**Chapter 7**
Charlotte walked into the drawing room. It was already late morning, with strong sunlight shining through, but she was still rubbing her eyes and yawning. She had stayed up late the night before, talking with Leopold.
‘I’m glad I can help Prince Leopold. A prince who spent his childhood in England…’
Charlotte thought this as she yawned for the third time. Just winning the favor of Count Oslo showed how capable he was. Leopold knew a lot about English noblemen her age and their families. On top of that, his knowledge and insight into people made her feel more prepared to mingle with high-ranking gentlemen at the reception.
‘Honestly, just spending time near him makes me feel as though I’ve absorbed some of his grace. At this rate, I might really look like a lady trained at the royal court.’
Charlotte sat down in a ladylike manner on one of the drawing room chairs. Across from her, Helena was practicing piano, while their mother Lydia was reading. Young Katie was sitting at the secretary desk in the corner, writing a letter. With an ink smudge still on her cheek, Katie hopped toward Charlotte the moment she entered.
“Charlotte! You’re finally up. I was just writing to Jane about your performance yesterday at the Oslo Duke’s mansion.”
Katie said this excitedly.
“Bianca already told the maids everything—how clever you were, and how the royal minister, Count Oslo, and the young gentlemen behind him looked at you.”
Katie shook her dazzling blonde hair, proud like a true Augusta daughter.
“And then Nanny Sidney cried, saying, ‘It looks like Lady Charlotte is finally ready to marry.’”
By the fireplace, Bianca and the maid Colleen burst into laughter. They were holding pieces of fabric, likely to make new hair ornaments for the ball.
Katie was about to continue, but Lydia stepped in.
“Now, Katie, calm down and finish your letter to Jane. And a lady cannot write with ink all over her face. After you’re done, go ask Sidney to wash you up.”
Lydia gently pushed Katie toward her desk, then turned with practiced ease to Bianca and Colleen.
“Bianca, stop giggling and check if Aunt Elicia has fallen asleep in the garden again. If she has, bring her a blanket. Colleen, please fetch Charlotte the breakfast she missed.”
Bianca pouted but obeyed, taking a blanket to the garden, while Colleen gathered up the fabric and went to the kitchen. With only Helena’s piano left filling the room, Lydia turned back to Charlotte.
“Charlotte, you mustn’t skip breakfast with your family and sleep in so late. While you were sleeping, Philip Oslo, the son of the Duke, came to see you.”
“The Duke’s son?” Charlotte asked in surprise.
“Yes,” Lydia nodded. “It seems the Duke asked him to deliver the invitation in person. Do you remember the group of gentlemen standing behind the Duke and the royal minister yesterday? Philip Oslo was one of them.”
From across the room, Katie chimed in.
“Philip Oslo is incredibly handsome, unlike his father!”
“Katie, I told you before—a young lady shouldn’t say such things,” Lydia scolded gently, then turned back to Charlotte.
“Anyway, he must have been impressed with you. I only expected to reduce the compensation money, but you actually made that stubborn Duke apologize to you directly. Philip Oslo had never seen his father like that. He insisted on meeting you himself to deliver the ball invitation.”
“He was impressed with me? Oh my…” Charlotte murmured, her cheeks pink.
Instead of answering, Lydia winked. A gentleman delivering an invitation in person… it wouldn’t be strange if he asked Charlotte for the first dance at the ball. That was something men often did when they had feelings for a lady.
Charlotte’s face turned bright red at the thought.
‘To think that I might receive a dance request from someone who isn’t a cousin my father arranged! Even if Philip Oslo weren’t handsome—even if he had a ridiculous beard like his father—I’d still be thrilled!’
At that moment, Helena stopped playing the piano and turned.
“Charlotte, since when were you so interested in art pieces? And naval battles in England? Do we even have anyone in the family who served in the navy?”
Caught in her daydream, Charlotte stammered.
“H-huh? Oh, come on, Helena, you know I love reading. And… well, Aunt Elicia told me stories, too.”
Helena narrowed her eyes.
“Charlotte, don’t lie. The books you read are mostly…”
It was true Charlotte often read, but her choices were always the same—romances, guides about love, and dreamy stories. Just as Helena was about to press her, Colleen returned with Charlotte’s belated breakfast.
“Helena, let’s talk later. I’m starving…”
Charlotte grabbed the tray and backed toward the stairs to avoid further questions.
—
“Ughhh…”
Charlotte groaned. Philip Oslo might actually ask her to dance. To prepare for that historic moment, she piled up every dance manual and etiquette book she could find in the house. But the stiff lecture-like texts and messy illustrations just wouldn’t stick in her mind.
‘When exactly am I supposed to remove my gloves, and how?’
Charlotte sighed, reading the section about how gloves carried different meanings: tugging one end meant “I’m interested in you,” pulling them off to the wrist meant “I belong to you.” A lady had to know these things, but if she practiced wrong, people might take it the wrong way.
“I should’ve paid attention during etiquette lessons. But Miss Maria kept scolding me so much…”
Charlotte mumbled, remembering how her governess always criticized her for being slower than her sisters. Instead of learning etiquette properly, she had learned only how to hide her mistakes from others.
The sun set, and Colleen lit candles in Charlotte’s room. She was still struggling with her books when—
“Is your ideal husband hiding in one of those pages?”
The scent of autumn leaves drifted in along with Leopold’s calm voice. Charlotte’s head shot up.
“Prince Leopold!”
She smiled brightly at him. Leopold chuckled at her excitement.
“No one else in the world would greet a ghost so warmly.”
Charlotte’s face glowed with joy anyway.
“I was just hoping you could help me.”
Looking at his handsome face made her feel better.
“My help, is it?”
Leopold raised an eyebrow and sat down beside her.
“So, what is it that the lady needs my help with?”
Charlotte suddenly wondered why he called her “lady” instead of using her name. Shouldn’t they be close enough to say “Miss Augusta”?
But her impatience about the ball made her explain.
“It’s about your reception ball, Your Highness. Since it’s a royal event, I really don’t want to disgrace the Augusta family. But this etiquette book is impossible! It says I can’t even move a glove or gesture without meaning something. Isn’t that too much?”
She glared at the book, then continued.
“If I do well at the ball, it’ll be easier to approach your ‘old friend.’ And also…”
“And also easier to approach your potential suitors,” Leopold added quietly, watching her. Charlotte’s ears turned red.
“W-well, yes, that too.”
It was her first chance to dance properly with a real gentleman. And with a Count’s son, no less. If her parents saw that, they might finally stop worrying about her.
Charlotte leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a big secret.
“Actually, while I was asleep today, Philip Oslo came. He wanted to deliver the invitation to me personally. Which means…”
“He plans to ask you for a dance,” Leopold finished for her. “That’s why you’re so desperate to study etiquette.”
Remembering English society rules, he looked at her flushed, excited face.
‘She looks as though dancing with a gentleman is the most serious matter in the world.’
Then he smiled faintly.
“All right, Lady. I’ll help you.”
With that, Leopold reached for Charlotte’s gloves.
—
