One Little Kiss

By Suzanne G. Rogers

Charlotte promises her rakish neighbor a kiss if he will teach her awkward cousin how to waltz. Although she convinces herself the kiss will mean nothing, her feelings for the devilishly attractive baron begin to deepen. Can she protect her heart from the confirmed bachelor or will her impulsive bargain lead to romantic disaster?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne G. Rogers
• Release date: Dec 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9781947463554

Suzanne G. Rogers

Originally from Southern California, Suzanne G. Rogers currently resides in beautiful Savannah, Georgia on an island populated by exotic birds, deer, turtles, otters, and gators. Tab is her beverage of choice but a cranberry vodka martini doesn’t go amiss.

Book preview

BEST-LAID PLAN

August 10, 1886 • Derby, England

While their horses grazed in the shade of a spreading oak tree, Charlotte Tarleton and Rhys Sandiford raced toward the lake, climbed into a rowboat, and made their way out onto the water. At length, a young woman in a maid’s uniform arrived on foot and took up a vigil on a stone bench near the shore.

Rhys nodded in the maid’s direction. Duncan is here.

I cannot imagine anything more uneventful than keeping watch over the two of us. Charlotte waved at the maid, who waved back. I’m sure she would much rather be doing something else.

Rhys shrugged. You know how it is. Once a girl’s hair goes up, the chaperones come out. Otherwise, tongues will wag.

Oh, yes. My governess used to say young ladies must not only avoid impropriety but the appearance thereof.

I remember Miss Tenpenny very well. He grinned. Do you ever hear from her?

We exchange letters around Christmas every year. She’s working for a family in Newcastle with five little girls, if you can believe it. Apparently, they are a handful.

After her experiences keeping you in line, I’m sure she will manage them creditably.

Charlotte tossed her head in pretend pique. Hmph!

As she unfurled her lacy parasol, Rhys rowed the boat past lily pads, dragonflies and the occasional jumping fish.

I love Overdell Manor in the summertime. Charlotte’s sigh was blissful. This lake most of all.

So do I. Rhys lifted the oars from the water and let the boat glide across the glassy surface. Unfortunately, my brother might sell the estate.

Her eyes widened. You are joking.

I only wish I were. Jonathan wrote me about his intentions in a letter just this morning. Rhys shook his head. He does not care for the place.

If he ever spent more than two days here altogether, he might change his mind. She glanced at the house, as if Lord Ridley might emerge any moment. I’ve not clapped eyes on your brother since I was twelve!

Rhys chuckled. "Jonathan does spend exactly two days here, in fact. He comes to visit on my birthday and Christmas."

You needn’t be so literal. Charlotte stuck out her tongue in a decidedly unladylike fashion. I cannot imagine why he despises the estate so very much. Don’t tell Papa, but I almost prefer it over Rosebourne.

I suspect the house holds too many sad memories for him.

Your brother could have stayed here and made new and more agreeable memories. She scowled. But he wishes to sell your home instead.

That is not precisely fair, Charlotte. A lock of Rhys’s wavy hair fell across his forehead. Jonathan inherited the barony, so Overdell Manor is his to do with as he pleases.

Whether you like it or not? I cannot believe you are defending him!

Despite what you might think, Jonathan has been a good brother. More importantly, he’s the only family I have left.

What generosity of spirit. Charlotte scowled. I’m not so sure I would be so forgiving under the circumstances.

You don’t know him like I do. He and I get along fairly well for being so far apart in age. In fact, he encourages me to visit him in London any time I like.

Yes, but… Charlotte averted her gaze, if you move away, I might not see you again.

I doubt Jonathan will sell Overdell Manor before I graduate next spring. He dipped his oars in the water and angled the boat toward the picturesque bridge in the center of the lake. At least, I hope not.

Because Lord Ridley is your only blood relation, I shall endeavor not to despise him, Charlotte’s tone was grudging, …however much I am disposed to do so.

I’m glad to hear it. Rhys chuckled. As it turns out, Jonathan will be home in time to attend Lady Upcott’s end-of-summer picnic. Perhaps your opinion of him will improve upon closer acquaintance.

Unless he changes his mind about selling his estate, I doubt it. She shrugged. Since it’s neither your birthday nor Christmas, what brings him to Derby?

I believe he wishes to discuss my future.

