Charlotte lowered herself to a chair upholstered in dark brown leather, after which Blayne and Mr. Agerson sat as well.
“My manuscript was stolen from Carlisle & Co. about four weeks ago during a robbery there,” Charlotte explained. “Mr. Wright and I have since attempted to track down the thief, only to come up short. Until I walked into a bookshop last week and found it in print.”
“I see,” Mr. Agerson said. “And how did you know it was your book. I mean surely—”
“The title hadn’t been changed and neither had my name.”
“Well, I’m not sure what to say really.” Mr. Agerson frowned. “Nothing goes to print without me signing off on it. Now, you claim this book of yours was printed by us with your name on it, but I don’t see how that’s possible when I’ve not come across the name Russell before.”
Charlotte fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Mr. Agerson,” she said, drawing on every bit of patience she had in her possession, “When I told you it carried my name, I didn’t mean my actual name.”
“Oh. Of course.” Mr. Agerson glanced at Blayne as if hoping he’d jump in and help. When he remained silent, Mr. Agerson gave his attention back to Charlotte and said, “It would be helpful if you could offer more details, like the book’s title, for instance, and the actual author name on it. Better yet, if you have a copy of the book in question so I can verify that it was indeed printed by us, perhaps I can be of greater assistance.”
Charlotte reached underneath the cloth covering of a small basket she’d brought along. Retrieving the book they’d been discussing, she handed it over to Mr. Agerson. “I hope I can count on your full discretion.”
A snort of disbelief left him. His eyes met hers while the book remained suspended between his fingers. “This is the latest Cunningham novel.”
“So it is,” Charlotte said.
Bewilderment and, to some extent outrage, filled Mr. Agerson’s features. “Miss Russell,” he said as if fighting the urge to toss her through the nearest window, “are you trying to tell me you’re Charles Cunningham?”
“That is exactly what I am telling you, sir. And someone – some charlatan – stole my manuscript from my publisher, brought it to you, and convinced you they were me. Whoever it is, is taking credit for something they didn’t write while pocketing funds that are rightfully mine.”
Mr. Agerson sighed. He considered Blayne once more. “Can you please explain to me why you believe this woman?”
Charlotte sat up straighter. “Mr. Agerson. Are you implying I—”
She clamped her mouth shut when he sent her a stern look. When she kept quiet, he shifted his attention back to Blayne. “Please proceed.”
“I was there when she found out her publisher, Carlisle & Co, had been robbed, as well as when she spotted her book at Lee & Jones.”
“The bookshop on Borough High Street?”
“Precisely.” Blayne made a small move with his hand as if meaning to reach for hers, only to let it fall back in his lap. “She was most distressed.”
“As she should be, if she is who she claims to be.”
“Mr. Agerson,” Charlotte exclaimed. “I would not lie about such a thing.”
“Perhaps not, Miss Russell, but since I have only just met you, I have no way in which to be certain of that. What I do know,” he added, raising a finger to halt her interruption, “is that I’ve a client – a man – who introduced himself as Mr. Charles Cunningham and presented me with a manuscript carrying that name. Now, having read it, I must confess I struggle to believe a woman could have penned such a book, but since I don’t wish to have any part in stealing from anyone, I shall do my best to resolve this matter.”
Charlotte blew out a deep breath of gratitude. “Thank you, Mr. Agerson. Please tell me how you intend to proceed.”
“Well, for starters, we need to figure out who’s telling the truth. Or at least I do. Therefore, I propose a meeting between all parties involved. If you have an address at which I can reach you, I will let you know when such a meeting has been arranged.”
“But…” Charlotte forced a smile even though it was a struggle. “Surely we can determine a time now and simply inform the other person of when to show up?”
“I’m afraid Mr. Cunningham—”
“The charlatan,” Charlotte supplied.
“Must be treated with respect until I know more,” Mr. Agerson finished with a pointed look at Charlotte. “The best I can do is send a letter requesting he join us for a meeting at his convenience.”
“Or,” Blayne said, speaking up for the first time in a while, “you could give us his address so we can pay him a visit ourselves.”
“Absolutely not,” Mr. Agerson said. “I would never hand out information about a client.”
“Not even a counterfeit one?”
“He is only a fraud according to you.” Mr. Agerson scowled. “Forgive me, but I have never met either of you before today. You’ve offered no substantial proof to back up your accusation, so the only reason I am even willing to investigate your claim is because I would hate to make a mistake – to not have acted with prudence when I had the chance to do so.
“But do not suppose for one minute that I trust either of you any more than I do the man who brought me a manuscript he claims he wrote. So if you want my help resolving this issue which, I will remind you, wasn’t an issue until you showed up, then we shall do so on my terms or not at all. Is that clear?”
Knowing this was the best she would get, Charlotte gave a curt nod. “Perfectly so, Mr. Agerson. And in terms of proof, I can bring along the notes I made in preparation for writing the book, when next we meet.” She ought to have done so today, but she’d been so distraught after last night’s altercation at The Black Swan, she’d not managed to use a clear head.
“An excellent idea,” Mr. Agerson said. “Now if you will please give me an address where you may be reached.”
Charlotte promptly gave her address which he wrote down. “Thank you for your time, sir. I am extremely glad you agreed to meet with me.”
“Of course, Miss Russell.” His features eased a fraction as he stood to say farewell. “I will be in touch with you soon.”
“Well,” Charlotte said once she and Blayne were back in the carriage with Daisy. “That didn’t exactly go as well as I’d hoped, but I suppose it could have gone a lot worse.”
“Ye handled yerself perfectly in there,” Blayne said. “I’m proud of ye, Miss Russell. Most women in yer position would have had a fit of hysterics.”
Heat filled Charlotte’s cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. MacNeil. Staying calm wasn’t easy, but Mr. Agerson had a fair point. He doesn’t have any reason to trust us over the man who gave himself out to be me.”
“True. But we have no reason to trust Mr. Agerson either.”
“Perhaps not, but we’ve little other choice.”
Blayne didn’t look pleased. “Doesnae mean I have to like it.”
Charlotte chuckled. There was something so charming about him when he was eager to help but didn’t know how. She loved him all the more for it – for caring even though he insisted he didn’t. They were heading toward the intersection on Oxford Street where he would be dropped off before she continued onward to her home. While their outing had gone well, it wasn’t enough. She wanted more – more time with him – another chance to find a way toward a shared future.