Perfectly Flawed (11 page)

Muriel noticed how beautiful Charlotte appeared standing next to the handsome major in his regimentals. The
pink blush on her cheeks, the blue of her eyes, the green of
her dress and matching grosgrain ribbon tied in a bow,
draped from her golden curls piled high on the back of her
head, made her the visual embodiment of spring.

The gentlemen continued to file in. Some stopped to
speak with Susan, most moved directly to Charlotte, and
all continued to behave themselves. No raised voices,
heightened tempers, or pummeling fists.

Without a doubt, a good number of them were strategizing how to secure the front-row seats. If Muriel was
not mistaken, Sir Nicholas, who stood off to one side with
two other gentlemen, might be laying odds on that very
prospect. If her father were at home, the baronet would
have found himself escorted from the premises and none
too gently, for he had been reprimanded for wagering on
several occasions.

Muriel could not be certain what truly occupied him,
but the hushed conversation and surreptitious glances
made his conduct all the more suspect.

Within twenty minutes, the guests were seated, quiet,
and awaiting the start of the first musical piece. Muriel
took her position, with flute in hand, behind Susan, who
sat at the pianoforte. Off to one side, money passed hands
from a small group of gentlemen to Sir Nicholas.

Charlotte moved toward the harp, readying herself to play. She tugged at the fingers of her glove, and the gentlemen silenced, sitting alert. There was an audible intake
of breath when she drew off her left glove.

One might have thought they'd never seen a lady
remove gloves before. A bare hand was not, in any way,
risque. Yet the men behaved as if she had raised the
hem of her skirts, allowing them to view her ankle.

The performances were well received. Following the
Mozart, Bach, and Vivaldi selections, Muriel and Susan
moved aside. Charlotte sat at the pianoforte and began
to play the final piece.

After a three-measure introduction, she sang. Her clear,
heart-melting, sweet soprano rose above the audience, just
out of their reach. All the gentlemen bore similar smitten
expressions with their eyes widened, quite transfixed with
the angelic quality of her voice. They sat tall in their
chairs, chins tilted up to catch the ethereal notes.

When Muriel glanced beyond the last row, she saw him
there, peering in from the rear of the room. Dressed in his
traveling clothes, belcher scarf, brown jacket, buckskins,
and hat in hand, he appeared much as a country gentlemen and not the usual dandified dress she'd expected.

Sir Philip had not been expected, but there he stood.
He looked upon Charlotte with adoration. His usual
dour smirk dissolved to the same serene, love-struck
expression as those of the other gentlemen. The emotion
must have caught him by surprise, for he staggered back
from the door frame and disappeared, withdrawing from
sight.

As much as his departure pleased her, Muriel was afraid she had witnessed something remarkable-the
very moment Sir Philip fell in love with Charlotte.

Philip pushed off the door frame and moved away from
the Music Room. He could not yet force himself to pull
his gaze from the sight of Lady Charlotte sitting at the
keyboard of the pianoforte, no more than he could prevent himself from hearing the sweet notes. It was an image he'd not soon forget if ever-nor the unexpected
feeling that came forth from the sound of her voice.

He had come late, but not too late to experience the
profound effect of her performance. It had captured the
attention of the gentlemen who sat spellbound, captivated by Lady Charlotte's beauty and all her unexpected
musical glory.

The stirring of emotion within Philip was one he had
never felt before. He did not wished to acknowledge its
existence because he feared what it meant.

It hadn't taken long. Less than a full measure? A few
notes? Perhaps all it took was the rest between two notes.
Those poor males trapped before her, in their seats, unable to move or escape from her presence.

Philip had learned only hours ago a new facet of this
glorious diamond that made her now quite irresistible to
him. She was not all mere musical talent and unparalleled beauty.

Farmer Gilbert had told Philip how he and his neighbors missed Lady Charlotte's visits. It had only been
a few days since Bloxwich had been overrun by the
London swells who had descended upon Faraday Hall. The Duke's middle daughter had more than enough to
occupy her time, yet she managed, in her absence, to arrange for delivery of her food baskets to those in need.

The young lady was truly in possession of a kind heart.

Philip had learned from Gilbert how, this last spring,
she had come into his home when his wife Stella took
ill with the fever. She'd immediately sent for Stella's
sister, and while it took nearly a week, Lady Charlotte
had seen to his children's care. At times she looked after
the tykes herself. Apparently, this had not been the first
or only time she had taken it upon herself to come to the
aid of a tenant.

One would never guess she possessed such kindness
that might only be rivaled by her social graces. Her qualities made her a woman he could truly love. On the other
hand, there was no reason for her to look to Philip with
fondness. It was clear that all these men seated before
Charlotte vied for her interest.

Philip turned from the sight of her sitting at the pianoforte and realized his opinion of her had not mattered.
Love should not be a contest, and with so many others
competing for her favor, Philip had little hope that mutual
affection between them would ever become evident.

After playing the final notes, Charlotte pulled her hands
from the keyboard to a round of applause. The gentlemen were very kind. She felt a bit self-conscious singing
before an audience, because she thought her voice
sounded a bit thin and squeaky, but they seemed to enjoy it, or else they were prodigiously polite. But reassur ances from Muriel, Susan, and Aunt Penny had convinced
her she was in error. One could not judge one's own
voice. She moved from the pianoforte and curtsied.

"Brava, Lady Charlotte!" several of the guests called
out.

"Encore!" cried several more.

Charlotte smiled, pleased they had enjoyed her performance, and motioned for Susan and Muriel to join her
at the head of the room. The three stood together with
Charlotte in the center and bowed, concluding their performance.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Aunt Penny interrupted,
and the room fell into a hush. "If you all will be so
good as to remove to the east lawn, we will be serving
tea."

