling after you," Muriel reminded her. "I should think
they would take precedence over our unexpected houseguest, who only came upon us by pure chance."

Muriel did have a point. Beyond Charlotte's idyllic
musings that he might be interested in her, he had not
clearly shown any sign of forming an attachment.

"That should be adequate." Muriel admired her work
and stepped back from Charlotte. "I would be quite
shocked to learn that he actually cares for anyone other
than himself. I do not believe he has shown the least
interest in becoming one of your suitors."

That much was true. None of Charlotte's hopeful thoughts or overly optimistic wishes could change Sir
Philip's intentions toward her. She would just have to
admit he did not think of her as anything other than the
daughter of his host.

Muriel sat anxiously in the carriage during the halfhour drive to The Acorns. Once they arrived, Charlotte
might find it difficult or nearly impossible to remove
herself from the squabs. It wasn't the number of straight
pins Muriel used to fasten her sister's dress but the direction in which she lined the pins, or rather, the sharp
ends.

Muriel had placed the needle-sharp ends facing outward in various seams. She did this to protect her sister
from any dancing partner who moved too close to her
or who came into contact with any of those restricted
areas.

The Duke of Faraday stepped into the foyer followed
by his two daughters and their aunt. The Duke had relinquished his hat, cape, and cane. He now stood with some
other gentlemen acquaintances while waiting for the remainder of his party.

Muriel unfastened the clasp at the neck of Charlotte's
mantle, while Charlotte's cloak seemed to have snagged
upon the shoulder of her gown.

"I think one of my pins must have caught on the lining." Charlotte turned to inspect her garment.

Muriel moved very quickly, tossing off her outerwear,
and rushed to her sister's side. "Allow me to check." She moved Charlotte's hands aside and made a thorough inspection. "Never fear, everything is as it should be."

"Let us move along, girls," Aunt Penny urged her
nieces, guiding them from the foyer toward the ballroom.
They waited at the door until they were announced.

Muriel admired her sister under the light of the sparkling crystal chandeliers. The soft white silk of her
dress with the slight hint of pink accentuated the attractive blush upon her cheeks and brought out the clear,
bright blue of her wide eyes.

"I do beg your pardon, Aunt Penny." Muriel had backed
into her aunt while stepping out of the way of a half
dozen young bucks who dashed toward her sister. "I
wonder which lucky man will partner Char-Char for
the first dance?"

"I believe it should prove very interesting," said Aunt
Penny, paying rapt attention to the interactions around
her.

Across the room, Muriel spied Sir Philip in conversation with several men. A few of them were Charlotte's suitors, but apparently not as ardent as the ones
who had just nearly trampled her in their pursuit of her
sister.

Although Muriel did not stand among them, she
was privy to their conversation. She watched them
carefully as they spoke, observing their every word, or
nearly so.

"I am not convinced these tales are true," Sir Philip
told them, tapping his quizzing glass on his cheek.

"I cannot verify the tale to be true, but I have heard it
said she suffers from weak eyes," Lord Oscar told them.

"Weak? She cannot see beyond her fingertips!" a
gentleman sporting a violet waistcoat nearly matching
the color of his blackened eye announced.

"I have heard it is only one of many afflictions," Sir
Hugh Linville corrected. "I do not find it disturbing in
the least. Hardly noticeable, I say."

"Hardly noticeable?" Local gentry Mr. Lawrence
balked at the baronet's words. "The eye is glass, pure and
simple. If you were to gaze into them both, one could
clearly see the difference. The right eye, although a most
beautiful but not at all realistic color, does not by half
match the true blue hue of her left!"

"Most gents seem to agree completely!" The speaker
gestured to those gentlemen standing across the room
surrounding Charlotte, trying to secure a dance.

"It don't matter," said Sir Hugh. "The girl's simply a
vision. What does it matter if she-" He now had his
back to Muriel, causing her to miss what he said next.

"What about her hearing?" the man with the violet
waistcoat put forward for discussion.

"Hearing? She's hardly deaf, my man." Sir Hugh came
to Charlotte's defense yet again. "She merely has difficulty with her hearing in her left ear."

"If any one of these other lovely young ladies happened to suffer the same ailment, I warrant they'd rather
breathe their last than make that confession, don't you
know."

Sir Philip did not appear shocked at the news, keeping his facade impassive. At least word of Charlotte's
infirmities had finally made their way to him.

"Lady Muriel." Sir Samuel, who stood before her, having called her name once, spoke louder. "You are quite
beautiful this evening. I daresay when it is time for your
come-out, you shall cause as much of a stir as your sisters."

"There is no need to waste such a heartfelt compliment on me, Sir Samuel," Muriel scolded him, albeit
playfully.

"Acknowledging beauty is never wasted." A bow of
his head conveyed his sincerity. "Would you honor me
with the first dance?"

"It is nothing personal, my dear friend. I confess
there must be some young lady who would actually enjoy dancing, especially with you."

Their hostess, Lady Hopkins, followed by two young
ladies, approached. The three of them eyed Sir Samuel
with more than casual interest. Muriel took a half-step
forward, shielding him from their prying gazes.

"Allow me to make known to you my daughter
Margaret's very good friends from Town," Lady Hopkins began.

