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Chapter Four
Seth pulled his lips to the side, surveying the grand picnic laid out before him. Servants bustled about, busy with the last details. Soon guests would be arriving. More than a small part of him urged him to cry off before any made their appearance. But Charlotte had insisted he come, so he was here.
It was as simple as that.
And as terrifying.
He wasn’t exactly privy to all the details regarding who’d been invited, but he knew enough.
“Well?” Charlotte asked, coming to stand beside him. She looked radiant in a sunny—and no doubt expensive—soft yellow dress with a rich blue spencer jacket over the top. “Do you think my guests will all approve?”
No one would daredisapprove.Not of Lady Blackmore or her picnic. Charlotte could serve old mushrooms atop stale bread and every guest would smile and compliment.
It both caused him ease—he could not stomach the idea of anyone criticizing Charlotte—and was a truth he sincerely disliked. One could not trust where there was a lack of honesty.
“All seems well-suited,” he said.
Her brow creased, and her lips pressed together.
Had he said something wrong?
“That’s all? First my ball was merely ‘refined,’ and now my picnic is no better than ‘well-suited’?”
Given her tone, hehadsaid something wrong.
“It is quite . . .” How did one of the upper echelon compliment a picnic? He knew how to convince a wavering businessman to agree to a deal. He could bargain with the costermongers in Town until his food cost nearly nothing. But compliment a picnic? It should be simple.
It wasn’t.
Charlotte’s expression wasn’t lightening in his long silence. He grabbed at the first words that came to him.
“Cheerful. There are lots of colorful blankets...and dishes...and such.”
“Then I can only hope ‘cheerful’ is enough.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’ve asked several committee members for the asylum to come today.”
Charlotte had told him that she’d attended the most recent meeting. Having a woman present was not usual, but neither was it unprecedented.
“Any more information on why Emma was so upset the other day? Or what has gone so wrong for her?” He offered her his arm, and together they began moving around the outer perimeter of where the picnic was set up.
Charlotte called to a footman and asked him to move one of the blankets a little closer to a tree where it was better shaded before answering Seth. “For the first half of the meeting, Lord Finch only said they hadn’t time to discuss her circumstances. When I insisted, I learned nothing new. Everyone seems to know now that she wishes for the asylum to find her new employment, but no one knows why.”
Seth folded his arms. “Rather, no onecareswhy.”
Charlotte nodded her agreement. “Some, such as Lord Campbell, believe she ought to be given a tincture for nerves and sent back. Others, such as Lord Windham, insist if she can’t be happy where she is, it isn’t our problem any longer. I don’t know exactly what he believes we ought to do with her, but I wouldn’t put it past him to toss her out on the streets to fend for herself.”
“The whole aim of the asylum is to keep girlsoffthe streets.” Since learning Charlotte was a patroness of the orphanage, he’d taken the time to read all the literature put out by the organization. The aim was quite clear—they sought to take in orphaned girls for the express purpose of keeping them safe and giving them the education needed to secure an income.
“Precisely. But she is of age. The orphanage can’t house her any longer.” Charlotte stood back, looking over the long table with various serving dishes placed across the top. With a few words she instructed a footman to move a couple platters around before returning to her conversation with Seth. “Which is why I chose to host a late-summer picnic in the first place. Perhaps a more relaxed setting will help all come to an agreement.”
“Then you’ve invited the entire committee?” Maybe he should escape. That was rather a larger group than he’d anticipated.
“No, just the few who influence the rest.” She moved away from him a bit, twisting a large, oval platter around. “And an old friend. He’s only just arrived in London.” She continued down the table, swapping a plate of peach slices with the ham. Then she straightened the lines of glasses.
Seth remained near the far end of the table. An old friend?
Normally he wouldn’t have given the softly spoken statement a second thought. After all, one did not get to his or Charlotte’s age without collecting several ‘old friends.’
But there had been something in her tone. In the way her voice had dropped, even softened. In the way she seemed unwilling to look at him now. Seth didn’t know who this old friend may be, but he was suddenly certain he wasn’t going to like the man.
