“No thanks necessary. I was remiss in not helping you find a builder before.”
“I wouldn’t have listened,” she confessed, “not when I thought I could help Edward’s uncle.”
“I think you and your father should pursue legal action against the man. After all, he is not related to the Percys and as soon as we get them away from him, he won’t be any threat.”
“His lordship is right,” her father said. “You know I’m not a litigious man, but what’s right is right, and apparently, we have some furnishings to purchase.” He nodded to the ceiling. “That money he stole from you could come in handy. Besides, we have a lawyer practically in the family. You won’t charge us, will you, my lord?”
“Father!” she exclaimed but Charles looked unbothered.
“I would not charge you, Mr. Foure,” he insisted. “That is one of the advantages of being already in possession of a fortune. I cannot be bribed, nor can I be forced to take cases in which I do not believe, nor must I represent only those who can pay me.”
“Ideal!” her father said, rubbing his hands together. “Not that we can’t afford to pay, of course, but it would feel like being scammed twice.”
Charlotte shook her head at her father’s audacity. Before she could remind him that Charles’s fee would not be a scam at all but well-deserved payment, Armand Foure continued, “When we win — as I’m sure we would by the smart glint in your eye — then you can charge that Tufts person for your fees and any court ones, too. What cheek! Taking advantage of my girl.”
“I doubt Mr. Tufts will have the money for court fees,” Charlotte protested. “He’s probably spent what I gave him so I doubt he’ll even have that to give back. He’ll assuredly go to Newgate. And then his lordship will be stuck with court costs, too.”
Her father shrugged. “The price of being a barrister, I suppose, and falling for my perfect Charlotte.”
She gasped. He was truly beyond the pale.How could he say such a thing when nothing had been declared?Her cheeks felt as if they were burning. She and Charles had no understanding, no agreement.
With exasperation, she lifted her gaze to the viscount who stared back at her, and then, against all expectations, he smiled again.
“I suppose you are right,” he said to her father.
He was practically confessing his feelings about her — and to her father! They must talk privately, and soon. But first, to the other matter at hand.
“How did you fare at the ... what was it called? The Mendicity Society?”
“I spoke with Mr. Loch, the council’s secretary, and he had immediate good news. He knows of housing for those who are not destitute but have means of an income, like Mrs. Percy. He works with Miss Octavia Hill. You may have heard of her. She has done so much good work, and thanks to her association with Mr. Ruskin—”
“The art critic?” Charlotte wondered. For her, Mr. Ruskin was the nasty art critic who had spoken unkindly about Whistler’s Nocturne paintings at the Grosvenor Gallery show. Lionel’s dander had reached a high level during a lengthy discussion in art class.
“The same,” Charles said, “but he is also a man of philanthropy, producing the monthlyFors Clavigerafor the working class. Also known as ‘Letters to the Workmen and Laborers of Great Britain.’”
“Good stuff,” her father interjected. “I’ve read a few of those letters. Lots of interesting articles on the man’s social vision.”
“He gave Miss Hill one of the first properties she manages for the poor,” Charles continued. “She now has about eighteen places to put families and over three thousand tenants. She is particularly interested in the well-being of children.” He looked at Charlotte. “Our hope has been answered for the littlest Percys as there is a common area with care for the young ones.”
“That’s perfect! And there is a place for them?”
“Mr. Loch says there is a vacancy in Marylebone,” Charles informed her.
“That is quite a bit west of the Aldgate pump,” Charlotte said, thinking how pleased Edward would be. “You’ve done a wonderful thing.”
“One of Miss Hill’s associates will go to the East End today and collect Mrs. Percy and her little ones and whatever she wants to bring from that flat.”
Charlotte was once again astounded at the power of the nobility. All she could say was, “Thank you.”
“We did it together, I would say.” Charles’s blue eyes held her gaze for a moment, until her father coughed, nearly as loudly as the sawing going on in the background.
“I need to get the deliveries ready for Edward,” she said.
“Do you think he will show up?” Charles asked her.
“I do.”
After raising a friendly eyebrow, he declared he must be off to court. “I shall send you an invitation,” he told her, “if you’re amenable.”