Your future away from Overdell Manor, I take it. Charlotte watched a butterfly flit along the bank. Perhaps once your brother has a few pleasant experiences in Derby, he will change his mind about selling. Lady Upcott’s picnic will be a step in the right direction. Her parties are always great fun.

One afternoon of frivolity cannot possibly do the trick, Charlotte. According to Jonathan’s letter, he’s planning to travel to the south of France just as soon as I leave for Oxford.

She gave Rhys a sidelong glance. Perhaps I can persuade Lord Ridley to stay a little longer.

Rhys peered at her. Have you some sort of magic spell to cast?

Charlotte laughed. No, but I have been described as charming. She batted her eyelashes.

Ordinarily, I would quite agree. Rhys gave her a crooked grin. Unfortunately, my brother is a trifle jaded where women are concerned.

Her spine straightened. Merciful heavens, I don’t mean to flirt with him!

He lifted an eyebrow. I certainly hope not. Jonathan is a confirmed bachelor and perfectly capable of breaking your heart.

Charlotte’s lips curved into a smile. I can assure you, nothing Lord Ridley could ever do or say would tempt me whatsoever.

Mr. Tarleton glanced through the morning post the following morning, pausing when he reached one particular missive. Hmm. I have had a letter from my brother, postmarked from Copenhagen.

Hugh and little Lucy are in Denmark again? Mrs. Tarleton cut a bite from her omelet.

Charlotte shook her head. "Lucy is not so little any longer, Mama. She must be about eighteen by now.

Has it been that long? Her mother sighed. "Tempus fugit, as they say."

As her father opened the envelope and perused its contents, Charlotte gave her mother a puzzled glance. Why has Uncle Hugh stayed away from England so long?

Her mother’s expression turned wistful. Losing your Aunt Sarah was extraordinarily difficult for him. Sometimes people react to terrible events in unexpected ways.

Rhys told me just yesterday that after the late Lord and Lady Ridley passed on, his brother couldn’t bear living at Overdell Manor any longer. Charlotte stabbed a pickled peach with her fork. The baron dislikes the place so thoroughly, he is contemplating whether or not to sell the estate.

What a shame. As I recall, Jonathan Sandiford was rather amiable as a lad. Mrs. Tarleton shrugged. If he doesn’t intend to inhabit Overdell Manor now, however, a new family might improve the neighborhood.

But Rhys will move away forever! Charlotte frowned. Lord Ridley is dreadfully selfish and I loathe him with every fiber of my being.

Her mother’s eyebrows lifted. That is not terribly charitable, dearest.

Perhaps not, but Rhys is my dearest friend. I would miss him something fierce if he leaves.

If you and Rhys don’t plan to marry, perhaps separation is for the best. Mrs. Tarleton focused her attention once more on her food. You must give another eligible young man a chance to win you over. With your looks and vivacity, I imagine you will make a very good match.

Gah! Charlotte popped a pickled peach in her mouth and chewed without tasting it. She and Rhys had never discussed marriage, but she had always assumed they would end up together. How would she ever find another man who suited her as well?

I cannot help you with Rhys Sandiford or his brother, Charlotte, but I might be able to furnish you with a companion. Mr. Tarleton tapped the letter in his hand. My brother is planning to bring Lucy here for a long visit.

Oh, my! Charlotte gasped. Won’t that be wonderful!

Mrs. Tarleton blinked. Is it certain?

It seems so. Hugh did not give me a specific date, but he will write again once he and Lucy reach Amsterdam.

Lucy must have the room across the hall from mine and we’ll be like sisters. Charlotte wriggled with excitement. Mama, the decor in that room is far too dull for a girl her age. May I sew new bedclothes and curtains for her?

I have no objections. Mrs. Tarleton slid her husband a sweet smile. Matthew, dearest, would you mind awfully if Charlotte smartens up Lucy’s room?

I suppose that’s a subtle request for money. He reached for his wallet, extracted several bills, and laid them on the tablecloth next to Charlotte’s plate. Buy whatever fabric you need, child. I would very much like your cousin to feel comfortable.

Charlotte beamed. I will take the gig into town after breakfast and be back before lunch.

While the fabric shop clerk was loading bolts of chintz into the boot of the gig, Charlotte peered at the dark clouds gathering overhead. Oh, bother! It looks like rain.

The clerk followed her gaze. You’d best hurry straight home, Miss Tarleton.

