(no subject)
Today, Charlotte Bridgerton is exactly twenty-three and a half. She is certain it is October 27, 1845, and she is certain to be proven wrong rather quickly. That isn't what she is concerned with. One strand of her curly brown hair has fallen out of place and so she is too busy shoving it back into place to notice right away in order to get back to her mission that the mansion she has wandered into is decidedly not her home.
When she does, however, which will be rather quickly (she is a rather observant creature), she won't let herself appear overly startled as she smoothes out her (bright yellow, everyday, slightly out-of-fashion) dress and looks around.
"Well, then. Unless I've gone mad or there's been a bit of spontaneous redecorating -- not that I'd put that past Miles, at the very least -- this isn't Aubrey Hall. Would anyone care to tell me where I am?"
This looks to her as though it could be a grand adventure and she's smiling at the thought.
Typist: Charlotte Bridgerton, daughter of Kate and Anthony Bridgerton, stars of Julia Quinn's The Viscount Who Loved Me, and entirely Maja's fault, really, I swear.
When she does, however, which will be rather quickly (she is a rather observant creature), she won't let herself appear overly startled as she smoothes out her (bright yellow, everyday, slightly out-of-fashion) dress and looks around.
"Well, then. Unless I've gone mad or there's been a bit of spontaneous redecorating -- not that I'd put that past Miles, at the very least -- this isn't Aubrey Hall. Would anyone care to tell me where I am?"
This looks to her as though it could be a grand adventure and she's smiling at the thought.
Typist: Charlotte Bridgerton, daughter of Kate and Anthony Bridgerton, stars of Julia Quinn's The Viscount Who Loved Me, and entirely Maja's fault, really, I swear.