The night air held a metallic aroma that lingered even after the factories were put to rest for the day. As the common people slept through the night, tired from their labors, the ton carried on through the night without a care for the next day. Charlotte Taylor stood at the window, watching the lights of the town flicker, as if mimicking the stars above. The world was presented to her as if it were a painting up for auction. Always just within her reach, but never able to truly experience it beyond the confined life her parents made for her. A chaperone always at her side, days filled with tea, studies, and preparations for the next coming ball. Always a new dress, but always the same group of people in the same halls. Even now, the same music filled the room, couples dancing the night away, while their caperones hovered close by. Others peacocked in hopes of finding a suitor before the end of the season. It was more than Charlotte could stand; a room full of people with no one truly listening to one another.

"Charlotte?" A soft wispy voice rang, jogging her from her own thoughts. Her sun-kissed friend stood beside her, discreetly working to gain her friends attention. From the disapproving look, it was not the first time she had called Charlotte's name.

"Forgive me, I must be tired." Charlotte painted her face with a smile as she gave Shirley the attention she desired. It was true they were friends, by society's standards they were practically sisters. Still, they never spoke out of turn. No secrets were shared, no honest feelings toward one another. All their conversations were conducted as they were trained: carefully choose your words as to not offend, and gossip was only tolerated if it didn't cause a public scene. Turning to her friend gave the impression Shirley had her undivided attention, when, in fact, part of Charlotte was still pondering about the world outside of their own.

"Have you heard, Miss. Cambridge is going to be Mrs. Prescott soon. That will make you both equals after marriage." Shirley enjoyed the gossip of society, but Charlotte could not care less. Where one ranked after marriage mattered little to her, even when it came to her own status. Her engagement last season had been the talk of the decade, and yet she continued to act as though she was marrying an invalid.

"Then we will be seeing her at tea more often, it would be a nice change of things." Charlotte was honest; the fact someone bettered themselves and found love was a rare thing in their world. She did enjoy the idea of a little change in their lives, but from the look on Shirley's face she didn't agree. Her hazel eyes held a spark of jealousy over the ordeal as she fiddled with a blond lock of hair. Her friend was usually kind to others, but she cared a great deal about position. Her own marriage set her close in stature to Charlotte, but nothing like Emily Cambridge.

"It doesn't seem right, to climb so high in rank and expect to be treated as such instantly. She didn't even have the same schooling as us." Shirley was flustered to be outranked once more, and Charlotte understood. The girl's mother had high hopes for her daughter, but the cards weren't in her favor. Shirley was a lovely girl, full of pale locks and russet eyes, but her figure showed her indulgence in sweets. Indulgence wasn't a good quality in a high society woman. They were meant to be reserved, patient, and always in control of themselves. Not to mention Shirley's figure always made her seem rather short, despite the fact that she and Charlotte were the same height. Charlotte's slender figure gave her the appearance of height even though she was fairly small.

"Her engagement was not her doing, you cannot spite her for that. Besides she looks delighted, I doubt she cares much about the position. I dare say she cares more for the man than the title." The conversation was turning to hostile gossip, and quickly. Charlotte began walking Shirley to the punch bowl in hopes a spirit, or two would calm her annoyance toward the poor girl. In truth Charlotte was happy for Emily; one could even say envious. To find affection in an arranged match was almost unheard of. Then again, that was how the game was done here; the parents played the game, while their children were the cards they traded or discarded. Boys were always held till the last draw, while daughters were tossed in the pile, free to be claimed by other players. Charlotte's father had a different hand; no sons, only Charlotte. However, she was the trump card everyone wanted, and so, her father had held her card until last season. The daughter of a railroad tycoon and an heir to London's primer Shipyard made a fine match as far as progress was concerned, never mind the fact Charlotte hated the young man, and avoided him at all costs.

Alexander Hanover had never been unpleasant, but he did not bother getting to know her the entire year they had been courting. He paraded her around like a show pony; if she kept silent their whole marriage she was sure he'd consider it a perfect one. It seemed that even though her father won the hand, she was still the prize to be placed on the shelf.

"Dear friend, you forget yourself. She had more than a satisfactory education. I dare say she has a few skills far superior to my own. Her embroidery is exquisite, and her poetry is quite the conversation at these events." Charlotte didn't enjoy the idea of judging others by their parents. Nor did she enjoy want to humor her friends' aggravations any longer. Her response held a stern tone in hopes of derailing the conversation entirely. The discussion would come to an end, but not by Charlotte's doing. No, the two were beckoned by Alexander from across the way to join him. As much as she wished to ignore it, an end to the gossip was welcomed. Charlotte couldn't bear the thought of her good name becoming the whisper of this fine night. Charlotte and Shirley obliged the request for company and joined Alexander and the group of men who were with him. Alexander was tall, slender, and clean shaven with sandy hair and pale blue eyes. He was everything one would want in a Count, and yet Charlotte was begging to get away before she ever made it to his side.