I certainly will. With any luck, I’ll make it home ahead of the storm.

Charlotte climbed up into the gig and encouraged her mare to move forward at a fast walk. Once she was on the open road, however, the clouds thickened and a fine mist began to moisten her skin. As heavier rain began to sprinkle the countryside, Charlotte stopped her gig under the shelter of a tree and hoped the storm would soon pass.

As she waited at the side of the road, however, raindrops filtered down through the tree’s leaves and left blotches on her gown. Charlotte groaned to think about the jaunty feathers and ribbons on her hat growing limp.

The sound of a horse’s hooves made her glance over her shoulder. A horse was coming along at a fast clip, but she did not recognize its rider. The stranger was wrapped in a travel cloak and held a large, black umbrella over his head. Although Charlotte expected him to pass her by, he reined in his horse and he came abreast.

Are you all right, miss?

When Charlotte met the stranger’s gaze, her mouth grew dry. Never before had she seen such a handsome man, whether in the drawing rooms of Derbyshire or on the London stage. Abundant brown curls flowed from underneath his top hat, strong brows emphasized his piercing gaze, and his sculpted cheekbones lent his visage an elegant, distinctly masculine appearance.

Yes. I…er…foolishly failed to bring an umbrella. Charlotte gestured toward the sky. In my defense, the sun was shining when I left the house this morning.

Allow me. He bent closer and extended the handle of his umbrella to her. With my compliments.

Charlotte was filled with gratitude as she held the umbrella over her hat. "But what will you do, sir? The rain does not look as if it will let up soon."

His rakish grin was like a ray of sunshine that illuminated her very core. Fortunately, I’m not made of sugar. The gentleman touched the brim of his hat. Good day, miss.

The horse and rider galloped down the road without a backward glance and disappeared around the bend. Although Charlotte was grateful for the handsome stranger’s assistance, his umbrella did not appear to be inexpensive and she had no way to return it to him. A wistful sigh escaped her lips as she released the brake on her gig and urged her horse forward. Apparently, gallant knights need not always wear shining armor.

Early the following morning, Charlotte brought her journal over to the vanity and sat so Duncan could remove the curling rags from her ordinarily straight tresses. As bouncing corkscrews of fine, honey-colored locks began to appear, Charlotte gave them an appraising glance. I wish my hair was naturally curly.

I’m not so sure. ’Tis always easier to curl straight hair than to straighten curly hair, Miss Tarleton, the maid murmured.

Charlotte pictured the passing gentleman from the day before. Perhaps it’s human nature to desire that which we cannot have.

True, but my mum always says I ought to make the most of what God gave me.

Charlotte met Duncan’s gaze in the mirror. Your mama is wise.

The maid smiled. That’s what my mum says, too.

As the maid continued to work, Charlotte bent over her journal with a pencil:

Thursday, August 12, 1886

Despite my resentment toward Lord Ridley, I must try to be exceedingly charming when I see him at Lady Upcott’s picnic today. Whenever possible, I must mention the delights of Derby and all it has to offer. Remember that if Rhys and I marry one day, the despicable baron will become my brother.

Charlotte amused herself by jotting Mrs. Rhys Sandiford, Mrs. Charlotte Sandiford, and Mrs. Sandiford underneath her notes.

Duncan finally made a tsking sound with her tongue. Forgive me, Miss Tarleton, but I’ll never get your hair arranged properly if you don’t sit up straight!

I am sorry. Charlotte closed her journal and put it aside. I don’t mean to be difficult, but I had to write down my thoughts for the day.

You are always making lists and notes in your journal. The young woman’s puzzled expression was reflected in the vanity mirror. To what purpose?

It is my belief that writing down your goals and plans helps you achieve them. Charlotte shrugged. It has always worked for me.

Mmm. Maybe I ought to write down my daily goals. Duncan frowned. Mum is always getting after me for being scatterbrained.

Nonsense! Tell your mama that I think you are an excellent lady’s maid and I quite rely on you. Charlotte paused. Give her my regards as well, while you are at it.

I will. Duncan giggled.

At any rate, I think it’s best to map things out beforehand instead of floating through life like a leaf on a river, don’t you? Nothing is left to chance that way.

I hadn’t thought about it, to be perfectly truthful. Duncan pinned a curl in place. What if you plan something out, but then you change your mind?

I don’t know, really. Once I’ve made up my mind on something, I’ve never changed it.

