Page 1 of A Perfect Engagement
Prologue
April 1824
“Charlotte Grisham, whata thing to say to your own mother! I did not raise my daughter to be so impertinent,” Lady Markham whispered, her voice indignant.
Charlotte groaned inwardly and quickened her pace. Last night it had rained, and the walking path through Hyde Park was strewn with little white flower petals fallen from the dogwoods which stood sentry. She hurried toward Brook Street. The sooner they were home, the sooner she could escape this ridiculous conversation.
“Mother, I’m not impertinent. I am merely pointing out the height of my heeled boots can hardly matter to prospective suitors. Why would they care a wit about my footwear?”
“Because you are already too tall for a lady. If you wore flat slippers instead, then it would make you appear more petite. And in that same vein, I think you should cease to wear such tall hats. Certainly, those feathers add inches to your height.”
Charlotte raised a hand and ran her fingers across the smooth peacock feathers, which decorated her wide-brimmed hat. The feathers made her happy with their beautiful concentric circles of blues and greens. A gentle spring breeze teased at the feathers and ruffled the lace sleeves of her muslin gown. The weather had finally grown warm enough in late April to go outside without a cape. She celebrated this glimpse of spring.
“Why are you concerned about my height all of a sudden? I am the same height I have been since I was seventeen. You’ve never criticized it before.”
“Nonsense, I never criticize. I simply suggest alternatives.” Lady Markham paused as if working out her next move. She wrapped a hand around Charlotte’s elbow. Her head leaned in, and her voice lowered. “Just last night, Lady Weatherby told me that her cousin said, that her husband overheard Lord Melvin say how very taken he was with your beauty.”
Charlotte struggled to place the name with a face. In the walkway ahead of them, two small wrens fought over a piece of bread as she attempted to remember Lord Melvin.
Her mother continued, “Only he is quite short in stature, and we don’t want him to feel as though you are towering over him all the time, do we? I think if you were to wear no heels… Perhaps if you flatten your hairstyle a bit…”
A clear picture of Lord Melvin materialized in her mind. Mid-forties, balding and rotund, the top of his head barely reached her nose while they danced. Which is why she had brushed off the fact he ogled her breasts during the entire waltz. They had been right at his eye level.
“You can’t seriously believe I would consider Lord Melvin. I know exactly which body part he thought was beautiful, and it was not my face.” Her mother’s face flushed… She had seen what Charlotte meant. “Plus, he is at least two dozen years older than me.”
The hand at her elbow squeezed hard. “Hush! You are practically yelling.” Her mother glanced around at the other patrons of the park who were walking nearby. A tight formal smile firmly in place. “Stand up straight, and smile for goodness’ sake. We don’t want to seem as though we are arguing.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that,” Charlotte muttered out the side of her mouth.
“Lord Melvin is an earl, and the family fortune has been well taken care of. His mother, Lady Melvin, is famous for her extravagant parties. It would be a smart match.”
“I hardly think I am desperate enough to start considering old lechers like Lord Melvin. When I meet the right man, I will know immediately, like lightning striking.” Charlotte had envisioned the perfect moment she would meet the man of her dreams. They would accidentally bump into each other at the botanical gardens, both drawn to the same exotic orchid. He would be handsome, gallant…and tall. He would sweep into her life with good humor and smoldering smiles. They would immediately fall in love and marry at her home parish in Little Marbury.
Charlotte would finally have a home of her own. She would spend her days reading in his well-stocked library or riding out with her husband to have romantic picnics or watch the sunrise. She would never entertain except for intimate dinners with her closest friends because her husband also loathed making small talk with strangers. Life would be perfect.
Her mother’s voice broke into her reverie.
“Don’t be absurd, Charlotte. Good matches are made by considering all the eligible choices. And if we are honest, with your dark hair and striking height, you can’t be too picky.”
As they walked, she let her mother prattle on about prospective suitors. She tried not to let her mother’s comments about her appearance bother her, but the stinging remarks had increased ever since the season started last fall. Charlotte’s older brother Edward and his wife settled into their own home last year, and her other brother Lucius stayed away from home as much as possible since he had reached his majority. Charlotte now bore the brunt of her mother’s scrutiny.
Tears threatened in the back of her eyes. Her height was a new critique and one she could not do anything about. Charlotte inherited her height of five foot ten from her father. Her dark brown hair and green eyes also mirrored her father’s. In appearance, Charlotte was the polar opposite of her petite blond mother. Much to her mother’s disappointment.
She blinked rapidly against useless tears as she yanked her arm from her mother’s clutches. Lengthening her gait, she strode toward Brook Street. Her only thought was of home and her cozy morning room. She didn’t even pause as she stepped out of the park and onto the carriage path. The thunder of horse hooves startled her. Charlotte turned, instinctively throwing up her arms as two great black horses reared not ten feet away. There was a shout from someone, and a high-pitched scream came from behind her. Then she was lifted off her feet and flung to the ground. A heavy body landed on her, and her head rapped against the hard-packed dirt. Then everything went black.
*
Charlotte fluttered hereyelids, trying to focus. Nearby, a woman sobbed. The scent of dirt and grass tickled her nose. Then another scent, spicy and masculine, caught her attention as warm fingers brushed across her forehead. A deep voice said, “I think she is coming around.” She liked the timbre of that voice.
Come on, Charlotte, focus. Eyes open, please. She tried again, and this time, her eyelids obeyed. As she blinked, her vision slowly cleared. She stared into a pair of concerned dark brown eyes. Eyes that sat in a handsome face, a face with winged eyebrows, a long straight nose, and high cheekbones. Dark blond hair fell over the man’s forehead, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as a smile spread across his face.
“Oh, my dear! Are you all right?” Her mother’s tear-stained face entered her line of vision. “Oh, my baby!”
“What happened?” she croaked. Dust coated her throat.
“You stepped out right in front of a carriage being driven very recklessly, and at top speed, I might add, by a total idiot. I just managed to push you out of harm’s way. Unfortunately, too roughly, and I believe you hit your head rather hard. I am truly sorry.”
“Nonsense. You saved her life. We are forever in your debt!” Lady Markham sniffled. “To whom do we owe this debt of gratitude?”
