“You’re talking about Whistler suing Ruskin,” Charles clarified. He didn’t particularly care about the artist or the critic, but he had attended some phases of the popular trial because it was a singular case. And Ruskin’s words about the artist had been oft-repeated so they all knew his insult by heart, “I have never expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hundred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public’s face.”
Moreover, Charles had noted how despite a poor defense, Whistler won in principle but was awarded merely a farthing. Surely, there was a lesson there about the cost of being right, especially with court costs. Last he’d heard, the painter, now impoverished, had gone to Venice.
“I’m no painter,” he grumbled, thinking of that transient lifestyle.
“Neither was Whistler,” his father said, then laughed, “not if you went by hisNocturne in Black and Gold. That was Ruskin’s point precisely.”
Charles sighed. If Charlotte was looking for a flashy man given to openly passionate actions or words, like one of the popular artists — Rosetti with his wombats and exotic birds, not to mention his exotic models — then Charles did not stand a chance of winning her over. He doubted he would ever do anything flamboyant. He might go out tomorrow wearing hissecond-favorite hat since his favorite was ruined and couldn’t be replaced at such short notice, but that was hardly like Whistler painting the Thames during a winter freeze.
Perhaps he could woo her with flowers.
Out of the blue, his father said, “Your mother would have liked those blasted pre-Raphaelites or the Aestheticism everyone is talking about. Bunch of profligate artists!”
Startled at hearing his father make mention of the former countess whom he’d divorced after she’d left for the Continent, Charles was about to offer him a glass of brandy when he turned and walked away.
“Bed,” he heard his father mutter. “To sleep, perchance to dream.”
Poor man!That was what came of marrying an unsuitable woman whom one couldn’t satisfy or please.
And his mother had been given the privilege and honor of being lifted from the level of a viscount’s second son’s daughter by her sheer beauty alone. Anyone would think becoming a countess would have been a reward unto itself that she wouldn’t possibly throw away with her careless infidelity.
Yet she had.
For Charlotte, the elevation in status would be even greater, but he’d learned that could mean nothing. It didn’t gain a woman’s loyalty, fidelity, or love.
On the other hand, it bode well that despite his being a viscount, and some day in the distant future an earl, neither had not been enough to sway her to accepting his proposal.Hell’s bells, she hadn’t even let him finish it!
She was, thus, no opportunist. She was a middle-class woman of business with whom he was more smitten every time he was with her.
Chapter Twenty
It was a disaster! Without even a day’s notice or a friendly face stopping by to discuss the matter, one of the hotels and one of the restaurants had abruptly canceled their standing orders. The messages came by morning post.
Charlotte reread the curt letters and wanted to weep. And at the worst possible time, too when they weren’t getting any revenue from shop sales. Moreover, by the look of the mess, Mr. Tufts was going to take longer than three days to build even a rudimentary staircase. There was still nothing but an ugly gaping hole in the ceiling of the confectionery.
At that moment, Mr. Tufts was in the shop, hammering at boards, which he called treads, and attaching them to more boards, which he called risers. But the work was progressing terribly slowly and involved a lot of sawing and swearing on the builder’s part.
Edward was already making the deliveries for the day, and now, since the orders had been halted, she wasn’t even sure the recipients would pay for them when they were billed.
A tapping on the window drew Charlotte’s attention. A woman in a pretty yellow bonnet was standing there.
In a state of shock from receipt of the cancellation letters, Charlotte muttered, “Can’t you read?” The notice of closure was right beside the woman’s face. Nevertheless, she went to the door, unlocked it, and stuck her head out.
“I’m sorry, but we’re closed,” Charlotte began and gestured to her handwritten sign.
“Yes, I can see that. Also, I’d heard from another shopkeeper that you are going out of business.”
Another shock.Who was saying such a thing?
Before Charlotte could ask, the woman continued, “I just wondered what kind of establishment is going in here. I can see some renovations are happening. I’d be pleased to spread the word and tell my friends.”
A gossip!Charlotte reminded herself it wasn’t this woman’s fault that people loved to hear the latest whether about a store or a nobleman, for that matter.
“Rare Confectionery is not going out of business, I assure you, and you may tell that to anyone who wishes to know. We are expanding. There will be a perfectly delightful café upstairs.” She would make another sign saying such, but since the café wouldn’t be open by the time the shop reopened, she hadn’t wanted to confuse the issues.
“Our regular shop will be open just as soon as the staircase is finished.”
“Oh.”