After Duncan had finished arranging her hair, Charlotte picked up the comb and loosened a few strands at the side of her neck. There. She nodded her approval. Perhaps a stray lock of hair will attract a certain gentleman’s attention to the curves of my throat.

What if you attract the attention of less worthy gentlemen?

Those gentlemen are free to admire me. Charlotte winked. Now, bring me my blue and white striped gown, if you will. It’s perfect for a picnic in August.

Duncan’s eye’s widened. Don’t you think the neckline is rather daring for a picnic?

Yes, of course! Charlotte laughed. That’s the entire point.

Her maid frowned. I’ll bring you a shawl as well, so you may wear it to breakfast. I wouldn’t want Mr. Tarleton to object.

Charlotte patted Duncan’s hand. This is why you are such an excellent lady’s maid.

The young woman gave her a sidelong glance. It’s more for my sake than yours, I confess. I wouldn’t want Mr. Tarleton to imagine the gown was my idea.

Overdell Manor

Over breakfast, Jonathan Sandiford, commonly addressed as Lord Ridley, sorted through the morning post. He opened a scented envelope, scanned the letter, and chuckled.

His younger brother glanced around the room. What the devil reeks of roses?

I have had a letter from Miss Opal Marley.

Gah! Rhys scowled at the stationery in Jonathan’s hand. Why must girls douse their correspondence with perfume? Scent doesn’t go well with eggs and bacon.

In this case, I expect it is a form of punishment. Jonathan tossed the letter to the table. The lady has broken things off between us.

What? Rhys peered at him. I did not realize you were courting anyone.

I’ve never courted her nor do I have any intention of doing so in the future. Jonathan shook his head. I danced with her twice at a ball this past Season and she twisted that into a proposal of marriage.

Clearly, she does not know you very well. His brother snickered into his tea. Did she give any reason for breaking things off?

Miss Marley wrote to me several times when I was in London and I failed to respond. So, she has now smeared me as a rake and has demanded I burn all her letters. I had already done so, of course. Jonathan spread butter on a piece of toast and folded it into his mouth.

Why must women create drama where none exists? Rhys wore a bewildered expression. They should be more level-headed like Charlotte. She never creates a fuss.

Jonathan took a sip of tea. Miss Tarleton must be a rare sort of lady. I expect she understands most gentlemen enjoy being the pursuer and not the pursued.

I agree with you on that.

The last time I saw Charlotte Tarleton, she was still in the schoolroom. Jonathan gave Rhys an appraising glance. I hope you’ve made her no promises.

No promises, exactly, but everyone assumes she and I will end up together. His brother paused. Surely you can have no objection?

Miss Tarleton is a respectable country girl, to be sure, but you are meant for something better.

Rhys’s eyebrows drew together. I’m not certain I could find anyone better. Charlotte is the prettiest girl in the county, by far.

Good looks signify very little in the grand scheme of things. Jonathan refilled his tea cup. Are you in love with her?

We are exceedingly compatible. If Charlotte and I marry, we will begin our life together with a great deal of affection.

I see. Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. I’m happy to hear I’m not too late.

Too late for what?

To arrange your future. Since I don’t intend to marry, you are my heir. As the future baron, you must choose a lady who will bring fortune or status to the barony. He paused. Preferably both.

Oh, is that all? Rhys wore an incredulous expression. How am I to meet this superlative lady?

Once you graduate from Oxford next summer, you’ll join me in London for the rest of the Season. Jonathan grinned. With your looks and temperament, I think we can find you an earl’s daughter at the very least.

You’re mad.

I’m more optimistic than mad. If you don’t find a suitable bride next summer, I’ll send you off on a Grand Tour and we can try again the following year.

What about Charlotte? She’s my best friend in the whole world.

You’ve not really been out in the world, Rhys. Write to Miss Tarleton if you wish, but it’s high time to leave your childhood in the past.

You ought to take your own advice about leaving things in the past. Rhys scooped up a bite of eggs with his fork. After all, you cannot overcome your dislike of Overdell Manor.

I have no wish to overcome anything. I’ve never been able to sleep well in this house.

Although Jonathan tossed off the statement lightly, he had lain awake almost all night. The moment he caught sight of the residence yesterday, he had felt his spirit wilt. The day he sold the estate would undoubtedly bring him a sense of peace.

