She had been so jealous of these people. Not the Fairfaxes specifically, but people like them. People less than the Fairfaxes. Hadn’t she dreamed of being a cobbler’s daughter, a baker’s daughter, anything but what she was? If this was how poor fashionable people lived, what must home life have been like for the poor but respectable children who had spit at her in the streets?
Guilt clawed at her. The weight of her mother prostituting herself had been all Charlotte could feel, all she could see. She’d been too hurt, too ashamed to consider that perhaps the reason her mother didn’t quit her profession was because she didn’t want Charlotte to grow up without food or clothing.
She couldn’t imagine the childhood Anthony must have had. Rich one moment, in abject poverty the next. It was clear that his mother loved him. It was equally clear that no one in his family could be trusted with so much as a farthing.
No wonder he was in the predicament he was in. He was too fashionable to pursue a trade, too poor to resist the allure of making a fortune with a simple wager. Caught in the middle.
She took another look at the bare walls, the carpet-less floor. Even if Anthony had wished to pursue a trade or business management, with what capital would he have made his investment? She ran her fingers over the threadbare blanket. All possible paths had led him straight to the gaming tables…and to ruin.
“You’re awake.” Anthony pushed up from the floor with a smile. “How did you sleep?”
“Very well, thank you,” she lied. The tester and curtains were missing from the bed, and the draft from the window had given her gooseflesh every time the wind blew. She sat up. “You’re already dressed. Are you parents early risers, too?”
“Not unless midday is early.” His lips curved in self-deprecation. “I used to be even worse. All night in the vice parlors, all morning making up for lost sleep.” His amusement faded. “I suppose I’ll have plenty of time to sleep in Marshalsea.”
“No,” she said sharply. “The Duke of Courteland’s will remains to be heard. Perhaps my sire made me sole heiress of all his riches.”
Anthony’s face twisted, but he made no comment.
He didn’t have to. Charlotte’s shoulders slumped. They both knew how improbable that was.
After she, too, was washed and dressed, she upended the contents of their purses atop the bed. It had become something of an obsession to count their money every night. And every morning. But no matter how many times she sorted the bills and coins into small, short piles, they never added up to enough. What they needed was a miracle.
A knock sounded on the front door.
Anthony frowned. “It’s far too early for a social call.”
He headed to the door all the same. Scroggs had been given her pay last night, along with several glowing letters of recommendation. She had made her escape posthaste. There was no one left to answer the door.
Charlotte started to follow, then hung back just out of sight. This was London. She could not let her comfort at being with Anthony make her forget the harsh reality of the world outside. The last thing she wished was to be treated with contempt right here in his parents’ house.
As mortifying as such an experience would be, it would be even more humiliating to know that she’d harmed his parents’ reputation by her mere presence.
Anthony opened the creaky door. “Yes?”
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” gushed a female voice, “but I am in a dreadful way. One of the ladies in my book club told me I simply must speak to Mrs. Fairfax, who will put everything to rights. Have I called at the correct address?”
“I’m afraid my mother is still abed. If you’d like to leave a calling card—”
“Your mother?” sputtered the female voice. “Oh, no. I’m looking for a young Mrs. Fairfax. Not a day over twenty, I’m told. Pretty face, yellow hair...”
Charlotte’s heart thumped. The woman was looking for her?
She stepped around the corner before she could lose her courage. “Good morning. I’m Mrs. Fairfax. How may I help you?”
A completely unfamiliar matron wearing an exquisite fur-lined pelisse and a breathtaking diamond necklace stood in the doorway. To Charlotte’s utter shock, not only did the woman’s face light up upon spotting her, but the lady also bobbed slightly, as if giving a hurried curtsey.
Charlotte’s mouth fell open in amazement. She had never been curtsied to in all her life. Had never even dreamed of it.
And it had happened right here. In front of Anthony!
“It is you. I am certain of it.” The lady clasped her silk-gloved hands together. “You absolutely must come with me at once. That is, at your earliest convenience. I shall pay extra. The situation, you see, is dire. I am having an absolute crisis with the downstairs maids, and my housekeeper has threatened to find other employment. I cannot possibly lose her! Mrs. Trimble has worked at Roundtree Manor longer than I’ve been alive.”
Charlotte stared at her. A crisis with the downstairs maids? At Roundtree Manor?
“Lady Roundtree.” Anthony sketched a quick bow. “Forgive me for not immediately recognizing you.”
“Never mind that, young man. I am in positive jeopardy. A baronetcy may not compare to a duchy or an earldom, but it is my duty to see it run just as efficiently. Except the details have always been Mrs. Trimble’s responsibility. Heavens, I’ve never spoken to the servants. I would be lost! My dear, you are my last hope. Mrs. Podmore said you sorted out her hunt for a governess. Do say you’ll come to Roundtree Manor and sort out my housekeeper at once. You may name your price.”
“That does sound appalling,” Anthony said with a glance at his pocket watch. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Fairfax is booked solid the rest of the morning.”
Charlotte slanted a shocked stare in his direction.
“But if you would like to send a coach for her at six o’clock this evening,” he continued easily, “I am certain my wife can spare a moment to speak with your staff before they begin to prepare the evening meal.”
“Yes,” Lady Roundtree gushed. “This absolutely must be resolved before supper. It shall be as you say. A coach will be right on that corner, promptly at six. Thank you ever so much.”
When the door closed behind Lady Roundtree, Charlotte launched herself at Anthony. “That was the wealthy old biddy we needed. Why would you tell her I’m booked solid? What if she had shrugged and walked away?”
“For one,” Anthony said as he swung her in celebratory circles, “proper ladies never shrug.”
She pulled out of his embrace. “I’m serious. What if she had left? We need this money. You need this money.”
“Not just this money—two thousand quid more.” Anthony took her hand. “Trust me, darling. I live in this world. Never let them believe getting what they want will be easy. By appearing selective and exclusive, your price undoubtedly just tripled.” He grinned. “Whatever she offers to pay you, double it. And don’t blink an eye.”
“Double it?” Charlotte choked. She had no idea how much Lady Roundtree believed speaking to a housekeeper was worth, but the sum was no doubt far more exorbitant than the task merited. “Why would she pay it?”
He clasped his hands together and affected a pose of sweeping tragedy. “Because it is a crisis, darling. The lady is in positive jeopardy.”
Charlotte burst out laughing at his dramatic rendition. But more than humor, he had given her a measure of hope. If Anthony could not amass enough money to stay out of prison, she would offer every penny she owned if it would buy them even a few more weeks together.