“Except Sundays.”
“I shall plan an outing for some evening this week,” he proposed, “but also, I would like to take you riding on Sunday.”
She would have to confess the truth.
“My lord, I am a middle-class shopkeeper’s daughter. Our family does not ride in the park because we do not keep mounts or have suitable riding clothing.”
Nevertheless, Charlotte thought she would look fetching in a green velvet habit.Could she obtain such a thing from a ready-made clothing store and on such short notice?
But she would also need a horse, and not one of the sturdy mares that pulled her father’s carriage around town.
Lord Jeffcoat was undeterred. “Have you ridden before?”
Should she confess to riding bareback at their country home?Once or twice, just for fun, she’d ridden astride along the River Blackwater since they didn’t have a side saddle. The fat mare had moved as slowly as treacle on a cold day.
“A few times, yes, but not in Town,” she admitted.
“Perfect. You will enjoy yourself, I promise. And any gown will do, I’m sure, as long as it has a full skirt to go over the pommel. I’ll give you a well-mannered mount and a comfortable saddle. We’ll ride early while the rest of London is still abed. Say yes, Miss Rare-Foure.”
She could think of no impediment, given that he was providing her with a horse.
“All right. My answer is yes.”
Then she remembered. “What about Delia?”
He frowned. “I cannot be responsible for your maid if she has never ridden. I will bring a footman.” After a pause, he added, “Maybe two.”
Charlotte fixed him with a smile, raising her eyebrows. “Are you positivetwochaperones will be enough?”
With an uncharacteristically broad grin that brought out his gorgeous dimple, he shook his head and gestured for her to lead the way downstairs.
“No, Miss Rare-Foure, I am not at all sure.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Edward, we need to find a carpenter to make us a staircase, cheaply and with as little fuss as possible. I suppose also as swiftly as possible, for we shall have to close the shop when the building begins.”
The boy’s eyes were like saucers.
“Don’t worry,” Charlotte said, making fruit shapes as quickly as Edward made the marzipan for her. “I won’t ask you to get to work with a saw and hammer.”
They were not behind, yet nor were they ahead. Amity was producing some chocolates at home, and Charlotte had dusted off her skills to make more in the shop. Edward, with the help of the candy thermometer and the sand timer, was making excellent toffee using Bea’s recipes.
“I’m just wondering how one goes about finding a reputable person. I have never needed anything built before. I know there is a carpenter’s guild because they demolished their meeting hall a couple years ago, and they won’t open their new one until next year.” She chuckled. “All those carpenters and it’s taking them over half a decade!”
“I live down that way, miss. Within spitting distance of the Aldgate Pump.”
She knew of it. It marked the start of the shadier East End of London, but Edward puffed up his chest slightly and added, “You know they moved the pump a little to the west.”
She supposed that somehow made his neighborhood seem less shabby. She was about to ask him about his living situation when he returned to the point of their discussion.
“The guild hall is already a beautiful building, miss, even though it’s not finished. Right on the London Wall Road. Just below Finsbury Circus.”
Charlotte shrugged. “I’ve hardly ever been to that area. Occasionally, I’ve gone to the docks with my father and my sisters, to source out sugar or cocoa beans or my almonds.”
“That’s all right, miss.” He wrinkled his nose. “It gets ugly anyway the farther east you go.”
And not very safe, either, from what Charlotte knew of the slums of Whitechapel. She hadn’t liked the wharf area either, but had felt safe with her father.