His brother studied him. I have a small inheritance of my own. What if I were to buy Overdell Manor from you outright?

Your inheritance is not nearly enough to pay for the estate. Even if it were, however, you’d have no remaining capital on which to live. Jonathan paused. If you married an heiress, however, you could buy the place and live happily ever after.

An heiress, you say? That leaves Charlotte out. She has a dowry, of course, but the amount is modest. Rhys’s lips tightened. I suppose I should count myself fortunate you came home long enough to wave goodbye. "

Come now, Rhys. Do you really think my position is unreasonable?

If you truly don’t wish to live here, I suppose not. The admission was a grudging one. Once you reacquaint yourself with Charlotte, you might just change your mind about the match.

I have no wish to know her better. Jonathan shrugged. There is no point.

How practical you are. Rhys shot him a level glance. Have you never met a girl you wished to lead down the aisle?

No, and I never will. Jonathan cocked his head. Therefore, it is up to you to carry on the family name.

Rhys stabbed a sausage with his fork. I would not be as hard-hearted as you are for anything.

When Charlotte drove away from Rosebourne on her way to the picnic, her shawl was firmly pinned to her bodice. Once she arrived at Lady Upcott’s estate, however, she unfastened the brooch and gave the wrap to a servant. As she followed the maid down a corridor, Charlotte caught sight of her reflection in a mirror and bit her lip. Just before she stepped onto the veranda, she gave her neckline a surreptitious tug upward. The countess was of a conservative nature, after all, and Charlotte wished she had kept her shawl. Then again, who wore a shawl to a picnic?

In the near distance, Charlotte spotted a large open tent next to the towering oak and gave the maid a smile. I can find my way from here.

The maid curtsied. Yes, miss.

Although Charlotte was disappointed to discover Rhys had not yet arrived, she found Lady Upcott and thanked her for the invitation.

It’s my pleasure, Miss Tarleton. The older woman gave her a fond smile. I believe you will enjoy yourself immensely today. We are to play a riddle game.

Charlotte’s eyes widened. What fun! I look forward it.

Miss Fielding? Lady Upcott beckoned to a pretty brunette, who hastened over. Have you met Miss Charlotte Tarleton? Charlotte, this is Miss Fielding, who has recently been in London. Since you are so close in age, I suspect you will have a great deal in common. Excuse me while I say hello to the vicar and his wife.

Charlotte spent several enjoyable minutes chatting with Miss Fielding about her first Season in London. After the young woman described her whirlwind activities, Charlotte sighed. How I envy you! It sounds as if your summer was a vast deal more exciting than mine.

The young woman gave her a quizzical glance. Have you never been presented at Court?

I am afraid not. Lady Upcott has offered to sponsor me, but Papa, Mama, and I have been content to stay in Derby. Charlotte shrugged. I-I think I’m a bit of a homebody, to be honest.

The reason, of course, was far simpler. Her father was reasonably well off by any measure, but he did not have the sort of lavish resources necessary to launch her into the upper echelon of society.

Should you ever change your mind about London, I am sure you would enjoy yourself immensely. Miss Fielding’s expression brightened. Oh, look! Mr. Sandiford has arrived.

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder just as a boyish, fair-haired gentleman appeared on the veranda. So he has.

Miss Fielding’s voice lowered to a whisper. I have spoken to Mr. Sandiford only once after church, but there is something about him that sends a delicious shiver down my spine.

He is very handsome.

Yes, indeed. Miss Fielding’s inky eyelashes fluttered. I think his countenance is both romantic and intellectual. What is your opinion?

Hmm. Charlotte pretended to contemplate the matter. Since he and I are dear friends and neighbors, I am rather prejudiced on the subject of his appearance.

Miss Fielding’s hazel eyes went wide. Please forgive me if I spoke out of turn. I did not mean anything untoward.

I’m just teasing you. Charlotte reached out to give the younger woman’s hand a squeeze. In point of fact, I couldn’t agree with you more.

Miss Fielding’s shoulders relaxed. I’m so glad. She paused. So you and Mr. Sandiford have no understanding?

Charlotte brushed the question aside. Excuse me while I say hello, won’t you? She wove her way through the guests and approached Rhys. Good afternoon, Mr. Sandiford.

"Mr. Sandiford? He looked at her askance. Why the sudden formality?"