That was when Muriel and Sir Samuel became acquainted with Lady Julia Monroe and Miss Sophie
Prichard. Sir Samuel's further misfortune led to his first
dance with Miss Prichard. Lady Hopkins went on her
way, leaving Muriel to stand with Lady Julia.

"The lovely Lady Charlotte is your sister?" Lady Julia's
gaze moved from Muriel to Charlotte, who now stood up
with Lord Henry. "I believe I can understand why the
whole of London has relocated to this village. She is very
lovely and so very graceful."

The attention of all who overheard their conversation
focused upon the dance floor where, to Muriel's embarrassment, Charlotte promptly stumbled.

Lady Julia gasped, crying out.

Muriel merely gazed toward the heavens. In the future, her sister would be known as the very lovely and
not so graceful Charlotte.

"I wonder if you might oblige me, m'dear." The pompous intonation of the familiar, of the superfluous, of the
one and only Sir Philip addressed her. He held up his
hand, staying Muriel's unwanted reply. "I have already
had the extreme pleasure of making Lady Julia's acquaintance. I thank you."

So there was no puffing him off on her. Lady Julia
stood there wide-eyed and seemingly more than willing to accept the baronet's attentions, only to be disappointed.

"I feel I must honor my host by extending the courtesy
of dancing with his daughter." Sir Philip glanced around,
clearly looking for Charlotte.

Had he no notion that all Charlotte's dances were
taken? If by chance Charlotte learned of Sir Philip's
desire to partner her, she might do the unthinkable and
arrange to accommodate his request.

Muriel would make the ultimate sacrifice for her sister by dancing, an exercise that she admittedly loathed,
with Sir Philip, whom she loathed more.

"Thank you, sir. I should be delighted." Muriel was
far from any thought of satisfaction when it came to
sharing company with Sir Philip.

"You?" he cried, undoubtedly not pleased, but he could
not have been more unhappy than Muriel herself. "Very
well. Shall we take this opportunity to make our way
closer to the dance floor?"

She placed her gloved hand upon his and they stepped
toward the center of the room. How Muriel dreaded his
company. It was for the greater good, she told herself.
Repeatedly.

Sir Philip chuckled, surely not with delight.

"What is it?" It surprised Muriel to see his normally
unpleasant, stoic visage transformed into a pleasant, almost agreeable expression.

"If there were a contest to see who had the tallest
shirt points, I daresay Lord Wells and Sir Evelyn Harrison would win." Sir Philip pointed out two gentlemen
standing on the other side of the room. "If one should
lean close and whisper to the other, I think someone's
eye would be put out"

Men's apparel humor. It was not in the least amusing
to Muriel.

"Look there, I believe Lord Stanton has designs upon
your sister." Sir Philip might have thought his voice held
a trace of apathy, but Muriel detected a protective quality in his tone.

Lord Stanton hovered near the dancers, obviously eager to partner Charlotte for the next set. Lord Henry's
stern glances to the awaiting Lord Stanton warned him
not to approach. His posture stiffened perceptively, and
it appeared he was no longer enjoying himself on the
dance floor.

Noting the silent drama, Sir Philip remarked, "You
should not wish me to remain here idle. You cannot intervene, but I may upon your request." He tensed, ready
to leap to Charlotte's aid.

"You'll do no such thing." Muriel thought it shocking
he should act as her sister's champion.

Lord Henry extended his arm behind Charlotte, unwilling to relinquish his limited possession of her during his promised dance. "Odd's fish!" he cried, pulling
away from her as if bitten, and rubbed his forearm.

Charlotte leaped from him at his oath.

Muriel hid behind her open fan, partially out of a
small measure of guilt and partially so no one could see
her laugh.

"What goes on there?" Sir Philip raised his quizzing
glass to observe the commotion.

The straight pins Muriel had placed in her sister's bodice had succeeded in keeping the gentlemen at a proper
distance, and the ball was just getting started.

Charlotte wondered if he had been looking at her. She
could have hoped for as much, but doubted it. Sir Philip
stood with Muriel, and it appeared as if they were waiting to take their places for the next dance.

Why had he asked Muriel? Even more impossible to
understand was why her sister had accepted.

Charlotte would have loved to stand across from him,
pass close to him during the steps of the dance, near
enough to smell his cologne and feel the warmth of his
hand against hers. But it was not to be.

"Lady Charlotte?" Lord Stanton nearly shouted at her,
for he had called to her several times and she had rudely
not even noticed.

"I am sorry, my lord." Charlotte had been caught
staring at another man. She would hate to admit such an
indiscretion to one of her most attentive suitors. "You
inquire about your dance?" With a gift of a smile she
extended her gloved hand. "Yes, it is indeed time."

Charlotte took his arm and they stepped forward to
take their place with the other couples. She stood across
from him for the country dance. Glancing down the
line, she spied Sir Philip, realizing he was only a few
couples down.

He was, as always, immaculately dressed, from the
crisp folds of his cravat against the black evening dress
with silver waistcoat and white breeches to the clocked
stockings and spotless black dancing slippers.

The music began. The dancers bowed to their partners. She stepped toward Lord Stanton and back into
the ladies' line.

Charlotte turned away, taking the hand of the other
gentleman in her foursome. Still she could not keep her
attention from wandering to Sir Philip.

She caught her slipper, which nearly sent her to the
floor. This had not been the first time this evening.