The Garden Party Disaster
“How was thecrossing from Boston?” Amelia asked, accepting a cup of tea from Charlotte in her private sitting room. “Two weeks at sea! I can hardly imagine it.”
“Ghastly,” Charlotte replied, settling onto the settee beside Elisha. “TheBritanniais supposedly the finest steamship in the Cunard fleet, but I spent most days in my cabin, desperately wishing for solid ground. Though watching Andrew readjust to London Society has been endlessly entertaining. Two years in Boston’s business world has quite transformed him.”
“Don’t tell me he’s gone completely American?” Elisha asked, grinning.
“Wonderfully so,” Charlotte’s eyes danced with mischief. “You should have seen him at our first London dinner party. He’d forgotten all about changing for evening dress. Walked right in wearing his business attire. The faces of these stuffed-shirt aristocrats! Though I must say, watching my former dock worker husband lecture them about American shipping efficiency was worth every scandalized gasp.”
“How is he finding Boston?” Amelia asked. “It must be quite a change from the London docks.”
“He thrives there. No one cares that he was born common. They care that he’s clever with ships and trade. When these railway investors insisted he return to London for meetings, he complainedthe entire voyage about having to ‘play fancy lord’ again.”
The three women dissolved into laughter, the sound of their friendship inviting.
“Tell us about the railway meetings,” Elisha said. “Edgar’s been absolutely obsessed with the venture, but he only shares the dullest details.”
“Lancaster’s probably trying to protect you from the drama,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes. “Lord Norwich and Lord Hereford have turned every meeting into a battlefield of veiled insults and competing proposals.”
“Norwich has been wonderfully helpful with my factory investigation,” Amelia said. “His insights into business practices have been invaluable.”
“And Hereford’s been his usual insufferable self, I imagine,” Charlotte said, though her tone held an odd note.
“When he bothers to notice common journalists at all.” Amelia stirred her tea with more vigor than necessary. “Though he graced me by explaining my own printing press to me a while back.”
“Men do love explaining things we already know,” Charlotte said. “Andrew tried to tell me how to feed my own pets.”
“Pets? What kind of pets?” Elisha asked.
Charlotte suddenly sat up straighter. “Wait here! I brought something back from America that you simply must see.”
Her voice held barely contained excitement.
“Charlotte Carlisle, what have you done?” Amelia asked, meeting Elisha’s gaze nervously.
A moment later, Charlotte’s triumphant “Ta-da!” was accompanied by tiny chittering sounds and two small, masked faces in her arms.
“Are those… raccoons?” Amelia leaned forward, fascinated.
“Yes. Orphans. One is missing from the basket.” Charlotte frowned as the creatures scrambled onto her shoulders. “I found themnear our hotel in America. I couldn’t just leave the poor things, and finding proper care while we’re away proved impossible…”
“So, you smuggled them across the Atlantic?” Elisha asked, watching one kit make a determined attempt at Charlotte’s earring.
“Smuggled is such an ugly word. I prefer ‘diplomatically transported.’” Charlotte beamed as the raccoons investigated her elaborate hairstyle.
“And your husband agreed to this?” Amelia asked, doubting even a man as lovesick as Andrew Carlisle would tolerate such inevitable chaos.
“No, not at all. But I reasoned that they’re far less trouble than the railway venture, which is why we’re staying in England until they settle the main issues. If it weren’t for the proposed line aiding Madame Tansley’s rescue missions, I would have insisted he sell his shares. Investing in a venture across the Atlantic seems to me like an apoplexy-inducing idea.”
“I believe the charitable work is what has Edgar and Lord Hereford so invested,” Elisha said.
“Lord Hereford may just see it as another business opportunity.”
“Don’t be too quick to judge,” Elisha said. “He might keep his charitable works quiet, but he’s not lacking in compassion.”
Amelia was distracted by Charlotte’s pointed stare at her, her eyes narrowed.
“I believe you are attracted to the marquess, Amelia Thornton,” Charlotte declared.
