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Chapter Seventeen
The parlor door closed behind Emma as she followed a footman upstairs to lie down.
They’d discussed a few more things with the young woman, but she quickly had become overwhelmed and upset, and Charlotte had told her to rest for a time.
Seth leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as he listened to the quickly dissipating echoes of Emma walking up the stairs and higher into the house. Heaven help him, if that had been his own daughter, he would have wasted no time in visiting both Lords Baxter and Windham.
As it was, he couldn’t go storming out of the house...at least, not yet.
Seth opened his eyes once more to find Charlotte, who still sat on the settee across from him, nearly motionless. Her brow was creased, and concern was clearly written there. Though she did not move, he could tell by the intensity of her gaze that she was deep in thought.
“You were amazing, how you got her to finally open up and trust you.”
Charlotte didn’t look at him, but she did speak. “I wish I could have managed the thing sooner. To think of that poor young woman in such a position as that.”
The anger flared up in Seth once more, and he only nodded.
“I shall write to Lord Finch right away,” Charlotte said as she stood and crossed to the writing desk. She sat and took out a bit of paper, an ink jar, and quill. “He needs to know what’s happened. Then, I shall start inquiring regarding a position for Emma. I know several modistes in London. With any luck, at least one will be looking for another assistant.”
“If not one here in London, I have connections in most of the large towns. Bath, Liverpool, even as far as Northampton.” The weight of Emma’s revelation seemed to lift a bit as they both moved from shock and anger into planning.
“Or,” Charlotte said with a mischievous grin over her shoulder at him, that lifted the room yet more, “I could always decide I needallnew dresses. As does Susan, and your daughters, too. That would certainly cause any modiste to take on additional help.”
Seth half-smiled. “Or you could do that.”
She turned her back on him and unstopped the ink jar. For the next several minutes, the only sound in the room was thescritch-scratchof her quill against paper.
Seth watched her silently. She was undeniably brilliant. The way she’d handled the situation with Emma and managed to get to the heart of the matter was no small feat. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d called her tenacious to Lord Finch. When she had a task before her, she let nothing stand in her way. She went at it with a calm mind and a determined spirit.
Add to that, she spoke with nothing but respect to all people, no matter their station. She looked for ways to improve the lives of all she met. She encouraged his daughters and had helped them to bloom in ways he never could have. Though she’d known heartache—deep, soul-wrenching heartache—she’d allowed it to soften, not harden her. She’d risen from it with a desire to help others, with a better understanding ofhowshe might help others.
Was it any wonder he cared for her so deeply? Loved her, even?
Though after so many weeks of insisting they were nothing but friends, he could hardly expect anything from her in return.
“There,” Charlotte said, sitting back and holding up the newly penned letter.
“Lord Finch,” she began reading aloud, “I am pleased to inform you that I have ascertained the truth behind Miss Emma Tilbury’s meeting with Lord Windham.” From there, she detailed how Lord Windham had supplied Lord Baxter with a pretty young woman for a maid—one who had no family to watch over or protect her. In return, Lord Baxter either had, or promised to in the future, vote in Parliament how Lord Windham wished.
Then, when Emma had asked Lord Windham to help her find a new position yet again—she had not known at the time she’d been used—he threatened her sister and told her to stay put and stay silent.
Charlotte ended by saying she would be finding Emma a new position, but he needed to remove Lord Windham from the committee immediately. Such a man who used the girls placed in their charge to further his own designs had no part working for the asylum.
Seth listened, nodding at several points. When she was finished, he could not help but be quite impressed.
“Strong, well-worded,” he said. “I would have added something about Lord Windham being a road-eaten picaroon.”
“I thought about adding that, but it didn’t seem to flow with the rest of the paragraph.”
Seth chuckled softly.
“Now,” Charlotte said, jumping back into action as she stood and moved to pull the bell. “I’ve a few other letters to write, but I want to send this one first. Hopefully, we’ll have Lord Finch’s response by day’s end.”
“Should I leave you to it, then?”
She turned his way quickly enough that her skirts swished with the movement. “Leave?”
That she didn’t wish him gone touched him deeply. “I’d not want to be in the way.”