Lady Upcott would think it a scandal if we addressed one another in a familiar fashion, don’t you think? Charlotte took his arm in a companionable fashion. She’d tell the vicar and he might suspect we needed reform.

Reform? Rhys shuddered. I may be in need of correction from time to time, but fortunately I’m too old for the strap.

A deep voice rang out. Who says?

Charlotte dropped Rhys’s arm and glanced up at a tall gentleman with wavy chestnut hair and high cheekbones. Although she did not know the fellow’s name, his umbrella was resting in the entryway of her home at that very moment.

You remember my brother, don’t you, Charlotte? Rhys gave her a twinkling smile. Jonathan, this is Miss Charlotte Tarleton.

"You’re Lord Ridley?" Her spine stiffened.

She remembered Jonathan Sandiford as a young man of eighteen, with the gangly limbs and slender frame of someone who’d grown too quickly. Not only had he filled out since then, but he had also acquired an air of self-assurance, poise, and style.

The very same. Lord Ridley doffed his hat and sketched a shallow bow. If I had realized who you were when we met yesterday, I would have introduced myself.

Rhys wore a puzzled expression. You met one another yesterday?

In a manner of speaking. Charlotte smiled. I was caught out in the storm on the way back from town and your brother was kind enough to lend me his umbrella.

It was no trouble at all. The baron chuckled. As it so happens, I prefer riding in the rain.

So that explains why you arrived at the house soaked to the skin. Rhys clapped his brother on the shoulder. I thought the maids would faint dead away when they saw the puddle you left in the entrance hall.

"I’m sorry if I caused your maids extra work, Rhys, but I was terribly grateful for the umbrella. Charlotte’s gaze flickered toward Lord Ridley. Now that I know your identity, sir, I will return your umbrella forthwith."

As Lord Ridley gazed down at Charlotte, she couldn’t help but admire the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

There is no rush. His features reflected polite reserve. If you’ll excuse me, I must pay my respects to the dowager countess. Lord Ridley strode off across the lawn.

Rhys leaned closer. I’m leaving for Oxford very early tomorrow morning. Before I forget to ask, will you write to me while I’m away?

Charlotte gave her friend a teasing glance. If you write first, I will certainly reply.

Excellent. He beamed. Forgive me, but I should greet Lady Upcott as well. I don’t want to be accused of bad manners.

As Rhys joined his brother, the baron cast a decidedly cool glance at Charlotte over one shoulder. Lord Ridley’s manner toward her had changed since yesterday, and not for the better. Perhaps he did not care for parties…or maybe Rhys had told him of her resentment. Either way, her plan to charm the baron was now completely derailed. If she could devise no other way to change his mind, however, Overdell Manor would be sold and Rhys would be torn from her forever. Even the most faithful correspondence could not take the place of their morning rides, frequent outings, and convivial conversations. What was she to do now?

Miss Fielding appeared at her elbow. Who was that frightfully good-looking gentleman with Mr. Sandiford? I noticed him in London this past Season, but we were never introduced.

He’s Mr. Sandiford’s elder brother, Lord Ridley.

"That’s Lord Ridley? Miss Fielding cocked her head. He and Mr. Sandiford don’t look very much alike."

They are half-brothers. The late baron married again after his first wife passed away.

I see. The young woman glanced toward Lord Ridley, who had left Lady Upcott’s side and was now chatting with the vicar. He certainly has a presence about him.

I suppose so.

Miss Fielding’s eyebrows drew together. I heard something scandalous about Lord Ridley just before I left London. She lowered her voice. He’s said to be a rake.

Although Rhys had almost admitted the same thing to her, Charlotte had no wish to speak ill of his brother, especially to such a casual acquaintance.

Idle rumors don’t necessarily make a thing so. She gestured toward the baron, whose back was now turned to her. I daresay a great many women admire Lord Ridley’s looks and their admiration might very well lead to misunderstandings.

Miss Fielding blinked. That is the kindest interpretation possible.

Lady Upcott rang a little bell until the hubbub of conversation died down. Welcome, everyone! Welcome to Sweetbarrow, and thank you for coming to my end-of-summer picnic. Now before we sit down to eat, I thought we would play a little game. She gestured toward a young maid, who was holding a beribboned basket. Ladies, I must ask each of you to take a card, but don’t look at it yet.

The maid walked through the group, allowing each female to pick up one of the cards piled inside the basket. As it turned out, Charlotte