Chapter 6
Charlotte managed to get a few scant hours of sleep, but all too soon it was time to wake up, take three deep breaths, and jump out of bed to select her armor for the day.
What to wear when the world was falling apart?
Head-to-toe black suited her mood, but it seemed a bit much even for her.
Besides, everyone would think she was in mourning for her reputation, and that she couldn’t allow.
The previous night had been thick with shame, but it belonged to Major Dumbarton.
She wasn’t about to pick it up and carry it.
So Charlotte reached for a morning gown delivered only yesterday from Josephine’s, sewn from airy cotton in pale peach, with a slim skirt and row after row of creamy flounces at the hem, which made her look as if she were strolling on top of a cloud.
I Don’t Give a Damn in dress form—that felt right.
Charlotte dashed downstairs, intending to be first in the morning room, but her grandmother, the Dowager Countess Lady Alice, was already there and halfway through a pot of chocolate.
“There you are, darling!” Gran lifted piercing blue eyes to her granddaughter. “Levy tells me there was trouble last night?”
Charlotte kissed her grandmother on the cheek, called for a pot of coffee, and plopped into her chair, pouring the whole story onto the table.
“And you broke the rotter’s toe? Well done,” said Gran, when she’d heard everything. “His father, Colonel Dumbarton, was just the same in my day, and I wish I’d done him an injury. Still, it’s going to be a dreadful scandal.”
“I’ll simply have to brazen it out. The sticklers will amuse themselves by snubbing me, I’ll amuse myself by how magnificently I won’t care, and both sides will be perfectly happy. It’s Mother’s debt that concerns me.”
The dowager stared. “Darling, I think you have it backward. Your mother’s more than capable of—”
“She’s not capable of finding fifteen thousand pounds! I know how little you care for her, but—”
Gran tossed her napkin on the table. “I certainly do care for Margot. She’s my daughter-in-law and your mother, and, of course, I—”
“Then you see why we can’t abandon her.”
Lady Alice went quiet. She held herself straight as a pin, but her hair was snow-white and her skin thin as parchment, and Charlotte was conscious that her grandmother ought to be off pottering in her orangerie instead of having worries piled high on her breakfast plate.
Especially Lady Margot–shaped worries, which were notoriously intractable.
Was it Lady Margot’s awful marriage that had left her prone to moods, flinging from high to low, or had she always been that way?
Charlotte wasn’t sure. She’d been so little when her father died that she didn’t remember, and then there were the years spent veering back and forth between her mother’s household and Gran’s.
All she knew was that her mother was more difficult all the time, pushing everyone else away even as she clung harder to her daughter.
Still, Charlotte loved her mother, even if that love felt heavy sometimes.
Another debt too large to pay.
“Won’t you help me think of what to do, Gran? Mother could end up in debtors’ prison.”
Lady Alice snorted. “I doubt it. Your mother has more lives than a cat.”
“Please, Gran?”
Gran studied her granddaughter and her face softened. “All right, my minx. So long as you promise to spare a minute to think of your own troubles?”
“Of course.”
“I suppose you want to find a way to pay Margot’s debt?”
“Yes, but it’s going to be tricky. My dowry would cover it easily, if the trustees would allow me to crack into—”
Lady Alice snorted again. “Not a chance.”
Charlotte plonked her elbows on the table and settled her chin morosely in her hands. “I wish I could write Julian for the funds, but it would take months for a letter to reach him, let alone to get a reply.”
Black thoughts pressed into Charlotte’s head.
It seemed to her that the real scandal was how little control she had over her own funds.
She and Gran were surrounded by riches, yet they couldn’t access more than their allowances without the express permission of a man.
Even most of the jewelry Charlotte wore belonged to the estate. Still, there must be some way to—
“Wait, Gran! The pearls, my diamond brooch, and the amethyst parure—they were all gifts. They belong to me directly. What do you think, would they fetch a thousand pounds?”
Gran considered. “Three thousand pounds, when you add in my jewelry. My emerald drops alone are worth five hundred.”
Charlotte’s eyes pricked. “Not your jewels, Gran. I don’t want you to—”
“As if I’d leave you alone in this. You may have my jewels, and I’ll also tell the trustees I need more funds for expanding my orangerie.
I suspect I can wheedle as much as two thousand pounds from them before they kick up a fuss.
And I’ll be the one to fuss if we can’t draw at least a thousand from your dowry.
That’s six thousand pounds we’ve found together. ”
Charlotte had to blink hard not to cry. “It’s a promising start.”
Levy hustled into the room. “The newspapers, your ladyship. I brought them as soon as they arrived.”
The dowager steadied herself with a deep breath and handed one paper to Charlotte, keeping the other for herself. “Shall we see just how big a scandal we’re facing?”
But Charlotte was already staring down at the newsprint in her hands. “Oh dear. The Morning Herald’s calling me Scarlet Charlotte. I suppose it’s quite clever, actually. Does the Times say anything?”
“Not a word!” Gran sounded rather strangled.
Levy, standing behind her, peered closer. “It’s right there, your ladyship. Do you not see the headline? Charlotte the Har—”
“Never mind, Levy!” squawked the dowager.
Charlotte offered up a sickly smile.