“I am,” she said. “Very much so.” And she watched him leave. She had Perrault’s godmother on her side after all, in the guise of a viscount.
“I’m leaving, too, my girl,” her father said. “You have everything under control as usual. I’ll be back to review the progress at any time, though,” he said loudly enough for the workers to hear, as if that dire threat would keep them in line.
Rolling her eyes, Charlotte went into the back room to get started. Barely ten minutes later, Edward arrived ready for work.
“We didn’t tell Mr. Tufts anything about your visit, miss,” he said, lingering between the two rooms, glancing over his shoulder at the workers.
“Probably wise,” she agreed. “I think you and your family will be moved soon. Are you ready to make deliveries?”
“Yes,” he took another step into the back room as if unsure of his welcome. “And I will apologize, too, miss.”
“Good. Then let’s get to work.”
“A DINNER PARTY!” CHARLOTTE exclaimed aloud to Delia when the thick piece of stationery arrived with Lord Jeffcoat’s seal. “With dancing.”
“Just like last Season,” her maid reminisced.
Charlotte thought it was nothing at all like the previous year. Although she’d enjoyed attending balls with Beatrice and sometimes with then already-married Amity, Charlotte hadn’t cared a whit for any of the men. While thrilled at the venues and the gowns, she’d felt unmoved by her dining and dancing partners. This time, she would be escorted by the man she loved. And the thought of being in his arms on the dance floor caused a delightful fluttering inside her.
Excited anticipation mingled with tension, thinking of how she might dazzle or fail on the arm of the Viscount Jeffcoat. It was fun to be nervous over a man.
Before she knew it, his arrival was mere minutes away. Dressed in a saffron-colored silk gown with a shimmery, silver-beaded neckline and silver lace at the sleeve hems, Charlotte felt confident in her appearance. Matching dancing slippers and a frivolous, absolutely adorable turquoise feather tucked into her up-swept hair completed her look.
“Mr. Finley’s just called up the stairs to say your viscount is here, miss,” Delia said.
“Yes, I heard him,” Charlotte said, wanting to laugh. Her father’s man servant was hardly ever in the right place, not like a real butler, and it was something of a miracle when he was actually able to announce a visitor. The fact that he’d yelled it up through the stairwell instead of coming upstairs with dignity only made her fonder of the man.
A sudden thought occurred to her.
“Delia, are you interested in Mr. Finley?”
“Interested,” her maid asked, tugging on her own simple, brushed cotton cream-colored gown. “How do you mean, my girl?”
Charlotte suddenly wished she hadn’t pried, but Delia caught on to her meaning a moment later.
“Don’t be daft,” she said irreverently. “He’s in love with Lydia.”
“Is he?” Charlotte wondered how such things could happen under her nose without her awareness. Their butler and their cook? “And does Lydia love Mr. Finley back?”
“Yes, miss.”
“And what about you?” Charlotte asked, seeing how Delia didn’t seem offended. “Do you ... like anyone?”
“I enjoyed chatting with Lord Jeffcoat’s driver the few times I’ve met him. Nice chap. Has good accommodations at his lordship’s home and a pension coming when he sees fit to retire.”
“Would you leave us if you married?” Charlotte wondered, trying to imagine Baker Street without Delia.
“Well, ifyoumarried, too, miss, each of us to the right person, then we might stay together, if you see what I mean.”
Goodness!Delia was planning on marrying Charles’s coachman and moving with her. Rather presumptuous but also ... sweet!
Descending the stairs and seeing Charles awaiting her at the bottom, the flutter in Charlotte’s stomach seemed to become a tumult of birds’ wings.What on earth was wrong with her?
His expression, the warm admiration in his eyes, did nothing to quell her nerves. She wanted to please him, to be the woman he deserved for a wife. As long as he had fallen in love with her, she could see no impediment to a future together.
“You look astonishingly beautiful,” he said when her feet touched the foyer floor. He took her gloved hand in his, bent over it, and brushed his lips across the back.
She almost giggled at the wicked shiver that tickled down her spine since she could feel the heat of his breath through the thin silk. Giggling wasnotthe behavior of a future viscountess so she pressed her lips together and looked at his lovely dark hair until he straightened and their gazes locked.
