The Fairest of Them All

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Authors: Cathy Maxwell
Charlene. He couldn’t look hard enough at her. Dame Imogen was right by his side. She gave me a smile and a little nod of her head—­” She demonstrated the barest of movements. “I took it as a sign that he had not had this reaction to any other young woman.”
    â€œHe liked you,” Sarah said to Charlene. “But then I knew he would. How could he not? This is wonderful, exactly what we’d hoped for. But then, why are the two of you so crestfallen? Why are you not happy?” Sarah’s face had gone pale and Char knew what her aunt was thinking. They had spent almost all the money from the stolen purse. The rent had been paid for the month but everything else had gone toward preparing for this one evening.
    And it had all been for naught—­because of the appearance of one man.
    â€œThe duke’s brother arrived,” Lady Baldwin said. She drained her glass.
    â€œAnd?” Sarah prodded.
    â€œApparently, he’s been missing for years ,” Char explained, and of course, Whitridge would show up when she least needed him. She had not told anyone about her confrontation with him, not even Lady Baldwin. He had been her secret.
    â€œYes, everyone thought him dead,” Lady Baldwin explained. “I remember when he first ­vanished. They said he had been sleeping in his bed at Eton and then—­ poof! He was gone. And then decides to show up on this one night, just as Charlene has been presented to the duke.” She began acting out the moment. “The duke had asked her to dance. He looked around as if to signal that he was done with the receiving line, that he had found the woman he wanted.”
    â€œOh my,” Sarah said.
    â€œBut then the duke’s brother broke in, uninvited , to the ball and ruined it all. The duke was not happy to see him and he seemed to forget our Charlene. She was pushed back out of the way while the two brothers had this reunion that they could have had tomorrow or the next day or the next one. I pushed her forward, Sarah. I wanted to remind him of her presence. By the by, Charlene was not help with that,” she added as an aside. “I pushed forward; she kept trying to hide behind me.”
    Charlene had been trying to elude Whitridge’s attention. Fortunately, he was so focused on his brother and the drama of the moment, he hadn’t noticed her . . . which was good . . . except it had stung her vanity, which was odd because Whitridge was definitely someone she should avoid. She’d been very lucky to escape his notice and risk being labeled a thief in front of the duke and all the world.
    And yet she found herself piqued about how oblivious he had been to her.
    â€œThen the dowager duchess fainted,” Lady Baldwin continued, “and the ball was called to a halt.” She poured herself another glass of sherry.
    Sarah reached for a glass as well and filled it to the brim. She looked to Char. “I don’t suppose there was any chance the duke might remember you?”
    Char shrugged and then admitted, “Not even a remote one. The ball came to an end then. We were practically pushed out the door by the ­footmen.”
    â€œWell.” The word was a sentence in and of itself. Sarah looked into her overfull glass a moment and then lifted it in the air. “We tried. We took a risk and you can now say you have attended a ball.”
    â€œOr part of one,” Lady Baldwin corrected. She tipped her own glass. “To our Charlene. Baynton is a fool to lose you.”
    Char could agree to that and raised her glass. “And to my lovely aunt and caring friend. You are my family and all I need to be happy.”
    They drank, the moment mellowing their disappointment over the evening.
    Sarah spoke. “So, what did you think of Baynton when you met him? Is he as handsome as they say?”
    â€œI couldn’t quibble over his looks,” she admitted.

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