Another debt too large to pay.
“Won’t you help me think of what to do, Gran? Mother could end up in debtors’ prison.”
Lady Alice snorted. “I doubt it. Your mother has more lives than a cat.”
“Please, Gran?”
Gran studied her granddaughter and her face softened. “All right, my minx. So long as youpromiseto spare a minute to think of your own troubles?”
“Of course.”
“I suppose you want to find a way to pay Margot’s debt?”
“Yes, but it’s going to be tricky. My dowry would cover it easily, if the trustees would allow me to crack into—”
Lady Alice snorted again. “Not a chance.”
Charlotte plonked her elbows on the table and settled her chin morosely in her hands. “I wish I could write Julian for the funds, but it would take months for a letter to reach him, let alone to get a reply.”
Black thoughts pressed into Charlotte’s head. It seemed to her that the real scandal was how little control she had over her own funds. She and Gran were surrounded by riches, yet they couldn’t access more than their allowances without the express permission of a man. Even most of the jewelry Charlotte wore belonged to the estate. Still, there must besomeway to—
“Wait, Gran! The pearls, my diamond brooch, and the amethyst parure—they were all gifts. They belong tomedirectly. What do you think, would they fetch a thousand pounds?”
Gran considered. “Three thousand pounds, when you add in my jewelry. My emerald drops alone are worth five hundred.”
Charlotte’s eyes pricked. “Not your jewels, Gran. I don’t want you to—”
“As if I’d leave you alone in this. You may have my jewels, and I’ll also tell the trustees I need more funds for expanding my orangerie. I suspect I can wheedle as much as two thousand pounds from them before they kick up a fuss. AndI’llbe the one to fuss if we can’t draw at least a thousand from your dowry. That’s six thousand pounds we’ve found together.”
Charlotte had to blink hard not to cry. “It’s a promising start.”
Levy hustled into the room. “The newspapers, your ladyship. I brought them as soon as they arrived.”
The dowager steadied herself with a deep breath and handed one paper to Charlotte, keeping the other for herself. “Shall we see just how big a scandal we’re facing?”
But Charlotte was already staring down at the newsprint in her hands. “Oh dear. TheMorning Herald’s calling me Scarlet Charlotte. I suppose it’s quite clever, actually. Does theTimessay anything?”
“Not a word!” Gran sounded rather strangled.
Levy, standing behind her, peered closer. “It’s right there, your ladyship. Do you not see the headline? Charlotte the Har—”
“Never mind, Levy!” squawked the dowager.
Charlotte offered up a sickly smile.
CHAPTER 7
Charlotte wasn’t a coward, butshe was tempted to call for a bucket of champagne and a box of bonbons and spend the rest of the day in bed. If the world was ending, why not greet it drunk and chocolate-covered? But she didn’t want to alarm her grandmother or let Major Dumbarton’s hot, grubby hands push her plans off course, so she hired a hackney cab and trundled off with Ivy to see about her one other source of funds.
Her silk mill.
She’d won five thousand pounds betting on Anna’s knowledge of horses and funneled it all into silk, but the mill wasn’t quite up and running yet. So instead her hackney headed through the streets of Mayfair to Hanover Square, where it came to a halt in front of the entrance to a trim brick building with a polished bronze plaque that readJOSEPHINE’S.
When Charlotte pushed open the glossy black door, Josephine herself stood waiting in the center of the atelier. She was, as always, wearing one of her own creations, a deceptively plain lilac shift with a matching lilac braid at the top of the bodice and a pale blue fichu of whisper-thin silk tucked into the neckline. Charlotte marveled at how the simplicity of the design drew attention to the immaculate construction, the sheen of the fabric, and how the coolness of the colors played off against the rich, glowing brown of Josephine’s complexion.
“My goodness, Josephine, you look glorious,” said Charlotte. “Would it be too rude of me to whistle?”
Josephine allowed herself a smile. “Save your whistles for our silk. The samples arrived late yesterday.”
