“I don’t know,” Charlotte admitted. “But I refuse to continue to stand by and let my future, or any of yours, be decided by society and at our parents’ convenience. I propose we take control in whatever small ways we can.”
“Such as?” Adeline prompted.
Charlotte shrugged. “We have intelligence, combined social connections, and a certain cunning if we put our minds to it. Why can’t we join forces and support one another? If we make a plan, an… alliance, if you will, we might just secure more suitable matches—or at least find ways to stave off unwanted suitors.”
“This idea has merit.” Miranda tapped a pen on her notebook as she spoke, her voice brightening with interest. “If we each gather what we hear in the ballrooms, drawing rooms, and at the promenade, we can compare notes. We can identify which men are respectable, which are rakes, which have secrets or debts. We can strategize who should dance with whom, how to encourageor discourage a suitor. In essence, we’d be turning the season into a… well, an organized campaign.”
Despite the gravity of the topic, the corners of Charlotte’s mouth lifted. That was exactly the sort of language she expected from Miranda, who adored structure. “Yes. Organized. We could be more effective together than alone. I know it sounds a bit mad, but it’s better than waiting around for whatever fate befalls us.”
Helena lifted her chin. “The idea is brilliant, but I’m not sure how I fit into it. If I’m honest, I do not seek a match at all. I fancied myself in love once but I learned from that mistake. Now, I’d prefer to focus on my music, if only my parents weren’t so determined I bring our family into theton.”
“Then we shall do our best to help you remain unwed,” Charlotte assured her.
Felicity fiddled nervously with a lace cuff. “And what of me? I’m hardly a shining star on the dance floor, or a master of drawing-room conversation. How could I help?”
Miranda reached across and patted her hand. “You have a sweet disposition, Felicity. People trust you. And you’re more observant than you realize.”
Genevieve cleared her throat. “Well, I can’t say I’m brimming with suitors, either, but I do talk to people at these dreadful balls. My mother insists on parading me everywhere; I pick up pieces of gossip. It might be useful.”
Charlotte’s shoulders lost a fraction of their tension as the group reached a semblance of consensus. “So we’re agreed, then?” she asked, carefully scanning each face. “We’ll help one another navigate this marriage market—on our own terms?”
Adeline smirked. “And if we’re lucky, we might avoid these dreadful Leonard types altogether.”
“Precisely.” Charlotte’s smile was genuinely warm now.
“Goodness,” Genevieve breathed, leaning forward. “It sounds almost… devious. I’ve never been devious in my life.”
Miranda patted her hand, too, still holding on to Felicity’s with the other. “It’s more practical than devious, Genevieve. We’re merely looking out for one another in a society that often pits women against each other.”
At the mention of the unspoken rule that young women were in constant competition for the most eligible suitors, a somber mood briefly settled in. Yet the notion of banding together felt both exciting and subversive. They were taught to be polite, sparkling, and grateful for any decent proposal. But here they were, talking about daring to change the rules.
“So, how do we start?” Felicity asked.
“I propose we focus on one of us at a time, and given recent events with Sir Roger”—Miranda wrinkled her nose as though at a bad smell—“we need to start with Charlotte.”
Charlotte flushed slightly. This was precisely what she had wanted; but now she had to admit the most embarrassing part of all.
She had an ideal suitor in mind.
Of course, Felicity and Miranda would not be at all surprised. Indeed, Miranda gave her a knowing look.
“Charlotte,” Adeline said, “Miranda’s right; I think we should start with you. You have an odious suitor sniffing around, and”—she paused, exchanging a glance with the others—“there’s also the matter of the Duke of Arundel.”
Heat flooded Charlotte’s face. Waseveryoneaware of her feelings for the duke?
“Have I been so obvious?” She groaned, raising her hands to her cheeks.
“Well,” Genevieve said carefully. “I’ve seen how you sometimes peek in his direction at balls.”
“You don’t always hide it well,” Helena added “Sorry.”
Charlotte was mortified. “I—he’s an old friend of my brother’s,” she murmured, fumbling for composure. “I’m sure he only sees me as William’s little sister.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so certain,” Miranda mused. “We’ve all seen him dancing with you more than once. He rarely dances at all. He’s famously aloof. So perhaps there’s hope.”
“If we succeeded in matching you with the duke, Charlotte, think what that would mean for all of us,” Genevieve chimed in, excitement edging her voice. “Having a duchess among our number would open doors to so many events and connections. We might all benefit from that influence!”
Charlotte’s embarrassment grew. “You’re all so kind, but I don’t want us to only focus on me. This was meant to be a collective effort.”
