“Then he is here?”
“He has gone out but is due to return before luncheon.”
“So I have until then,” Charlotte had said. “Daisy and I shall take a walk. We shan’t be long.”
Everet had stepped in front of the door, blocking Charlotte’s path. “Your father was adamant. He instructed me to tell you that should you decide to thwart his wishes, you would be putting my employment along with Daisy’s in jeopardy.”
Anger still rolled through Charlotte in waves, rising each time she recalled those words. She could scarcely wait for her father’s return so she could give him a piece of her mind. This situation was not to be borne.
A soft knock sounded and then her door opened. Daisy stepped in. She’d brought a fresh pot of tea along with two cups, bless her. “How are you feeling, miss?”
“Wretched and furious.” She watched Daisy set the tray down on top of her dresser. “They’ve taken the one thing I truly valued away from me. The ability to come and go as I please.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if your father is trying to make sure the only man you see from now on is Mr. Cooper,” Daisy said, her disdain for the viscount’s machinations unmistakable. “You can’t marry him.”
“As I told you last night, I do not plan to.”
“Good.” Daisy handed Charlotte a cup and took one for herself. Once Charlotte had taken a seat on the stool in front of her vanity table, Daisy perched herself on the edge of Charlotte’s bed. Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. Somehow, Daisy had sensed she needed a friend right now more than a maid.
“What about Mr. MacNeil?”
Charlotte shrugged in a hopeless attempt to mask the pain that gripped her at the mere mention of his name. “You know the situation. I am forbidden from seeing him again.”
“But you care for him.” Daisy’s probing gaze searched her face. “I know you do.”
Of course she did.
“It doesn’t matter.” Charlotte took a sip of her tea and fought the sting in her eyes. “I’ll just…I’ll have to find a way to deliver the money I owe him.”
Daisy shook her head. “I don’t think he’ll accept that.”
“He has to.”
“And what about your missing manuscript? Mr. MacNeil was trying to help you find it.” Daisy huffed. “You can’t give up now. Not when—”
“When what?” Charlotte set her teacup aside and stood. She felt as though she’d been pacing the room since yesterday. Her feet ached but once again, she had to move. “I am trapped, Daisy. Do you not understand? I cannot step outside on the pavement right now, let alone run around town with Mr. MacNeil for company. If someone sees us – if word gets back to my father, the situation would only get worse.”
“How can it possibly get worse than this?”
“For one thing, Papa could choose to sack you, which would put you in a bind while leaving me without my confidante. And I need you, Daisy, now more than ever before. So I cannot afford to take any risks.”
“You’re right. Of course you are. I’m just so unbelievably angry on your behalf.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte gave her the best smile she could manage at the moment. “Your support means the world to me.”
A frown creased Daisy’s brow. “No one’s stopping me from going out by myself.”
“Daisy…”
“If you want, I could give Mr. MacNeil a message from you.”
Emotion overtook Charlotte so forcefully, the tears she’d been fighting since yesterday finally spilled down her cheeks. She swiped them away and looked at her maid. “Thank you, Daisy. I did consider asking, but then I decided it would be selfish of me to do so. You’re not comfortable venturing into that part of town. Certainly not on your own.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
“Daisy, I—”
“Listen,” Daisy said, her voice more firm than Charlotte had ever heard it. “Mr. MacNeil might not be the sort of man you ought to want, but—”
“I don’t want any man, Daisy. Remember? I have no desire to form an attachment, get married, and lose my independence.”
“Are you really going to keep telling yourself that?” When Charlotte stayed stubbornly quiet, Daisy softened her voice and added, “I might not be more than a maid, but I’m not blind or stupid. There’s something between you and Mr. MacNeil – more than a passing flirtation. And while I know it’s not my place to say this, I think you’d be better off with him than without. Miss, I know you’ve had a plan for years with a certain goal in mind, but maybe it’s time for you to make a new goal – one that’s better suited to the current situation.”
“My parents will never give their approval.”
“Probably not, but you’re seven and twenty years old, so you don’t really need it. Not legally, anyway.”
“What you’re proposing would lead to scandal. People would talk, Daisy. My parents, perhaps even my sisters, would suffer the consequence of such selfish action.” Charlotte shook her head. “I won’t allow that so please, let’s not speak of it any further.”
“All right, but my offer to give Mr. MacNeil a message on your behalf still stands.”
At the very least, he might be able to keep on searching for the identity of the person who stole and then published her manuscript. Finding the thief would solve a great deal because then at least she’d be certain of an income with which she could help her father out of his bind so he’d not need Mr. Cooper’s help. Of course, even if she managed to accomplish that, she would still have to find Mr. Cooper another bride of equal or better social standing, which would not be the least bit simple. Certainly not within the space of only one week. Charlotte took a deep breath and decided it would be best to tackle one problem at a time.
“Thank you, Daisy. If you’re absolutely certain, I’d appreciate you giving Mr. MacNeil the payment he is owed.” Crossing to her desk, she pulled out a crisp piece of paper, readied her quill, and tried to think of what to write. Uncertainty gave her pause. Blayne was more than an employee, yet less than a fiancé. They weren’t really engaged, neither had a claim on the other, so running to him felt wrong, like she was asking him to commit to something he’d told her he didn’t want. But if he could help her regain control of the manuscript, she would at the very least have secured her income, which would be an excellent start.
“So what do you think?”
Blayne blinked, bringing Guthrie back into focus. The duke spoke from the corner of Blayne’s office, where he presently lounged in a plush velvet armchair. “About what?”
Guthrie sighed. “Have you not heard a single word I’ve just said? Christ almighty, Blayne, I’ve been talking to you for a good ten minutes at least.”
“Sorry.”
Guthrie frowned. “I want to know what you think of my idea to buy that vacant building I’ve been eyeing on Oxford Street, renovating it, and turning it into a tavern based on The Black Swan model. In my opinion the middle classes who frequent that part of town would appreciate a drinking hole. Right now, there’s a gap in the market there. Everything’s geared toward the wealthy Mayfair residents.”