Estella's blood went cold. She pushed back her chair before propriety could stop her, her napkin sliding to the floor. "Charlotte?"
Her little sister appeared in the dining room doorway. Her hair was damp from the evening drizzle, and her dress was mud-splattered at the hem.
"Charlotte." Estella was on her feet, crossing the room, her heart hammering. "What's happened? Is Papa hurt? Are you hurt? How did you?—"
"I'm fine," Charlotte said. Her tone was one of exasperated impatience, as it so often was when Estella fretted over her. "Nothing happened. I was lonely."
"You were—" Estella drew in a breath and reminded herself that throttling one's younger sister at a duchess's dinner party was, by any social standard, frowned upon. But her newfound calm disappeared as a new thought occurred. "You walked here? Alone? In the dark?"
"It's not dark. The sun hasn't properly set. And it's only four streets." Charlotte peered around Estella at the dining room. "Is that pheasant? I haven't had pheasant in ages."
The table had gone quiet. Fourteen pairs of eyes were fixed on the spectacle of a mud-spattered eight-year-old.
Estella's cheeks burned. This was a catastrophe. She'd been making progress—actual, genuine progress with a viable suitor—and now her little sister had appeared like a small blonde hurricane to remind everyone present that the Hale family was not, in fact, the sort of well-ordered household that produced marriageable young ladies.
"I'm so sorry," she said, turning to the duchess. "I'll take her home immediately."
"Nonsense." The duchess rose from her chair and crossed to them with a small smile that surprised Estella. She looked down at Charlotte. "I did tell you that you were welcome anytime, Miss Charlotte. And I meant it."
Charlotte's chin lifted and she turned to Estella. "See? She said I could come."
"Perhaps," the duchess said, glancing around the table, "Miss Charlotte might join us for dessert. And Lord Blackwood, would you be so good as to escort her home afterward? It's growing late, and I wouldn't want her walking back unaccompanied."
Sebastian straightened. His gaze moved from Charlotte to the duchess to Estella, and for a moment Estella wished with all her might that she had the capacity to read a man’s thoughts. His expression gave nothing away, and for the life of her she could not tell if he was angry, amused, or mortified that he was associated with the Hale family.
"Of course," he said.
His tone was just as unreadable as his expression.
Estella feared her sister might argue. She’d had that stubborn look on her face from the moment she’d entered. But Estella supposed the offer of dessert was enough to quell even her sister’s feisty temper because Charlotte merely looked to the food on the table and gave a little nod of assent. "After dessert."
A ripple of laughter ran through the table. Charlotte was installed in a hastily procured chair between the duchess and a baroness who seemed charmed beyond measure by “the adorable child,” and the dinner resumed.
Estella returned to her seat, her cheeks still warm. Lord Alderton caught her eye and smiled. "Your sister is quite something."
"She is." Estella smoothed her napkin in her lap and tried to recapture the composure Charlotte had shattered. "I apologize for the disruption."
"Don't." He said it simply, without fuss. "She reminds me of my own sister at that age. Absolutely convinced the rules didn't apply to her. She was usually right. Now my daughter, on the other hand…"
His eyes lit with unabashed adoration as he went on about his daughter, who he feared was too timid for her own good. But despite his fears, she could hear the pride and love when he spoke of her.
Estella smiled. She had no doubt he was an excellent father. And he’d no doubt be a good husband as well.
She could be happy with a man like this. Estella blinked in surprise. The thought arrived quietly, without fanfare…but it was startling nonetheless.
9
Charlotte Hale had opinions. This much was clear to Sebastian before the footman had even shut the carriage door.
It had started at the dining table. She’d declared such a hearty approval over her dessert that the duchess had sent a maid to fetch a second helping.
Both the duchess and Charlotte had pretended not to see Estella’s wide-eyed look of horror.
Then the child had given her opinion on the duchess’s gown and the baroness’s necklace. Fortunately the girl was ample in her praise. He couldn’t imagine the general goodwill at the dining room table would have survived if Charlotte had insulted one of the ladies. Overall, the guests had been charmed by the little imp. Including the duchess.
No, especially the duchess.
Sebastian crossed his arms and studied the little girl who swung her legs on the carriage seat across from him. He’d seen her several times over the years, but it never ceased to amaze him how quickly she grew. She’d gone from a baby to a small human in remarkable time. But what was even more amazing was her fearlessness.
