Miss Charity's Case by Jo Ann Ferguson

you came to London, you were more concerned with people than propriety. Remember when that fisher-family ailed? You went off to tend them, although everyone in the church urged you to stay away because they were beneath your touch. Now you are letting our great-aunt change you.”
    â€œShe has no wish to change me.” She drew back on the reins as she waited for a break in the traffic along the street. Easing the carriage into the flow, she said, “She thinks only of you. As I do. Joyce, who was that man?”
    â€œHe did not offer his name when he stopped me to ask for directions.”
    â€œDirections?”
    â€œTo Soho Square.” She laughed merrily. “Think of it, Charity. Can you believe that a gentleman would believe that I was familiar with London?”
    Charity’s answering smile was uncomfortable. She could not accuse her sister of lathering her when their silently disapproving abigail sat beside them. Yet she did not believe a single word. Joyce seldom lied, but, when she did, she always had an excellent reason. Charity hoped it would be worth the scene that was sure to come when they arrived at the town house.
    Charity was not disappointed. The door had not closed behind them before Lady Eloise called for them to be brought to her parlor posthaste. Deciding there was nothing left to do but own up to the truth—mayhap not the part about Joyce going out by herself—Charity strode into the room and gave her great-aunt a kiss on the cheek.
    â€œWhat a wondrous time we had!” she said, as she sat on the settee facing the startled Lady Eloise. “Dear great-aunt, a ride in the Park is everything you suggested it might be and so much more. Now I can understand why you have such concerns about our clothing. Everyone was dressed in high kick, and I never saw such colors. Have you, Joyce?”
    â€œI—” She gulped as Charity flashed her a frown. “It was truly splendid.”
    â€œBut I never—”
    Charity did not let her great-aunt finish. With the same burst of feigned enthusiasm, she said, “I have so many ideas I wish to share with the modiste . One of the ladies was wearing a shade of rose that would be perfect for Joyce.” She leaned forward. “Wouldn’t she look so glorious in pink?”
    â€œYes, but—”
    Jumping to her feet, she hugged her overmastered great-aunt. “Thank you for your advice. I know now what I must do to help Joyce when she is presented to the ton . It was so very enlightening. When I met Lady Thyra Estes while we drove through the park—”
    â€œEstes!” Lady Eloise punched the floor with her cane and rose. “I trust she was not in the company of Lord Blackburn.”
    â€œYes, she was.” Speaking the lady’s name had been a grave error, Charity realized, as she looked from Lady Eloise’s frown to Joyce’s. Why was her sister discomposed? Then Charity recalled her own disquiet when she discovered the handsome man was a peer.
    Handsome? That word did not begin to describe the way his knowing eyes twinkled when they suffused her with their warmth. She was amazed she could reconstruct every angle of his rugged face although she had seen him but twice.
    â€œI had not heard that the earl had returned,” Lady Eloise said, shattering Charity’s thoughts. “This complicates things.”
    â€œWhy?” asked Joyce.
    â€œHe is the grandson of my late husband’s dearest friend. It would be unthinkable not to invite him to any gathering we have here.” She lowered herself back to her chair. “Oh, dear. This is not good at all.”
    Joyce knelt next to the old woman, astonishing Charity. “What do you suggest, dear aunt?”
    Lady Eloise put her hand over Joyce’s and sighed. “This is a dilemma, but I see, no way to solve it. Lord Blackburn must be invited to our soirée .”
    â€œWhat has he done to distress you