“Why sully your hands with trade? You are a lady. You would have no social standing left if it were discovered that you were the co-owner of a coffeehouse known for attracting eccentrics, including those of the criminal variety.” Sophia moved closer, and the light from one of the narrow windows washed over her light brown skin. She looked striking in the sunbeam, and it was not hard to imagine her commanding a ship like her mother.
“Perhaps in certain circles I would lose my status. In some though, such notoriety would bring me renown.” Charlotte spoke bluntly, even as her chest constricted with the enormity of her proposal. If she were found out, the flawless reputation she had worked so hard to create would unravel, yet perhaps that unspooling would also loosen the bonds immobilizing her.
“So this is a scheme to make yourself appear daring?” Hannah’s green eyes sparked with rage. “Some sort of lark? A wager?”
“No.” Charlotte spoke with a coolness that belied the fierytempest inside her. “It is a bid for independence. My inheritance is not enough to sustain me over the years without another source.”
Hannah snorted, sending tendrils of red hair flying against her mobcap. “How much do you think we earn? It is hardly ample enough to keep the likes of you satisfied. Marry an indulgent man instead.”
“My parents insist upon selecting my bridegroom. I assure you, indulgent is not a quality they seek out. Rather the opposite,” Charlotte said as she battled back the clawing dread that had chased her through the streets of London.
“I find it hard to dredge up sympathy for a noble,” Hannah said drily.
“Your mother was one originally,” Charlotte pointed out, careful not to allow a single ripple of frustration or panic to disrupt her calm tone. After all, she needed the Wick cousins much more than they required her. She could not run a coffeehouse herself. “I do not need to live in high style.”Just not in a gilt prison.
And Charlotte wanted more than financial security. If she was to unearth evidence of Hawley’s perfidy and stop the wedding, this was her best chance, really her only chance, to do it.
“Silly ol’ bird.” The dreadful squawk seemed to bounce off the spartan interior as a lime-green parrot flapped into the room from a doorway Charlotte had overlooked. The palpable disdain in the creature’s voice was matched by the pure malevolence in its single eye. Staring at her the entire time, it landed on Hannah’s shoulder.
Normally, Charlotte would have laughed at the absurdity of a glorified bag of feathers calling her foolish. She didn’t, due to a couple reasons.
For one, the avian creature had twisted its head so dramatically that its beak now pointed toward the timbered ceiling. It made for a rather intimidating stance, especially coupled with the dastardlygleam in its amber iris. The winged beast seemed more than capable of not only taking offense but enacting revenge.
Even more salient, however, Charlotte half feared that she agreed with the parrot’s harsh assessment. Her plan to save herself and learn Viscount Hawley’s secrets was flimsy at best… dangerous at worst. It was a half-formed scheme built on unrealized dreams and desperation.
“I believe our pet Pan said it very aptly.” Sophia Wick clasped her elegant fingers together. “Any business started as a ploy to escape an aristocratic marriage is doomed to fail.”
Even more doubts began to press upon Charlotte’s precious bubble of hope, threatening to puncture it entirely this time. But she earnestly clung to her optimism and to her composure. Her plan would work. It had to.
“My cousin is right. I see no reason to assume the risks that you are presenting.” Hannah reached up to scratch Pan on his feathery chest. The bird looked exceedingly smug.
“I promise that enlarging the coffeehouse will benefit all of us.” Charlotte stepped forward toward the Wick cousins, trying to make them understand that she did not view this as a game or even as only an escape. Yes, her ideas partially sprang from her daydreams with her friends, but that made her proposal no less earnest. “This is not mere whimsy. I’m not just offering to help pay the lease. I have an idea to expand your clientage.”
“Truly?” Sophia lifted one dark eyebrow, her voice dripping with skepticism. “What would that entail, precisely?”
Charlotte drew in a breath, and her chest pressed against her stays. The rigid structure gave her strength. “I have many connections to literary salons. My mother runs one, and I assist with her hosting duties.”
Hannah snorted. “I hardly see how that genteel activity has anything to do with our coffeehouse. From what I’ve heard, yourmother has ruthlessly stamped out any whiff of revolutionary thought that our grandmother and great-aunt previously cultivated. We cater to people who eschew social strictures and whose ideas are considered uncomfortably radical, not fashionably ‘enlightened.’ It is rough-and-tumble, not silks and divans.”
“Would women daring enough to attend a secret mixed-company coffeehouse be unconventional enough for you?”
“What exactly are you envisioning?” Sophia asked. When she stepped toward Charlotte, Pan flew from Hannah’s shoulder to Sophia’s. As Sophia continued to advance, the avian nightmare turned his head in intimidating circles.
Ignoring the bird’s gyrating eye, Charlotte focused entirely on Sophia. “A new type of coffeehouse—one that people will be clamoring to obtain access to.”
“Are you suggesting a private venue where we host tête-à-têtes for you and your high society friends who want the facade of adventure?” Hannah scoffed.
“No. There is clandestine, and there isclandestine,” Charlotte said. “It is not as if the Black Sheep does not already deal in confidences.”
It did not surprise her when the Wick cousins once again turned toward each other. They were clearly close. Charlotte understood. She and Alexander communicated in the same wordless way. Pan, however, must not have appreciated the tension. With a flutter of lime wings, he circled the room.
“What secrets are you referring to?” Sophia asked finally, her melodic voice hardening into a decided edge.
Just then, Pan decided to settle. On Charlotte’s head.
Only years of social training to be calm prevented her from screaming. Luckily, the misbegotten bird did not dig his claws into her scalp… much. But he did bend his body over Charlotte’s face to stick his eye directly in her field of vision.
“The Black Sheep’s code of conduct states that no debates shall touch upon religion and politics, but according to my brother, that is most definitely not the case.” Charlotte tried to peer around the parrot. It proved impossible as the creature bobbed its head in any direction that she turned.