"Gentlemen, May I present future Mrs. Hanover, Miss. Charlotte Taylor, and her lovely friend Mrs. Nottingham." Alexander was boasted, but it wasn't for the reasons she'd hoped for. He was simply showing her off like a new toy to all the other sons of high position. Alexander wanted them to be jealous as they continued their search for the right girl with a sizable dowry and title to claim for themselves. Alexander sung her praises, but it said nothing about who she was. Then again, how could he? He didn't actually know her. They never spoke of anything that gave way for an opinion. When such an event would come up he dismissed it before she ever had the chance to speak. The men took turns congratulating her, which she accepted as means of being polite.

It was the same every night. Women on display like china dolls while their chaperones kept close behind, older men in the other room smoking – having nothing to prove to the younger crowd. So here she was: dressed in an emerald gown trimmed in gold, her crimson hair locked in tight ringlets, a mask of powder and red waxed lips. She was all ready to be pulled from her trinket box and shown to the new group of friends he found for himself. Charlotte hated it, but Shirley lived for such things. The men continued on with their discussion of their changes when they inherited their family estates, companies, and lands. Shirley was the perfect complement to the ordeal as she inflated their egos with amazement and praise to their imagination. Charlotte on the other hand felt her stomach turn.

"Rather than downsize, wouldn't it be wiser to keep the people you have and expand on innovation?" Charlotte finally commented on the subject, and it was as if she just shot one of their members. The men fell silent as they looked from her to Alexander. A woman speaking of such thing was not common, or welcome.

"Darling, companies are complicated. Such a positive notion is a testament to your loving heart." Alexander was undermining her, and playing off that she knew nothing of the topic. The men followed suit, playing off her comment to the notion that all women wanted positive outcomes for all. Shirley never spoke on the matter; she simply pretended as though her friend didn't just made a fool of herself or her fiancé.

"Forgive me, I must be tired. Excuse me." Charlotte dipped her skirts, and left their company without bothering to take Shirley with her. Even if she was embarrassed, it wasn't over her comment. Alexander knew she was right to consider other options, but he chalked it up to her feminine heart. Charlotte knew better than to voice such things in public, but sometimes listening to Alexander speak so carelessly of others drove her mad. It seemed none of the men cared about progress, or the well-being of the people who worked for them. As the night carried on, Charlotte showed herself out through a servant's corridor. It was a short walk home, and abandoning her escort for a while would allow her to breathe. She would deal with the repercussions later.

Pulling her cloak over her vibrant hair, she took her time biting away at the distance between herself and home. The stone street echoed her footsteps back at her, and the night was still: no life seemed to be present besides her own. Well, herself and the man she bumped into. The moment of contact set her off balance, but the man caught her before her body had time to find the ground. His figure towered over her, but the night hid much of his features. Her hood dropped as she looked up at him.

"My apologizes. I -." Charlotte spoke softly, her nervousness getting the best of her, but the man cut her off with a deep, rich voice that enveloped her senses.

"The fault was mine Miss, No harm done."

His skin was caramel from the sun; his jacket fine, but nothing that signified any status. He even smelled of musk and copper. Why was he so far uptown? Not that it mattered at the moment, the more pressing matter was the fact he was still holding her even after she had collected herself.

"Well, I thank you, and this is where I leave you." Charlotte pushed herself from his grasp, and pulled her hood back over her head.

"Considering there is no rain, it appears you're hiding from something." The strange man chuckled at her as she moved past him.

"I'm not hiding, I simply don't want to be found." Her response to him was sarcastic, but she had nothing to worry about with a stranger of no rank. It would never get back to her father, and she would never see him again in a town as grand as London. Charlotte quickly turned the corner, allowing the night to cover her tracks and vanish from the stranger. Nothing exciting ever happened around here, at least not until now.

Once home Charlotte slid into her room, successfully avoiding her mother who normally stayed up waiting for her to come home. At this late hour it was clear she left her daughter in the hands of her chaperone who was still at the party. Not that it mattered anymore; Charlotte was known for running off when she had enough. A good scolding over breakfast would await her at most. Unconcerned with the consequences of her actions she fought off her dress, leaving it in a heap of silk and ribbons on the floor and climbing into bed. As she lay there, the only thought that occupied her mind was the stranger in the night. She recalled the feeling of his chest as she pushed herself from him; he was hard as stone, and broad unlike any man she'd ever seen. He resembled a Grecian statue when she accounted his height, wide frame, and muscular arms that no coat could hide, and his skin glimmered like honey unlike anything she'd ever seen. It was clearly a product of manual labor; but he had to be of some authority considering the well-tailored suit coat he was wearing. His hair was disheveled, appearing almost black in the night if not for the small bit of light from the lamppost that was casting over them. The longer Charlotte thought of him the more she noticed a fever overtaking her face

Charlotte realized her mind was fixating on the short event, and it was driving her crazy. Although, she wasn't sure what was making her crazier: thinking of a man she didn't know, or the fact her mind wouldn't come off the subject. There was no reason for such a reaction from her. Rolling over she forced herself to forget the whole thing. It was just as well too, after all she knew it wouldn't happen again. The man was out of her class, and that meant there would be no possible way for them to ever cross paths again.

