“Good night,” she said before stepping indoors to keep from doing anything stupid.
“Good night,” he said and departed to his waiting carriage.
She hadn’t expected such a turn of events. And then it dawned on her. She hadn’t thought of Lionel, not once, when she was kissing the viscount.What a blessing!
Shrugging out of her mantle and leaving it in the front hall, she dashed up the stairs, got halfway up, and ran back down to lock the front door, rolling her eyes at her own forgetfulness. Then she climbed the stairs more slowly, still clutching the two volumes with Charles’s name scrawled on their bookplates. Such an intimate thing, to have his own handwriting in her hands.
Their few servants had all gone to bed, which was a relief as she feared Delia might want to help her get ready for bed. Normally, that was an extraordinary circumstance, done only if she were trussed up in a fussy ballgown. However, their long-time maid would think nothing of offering to brush her hair in order to wheedle tidbits of gossip out of her. And with neither of her sisters around in whom she could confide, Charlotte feared she would tell Delia something indecorous or embarrassing.
In another minute, Charlotte had gained the solitude of her bedroom, where the fire had been lit earlier and the lamps turned on.
Glancing at herself in the mirror as she removed the pins from her hair, Charlotte thought her face plainly revealed that she’d had a long and satisfying kiss. At least to her eyes, it was obvious by her happy expression and her lips being a little redder than usual. She wouldn’t want Delia to see the same.
And soon, maybe even tomorrow, she was going to receive another invitation for an evening with the viscount.
Picking up her boar-bristle brush, she started smoothing her hair, reminding herself the viscount wasn’t supposed to be the thought uppermost in her mind. After all, the very next day, she was expanding Rare Confectionery for the first time in twenty years!
Everything would be perfect!
Chapter Nine
Why did it seem nothing was going smoothly?From the moment Charlotte entered the shop, feeling a little tired from her exciting evening and having read Ainsworth’sThe Star Chamberfor half the night, little things began to go wrong.
Edward, who was always punctual if not early, was late. Since Bea was back to coming in at noon, Charlotte had to quickly clean and then start packaging up the delivery orders. As she was turning the sign to open, Edward appeared looking as grim as the rain clouds that had blown in, but refusing to say anything more than an abject apology. She had no right to pry.
“If you need my help with anything, please know you can always ask,” she assured him.
With a grown-up nod of his head, he went in the back to don his apron and grab trays to restock the display case, which he was still doing when the first customer entered.
Charlotte thought she’d had plenty of small change to start the day, but didn’t have the right amount for the first customer, and ended up having to give some of the confectionery away.
“I must run to the bank,” she told the boy, “or we shall go broke. I should have done it yesterday or first thing. My head is not screwed on correctly today.”
“What about the customers?” he asked, eyes wide.
For a second, she considered turning the sign to “Closed.” Then thought better of it. “If you know them, then tell them we’re putting their purchases on their account for today. Just make note of their name and the cost. All right? Unless they have the exact amount, and then ... well, you know, you can handle it. I shall be back as soon as possible.”
She ripped off her apron and ran out the door before recalling the landlord.
“Edward,” she said, re-entering on a chilly gust of air that was blowing the tree branches and sending raindrops skittering across the sky in a horizontal direction. “If Mr. Richardson shows up, a man with a bushy moustache, please keep him here and tell him I’ll be back as soon as I can. It’s important. Don’t let him leave.”
“Yes, miss.”
The boy looked terrified, which spurred Charlotte to run without any decorum down the street through the downpour. Luckily, she didn’t have to go any farther than Lothbury Street, straight down the end of Old Bond Street. If it had been any other time, she would have continued on to Amity’s as she was a mere few streets away from St. James’s Place.
There was no line at one clerk’s window at The Imperial Bank, and within five minutes, Charlotte was lifting her skirts with one hand so she could sprint down the street back to the shop, clutching her purse and the leather satchel in which they kept money for transport. In her panic, she’d neglected her cloak with its protective hood and her umbrella.
Pushing open the door, feeling like a drowned rat, she didn’t see an impatient landlord waiting for her as she’d feared, but four customers and one frazzled boy.
“Excuse me, please,” she said, pushing through them so she could get to the break between the counters. “I’m happy to help whoever is next.”
For the next few minutes, she served the customers, dismissing Edward to the back. And then, even though another came into the shop, Charlotte had to ask her to wait so she could get Edward out the door with the deliveries. It took her a few minutes to load him up with the proper sweets before he hurried out with bags bursting.
“Go easy,” Charlotte told him. “Don’t drop anything.” Closing the door behind her, she took in the smartly dressed customer. “My apologies for keeping you waiting,” she said to the woman who’d been circling the shop, picking up tins, looking at everything in both display cases.
“Do you normally have more help?” she asked.
It was an annoying question. Charlotte prided herself on how well she ran the front of the shop, usually with everything under tight control. At the same time, she always felt relaxed and able to brush off little problems, even able to make her marzipan at the same time. In any case, she didn’t think the brief delay in getting the deliveries out the door warranted her explaining about a pregnant sister or another one who didn’t like to come in before noon, or her mother being away. It was none of this woman’s business.