There was a scuffle as the young men from the front
row jostled for the chance to escort Charlotte.

"Sir Edwin, Major Dunham ... there will be no violence," Charlotte reminded them. Her soft-spoken words
quieted any disturbance.

Both gentlemen before her touched the bruises healing on their faces. This had not been their first altercation, she'd vow.

"Lord Henry, Mr. Emery, if you please." She met
each of their gazes, confirming she had indeed chosen
them for the honor of escorting her.

"Mr. Emery," Lord Henry acknowledged, inclining
his head.

With equal respect, Mr. Emery returned the gesture.
"Lord Henry," he returned.

The two gentlemen proudly offered Charlotte their
arms for her escort.

Order and civility could be maintained, Charlotte reassured herself. The three of them led the company to
the east lawn, where tables and chairs were clustered in
threes and fours. The gentlemen would be seated, and it
remained for the ladies to circulate among them, spending several minutes socializing with each group.

Susan approached Charlotte after nearly an hour had
passed. "Char-Char, your hair ribbon is missing!"

Charlotte reached to the back of her head to discover
that her ribbon was indeed absent. "Oh dear, that was
one of my favorites!"

Lord Oscar leaped from his seat. "I shall find your
ribbon for you, my lady."

"I shall be the one to retrieve your hair ornament,
Lady Charlotte," Mr. Hughes replied.

"No, I shall be the one to find your ribbon!" Sir Wilfred shouted out.

"Why do you not offer a reward for the one who finds
it? Just as you had for the victor of the footrace?" some
clever gentleman shouted from the right.

It was a worthy suggestion, one Charlotte would not
necessarily have thought of on her own. She glanced at
her sister.

With an impish smile and a nod of her head, Muriel
urged her to consent.

"Very well, gentlemen, if that is what you all truly
wish." Charlotte glanced around, regarding them. This
was not at all what she had planned for the afternoon.

They shouted their approval. The gentlemen had
taken to their feet, excited to begin the new quest.

"I would like it returned, in any case." Charlotte would
need to think up some suitable reward. "Whoever finds
my green ribbon will be rewarded with-" She paused,
considering what should be chosen for the prize. "I shall
reveal a second secret, something of a personal nature, to
the gentleman who returns my wayward ribbon."

The men cheered and disbursed, running from her in
all directions. Charlotte thought they might have feared
a second revelation, a second horrifying bit about her, a
second blemish to accompany her wayward eye.

What type of imperfection would she possess? If
Charlotte could not invent a believable blemish soon,
she would need to consult Muriel, who would certainly
have a suitable answer.

You mean to tell me the gentlemen have decided upon
a quest of their own? How did that happen? Did you
somehow manage to maneuver them into ... ?" Muriel
couldn't imagine her sister manipulating anyone, but to
believe her suitors actually asked for a second contest
seemed ridiculous.

"It was not I, Moo. For the life of me I cannot think
they'd wish to hear something as horrid as the nonsense
about my eye," Charlotte told her. "They insisted. I did
not have the heart to deny them-and I confess I desire
the return of my lost hair ribbon."

"I suppose it will all work out. Perhaps not to their
benefit, and it cannot harm yours." Muriel had no part
in this bit of mischief, which some might not believe,
but in this instance she could claim innocence. "What
are you going to tell them?"

"I haven't yet considered . . ." Charlotte was clearly
distracted by something. Here she stood, but her thoughts
appeared to be very far away.

"Char-Char!" Muriel had never seen her sister behave
in such an odd fashion. "You do not attend!"

"I do beg your pardon, Moo. What is it you were saying?" Charlotte blinked as if she had awoken from a
sleep. It was most peculiar how she appeared to be participating in conversation one moment and then drifting off in the next, right before Muriel's eyes.

"Those gentlemen, the ones searching for your hair
ribbon, are expecting you to-" Muriel noticed her sister's concentration waning. "Where are your thoughts?"

"Please forgive me." Charlotte let out a sigh. "I'm
afraid I cannot keep my mind from drifting to him."

Muriel was very afraid she referred to that odious man.

"I did not see him this afternoon. I do not believe he
attended." Charlotte glanced down at the toe of her slipper emerging from under the hem of her dress. She turned
the pointed tip as if admiring the ornamentation. "How
I wished he had seen me play, listened to me sing. I had
hoped he might enjoy ... "

Unquestionably she referred to that man who had
foisted his presence upon them at Faraday Hall. He was
an unwanted guest; Muriel did not even wish to think
his name. "You cannot like him-Sir Philip."

"He thinks no more of me than one of his discarded
neckcloths." Charlotte's voice broke at the very lowering
thought. Revealing her despondent mood, she uttered a
dramatic, "I am cast aside."

"If that were the case, then I would surely dub me an
uncooperative length of linen," Muriel replied. Her revulsion to him was only second to his obvious distaste for her. "But all those other men adore you. Surely
there must be one among them who would capture your
heart."

"It would not be necessary if only Sir
Philip.. Charlotte did not finish her thought.

"Why do you concern yourself about him?" Muriel
hoped she'd been wrong about Sir Philip falling in love
with Charlotte during her solo performance. She could
not understand why Charlotte continually thought of the
baronet. Redirecting her attention to a lucky gentleman,
one who would prove to be more deserving, is what she
needed to do.

"What of the young man who returns your ribbon?"
Muriel prodded, as if she had asked the question a dozen
times. With the ribbon's discovery, Charlotte would divulge to the victor her favorite dress or pair of shoes or
whatever it was she'd deem a proper reward.