“A death flower.” Alexandra nodded happily. “Perfect.”
“Helena, you’ve got Josephine’s clouds because the white has a touch of peach in it, and it’s perfect for your complexion. Georgie doesn’t need a ball gown so I brought her velvet for a new pelisse. I’ll embroider Rupert on it if she likes, but if she prefers something more grown-up, I’ll try out my new glowworm pattern. You see? I’ve been quite brilliant.”
Elizabeth ran her fingers once more over her peony silk, but she shook her head. “All this and we’re staying with you for the whole of the summer? We can’t possibly accept.”
“I was afraid you’d say that, but set your mind at rest.” Charlotte dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The silk isn’t a gift—it’s a bribe.”
Alexandra clutched her silk and shot her sister a dark look. “I don’t care what it is. It’s gorgeous and I want it.”
“A bribe for what?” asked Helena, ever practical.
“A bribe for your help, actually.” There was another enormous package beside Charlotte, and she opened it and spread the punch cards and papers over her coverlet. “Have you heard of Monsieur Joseph Jacquard? He created a loom that—”
Helena’s eyes lit up. “The Jacquard machine! It’s a loom, but you can also think of it as sort of alanguage, a yes-no machine. It tells the loom what to do for each thread of the warp… or is it the weft? The weaving I don’t quite understand.” She scrabbled into the papers. “Is this the schematic? I’ve beendyingto get my hands on one.”
Charlotte blinked. “Good! I’d love for you to have a look and… quickly? I’ve several patterns I’d like to weave in damask, but all I know is that you have to plot them out first on graph paper. How that translates into punch cards is beyond me. Might you be able to—”
“Of course.” Helena leaped up and began to lay the schematics out on the floor.
“It’s quite a bit of work, Helena. If you figure it out, you’d need to teach me and go to the mill and teach Mrs. Cordelon, who runs the place. Do you think you could do it? I can offer a good salary.”
That caught Elizabeth’s attention.
“Could I do it?” Helena scoffed. “It’s simply following directions, and they’re written right here.”
Charlotte slumped back onto her pillows. “Thank heavens.”
That evening, by unspoken agreement, the guests drifted past the splendor of the Grand Salon in favor of the cozier setting of Lady Alice’s sitting room. Elizabeth was soon engrossed in her correspondence and Helena in one of her books. Lady Skeffington found the plumpest settee and nodded off, and Marby and Lysander sprawled out on the Aubusson to challenge Georgiana in a loud and cutthroat game of spillikins, with Alexandra shouting encouragement.
Only Charlotte sat out of sorts, when she ought to have been celebrating. Her mind kept flashing back to the carriage and Wolfgang kissing her until her insides went liquid, and then somehow bothering her even more profoundly bytalkingto her.
She snuck a glance at the man in question, who had a glass of port in his hand and had managed to wedge himself into the largest armchair, a pale chintz affair that engulfed most guests but that he made look likedollhouse furniture. Charlotte might have been tempted to laugh or needle him in some way, except that her cheeks were already a telltale pink.
Her grandmother’s keen blue eyes met hers and Charlotte blushed anyway. “Are you well, child? Your color’s high tonight.”
“I’m perfectly well!”
The squeak in her voice caught Wolfgang’s attention and he looked over, which made her face flame even brighter. His mouth had been on her nipple, swirling and sucking, dragging it between his lips until she thought she might—
“Are you sure, darling?” said the dowager. “You’ve been acting off ever since you returned from Maidstone. Did anything happen that you’d like to tell me?”
“No! Of course not. The whole trip was exceedingly dull.”
Wolfgang took a slow sip of port. “Did you find it so? I myself quite enjoyed the day. Particularly the carriage ride.”
“How interesting!” The dowager’s voice was a little too bland. “I find the scenery on that stretch of road quite unremarkable.”
“Utterly unremarkable,” Charlotte agreed. “The carriage ride, in particular, put me straight to sleep.”
The dowager studied her a bit too closely for Charlotte’s liking, but she only said, “Well, child, if you napped this afternoon, you ought to have plenty of pepper in you now. What do you say to one more glass of champagne and a friendly game of whist?”
Charlotte brightened. “I say yes! I can think of nothing better.”
She’d play chess if she had to, if it meant a distraction from Wolfgang.
“Shall I count you in, Lady Skeffington?” called the dowager.
Lady Skeffington roused herself and gave a snort. “No, thank you. There’s nothingfriendlyabout the way you play whist.”
