“She was, but her years on the stage were decades ago. We give the older generation a pass in meeting our standards. It is the way of the world. I’m content playing your maid.”
“But if I marry him, he will expect to meet you.”
“Not if,when. And we’ll meet when the time is right.”
There was no arguing with her. Secretly, Char wanted to push a meeting between them. She was tired of keeping track of the lies she’d told. She wished to rid herself of all of them. Then her feeble brain would not hurt so much.
Furthermore, if Baynton could not accept her aunt, Char wanted nothing to do with him... but then the rent came due on the twentieth of the month.
And there was no money. It had been quickly spent on ribbons and lace.
The landlord called upon them. This was a first. He was also very polite. Another first.
“I understand how difficult it must be for two women alone,” he said. “I do not wish to pressure you—”
“We know, Mr.Harris,” Sarah interjected. “We just request a bit more time.”
“You may have all the time you wish, Mrs.Pettijohn,” he answered, his hat in his hand. “I just hope you will mention me to His Grace, the Duke of Baynton. He actually owns a small warehouse close to Canary Wharf that I’ve had my eye on. If Lady Charlene could put in a good word for me, I would greatly appreciate it.”
Her eyes wide in shock, Sarah looked at Char and nodded. “You could, couldn’t you?”
“I—” Char started, uncertain, and then nodded. What else was there to do?
“Very good,” Mr.Harris said, placing his hat back on his head. “Very good, indeed. We will just consider the rent you owe as a loan to be paid when you have the ability.”
Which meant, once Char married the duke.
“I’ll only charge threepercent interest,” he concluded. “Good day to you.”
Sarah closed the door. “I’ll wager the property he wants will make him more than our measly threepercent interest.” She leaned back against the door. “Hopefully, Davies’s money will arrive soon. Then again, he is always late when he pays.” She looked to Char. “You are very quiet.”
Char pressed her lips together before asking the question on her mind. “What if I don’t marry the duke?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if he doesn’t ask?”
Sarah laughed. “Oh, he will ask, and rather soon, I believe. When he calls, he looks at you as if he is ready to throw himself at your feet. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked yet.”
“Perhaps he is waiting for my aunt?” Char suggested.
Sarah did not like that idea, although she did not comment. She went into the front room and sat at her desk. The manuscript pages of a play Colman wanted her to rewrite were spread upon it.
Char followed her. She sat in a chair by the desk.
Her aunt sorted the papers, trying to bring her attention to where it was before Mr.Harris’s call. For a moment, she acted as if she was going to ignore Char, but then she looked up. “I don’t want you to feel as if you are selling yourself in this marriage.”
“But I am,” Char said, her mind not only on rents and livings for people she loved, but also on Leo and the Seven. They watched her. Every once in a while, she’d catch a glimpse of Danny and the young boys. She sensed they were there all the time and letting her see them occasionally so that she would not forget the debt she owed them.
“Do you not like him?” Sarah asked.
“Of course I like Baynton. He is kind and proper—”
“And very handsome.”
“Yes.”
“Then what is it?”