Come morning, it was no surprise to find her parents waiting for her at the table; both showcasing a look of distaste.

"Morning Mama, Papa." Charlotte took a seat opposite her mother, but beside her father. If she were smart she, would have sat at the far end of the table, but it would only end in shouting. That much she didn't want to deal with.

"I see you made it home, thank the lord, considering you left the carriage and your chaperone." Lady Taylor hissed at her daughter as she continued to cut her food into small bites. Her mother was trying to conceal her temper, but her face was in knots from doing so. Charlotte was more than sure the few silver flecks in her mother auburn hair were the product of arguments such as these.

"Aunty was enjoying herself as she spoke with the other ladies, I wasn't going to bother her just to escort me to the carriage that I decided against taking." Charlotte tried to reason with her mother, but past events already told her it was pointless. Even after all this time her mother didn't trust her.

"That is beside the point! You cannot be so careless, something could have happened to you." Her mother put her silverware down with enough force to make Charlotte's plate tremble. Her father sat there silently as the two bickered, as was his usual. When her mother could take no more she excused herself to get ready for her afternoon walk. The tension that built in the room followed her mother, allowing her and her father to breathe.

"Papa, can't you speak with her? I am careful, and always have been. I simply needed some air before coming home." She pleaded with her father, who, at times was the only voice of reason in the house. Still, there were some things even he couldn't mend between the two ladies. With a heavy sigh, Mr. Taylor put his morning paper down and gave his daughter some much needed advice.

"Lottie, you knew once you were of age this would happen. I thought I had prepared you better for what was to come. Not to mention with your engagement chaperon is meant to keep any slander from befalling you." Her father spoke in a calm, reassuring voice, unlike her mother. She grew up under his feet, fascinated by his work and the world he operated in. Charlotte reminisced over the hours spent playing with old clocks on his library floor as business associates came in one-by-one. The fact she was so young and a girl normally made her invisible to his comrades; it worked to her advantage, before she realized it she had picked up a great deal of knowledge from them.

"Papa, I'm already cooped up like a bird, and soon I'll be married to a dodo in a shiny new age. I need time to breathe or I'll suffocate. There must be something you can do." Charlotte pleaded once more. It was already clear she was going to marry the man her father chose for her, and he knew she didn't like it. Still, she couldn't fight him on everything; she knew to pick and choose her battles.

Her father pondered the issue for a short while, folding his paper out of the way, and allowing the butler to clear his tableware. He wasn't going to punish his daughter for her opinion; in truth, some days he agreed with her. His respect for the boys' father and the company he ran was what determined the outcome of his decision last year. The young lad was just that, a young lad: full of ideas, but no experience on how to execute them. Mr. Taylor wanted to believe the young dodo, as Charlotte saw him, would grow up to be a fine man once he had a little experience under his wing.

"Very well, I will see what I can do, but only if you agree to my conditions-"

"Anything father! I promise." Charlotte cut him off just before clasping her mouth. She had a victory, but she didn't mean to be rude.

"You will make peace with your mother. I would like one meal that doesn't end with my plate rattling to the floor."

"Done."

"I want you to spend time with young Hanover and get to know him. Maybe you could show your worth is more than just your dowry." And there was the trump card her father had been holding. Having already agreed Charlotte knew better than to argue it.

"You would have made a fine young man, I only wish the world had more to offer you as you are, my darling." With that being said, he removed himself from the table, clasped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. Mr. Taylor loved his daughter as if she were his only son, and because of that, he allowed her more liberties as a child. It might be the reason for her fiery spirit now, but he didn't see anything wrong with a little spirit so long as her reputation stayed intact.

As he made his way to his study he crossed the halls of his family home, memories cascading like unrelenting rain against a window. A little girl with wispy red-hair following him, her small steps frantic to keep up with her father's long strides. He spent many days at his desk: reading proposals, business letters, others personal, all while his daughter played on the floor before him. Unlike other girls who played with their dolls, Charlotte taught her dolls. She would spend hours taking apart a clock and teaching her doll how to put it back together, just as he had done with her only days prior. Anything he taught her, she would turn around and teach her doll. Her mind was sharp, quick to learn, but more importantly she showed understanding. If she were born a son they would have made him a prodigy, but in their world there was no such thing as a female prodigy. Somedays Mr. Taylor cursed the world they lived in for that very reason. As she grew older her studies took a more traditional turn, and soon that little girl who loved to learn and play was gone; all grown-up and tied to her duties as a daughter, not as a son. Mr. Taylor sighed deeply as if expelling the sorrow from his soul. He only wanted his daughter to be happy, but that didn't seem possible when one paired his daughter's mindset with society's standards.