“And who, may I ask, is he?” Charlotte asked.
“One of our sales assistants. If he can verify your claim then I’m sure the matter can be reviewed by someone higher up. Eventually.”
Charlotte gave the clerk a tight smile. “Mr. Agerson is the man with whom I wish to speak. He is the owner of this business, is he not?”
“Indeed he is, but—”
“In that case, I do believe he’s the only one who can help me.”
“I see. Well, um…I’m afraid Mr. Agerson has a full schedule today. Perhaps next week.” The clerk began flipping through what looked to be an appointment book.
Charlotte frowned, her aggravation so clear it looked like smoke might start rising from the top of her head unless someone did something to calm her. Blayne stepped a bit closer to her and placed the palm of his hand against her back. She tried to shake him off and eventually gave him a glare when that didn’t work.
“Surely you must be able to understand how distressing it has been for this lady to enter a bookshop and find her stolen manuscript printed, bound, and available for sale.” As he’d done while keeping company with Charlotte’s parents and Mr. Cooper, Blayne abandoned his brogue in favor of the upper crust English he’d learned to speak as a boy, hoping it would earn them a bit more respect. “Aside from the obvious injustice, there’s also the lack of revenue to consider. Money she should be receiving is going to a thief instead. And your company is playing a part in that. Now, you can either show us through to Mr. Agerson right this second so we can attempt to resolve the issue, or I can ask my solicitor to call on you later today with some papers demanding we meet in court. Now, what’s it going to be?”
The clerk blanched. “I. Um. Well.” He gulped. “What did you say your names were?”
“We didn’t.” Blayne stared back at him while doing his damnedest to affect aristocratic arrogance. “I am Mr.…Wright and this is Miss Russell.”
“Very good.” The clerk nodded and went to knock on a door at the far end of the room.
As soon as he disappeared inside the office, Charlotte rounded on him. “I didn’t need for you to step in.”
“Really?” He’d thought she would thank him. Instead she seemed keen on confrontation. “And how were ye planning to gain that man’s cooperation if I’d said nothing?”
“I would have figured it out eventually,” she told him with a stubborn tilt to her chin.
“He was two seconds away from turning us out, Charlotte, and ye ken it.” She said nothing to this. Arms crossed, she just stood there, her eyes fixed on a point in the distance. Blayne sighed. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”
“And you did,” she mumbled after a long stretch of silence. “My apologies. I should have thanked you, I just… I cannot keep relying on you for help when…”
When you’ll soon be gone from my life.
Her unspoken words seemed to shake the floor beneath his feet.
Before he could answer, she added, “It’s one thing for you to escort me and make sure I’m safe, but I have to be able to fight my own battles.”
“I just wanted to make things easier for ye.”
“And so you have, it would seem. I can’t say I’m not appreciative since that would be a lie, but it makes me feel weak and dependent, which is something I cannot afford if I’m to survive this.”
“Fair enough. I’ll try not to interfere further.” He couldn’t begrudge her for feeling as she did, and he certainly harbored no resentment toward her because of it. If there was any ill will at all, it was directed at himself and the terrible choice he’d once made. Because it now meant he couldn’t have her.
Doing his best to forget about that for the moment, he quietly told her, “Ye’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Charlotte, and ye can do anything ye set yer mind to.”
Her gaze met his with unguarded appreciation. “I wish—”
“Miss Russell,” the clerk said, cutting her off, “and Mr. Wright. This way, if you please.”
Charlotte asked Daisy to stay behind and wait while she and Blayne followed the clerk. In a way Blayne was glad she’d been interrupted since he wasn’t sure he could take more emotional talk at the moment. He certainly had no desire to hear her tell him about her wishes when he wasn’t in a position to make them come true.
“Good morning,” Mr. Agerson said when they were shown into his office. A slim man of medium height and roughly fifty years of age, he wore an exhausted look suggestive of the sort of man who lived for his work. “Mr. Mulberry tells me you’ve come here regarding the theft of a manuscript we’ve supposedly printed. Please, do have a seat.”
Charlotte lowered herself to a chair upholstered in dark brown leather, after which Blayne and Mr. Agerson sat as well.
“My manuscript was stolen from Carlisle & Co. about four weeks ago during a robbery there,” Charlotte explained. “Mr. Wright and I have since attempted to track down the thief, only to come up short. Until I walked into a bookshop last week and found it in print.”
“I see,” Mr. Agerson said. “And how did you know it was your book. I mean surely—”
