She blinked, cast a sidelong glance at Charlotte, then fixed him with a wounded look. “If that excuse were remotely true, mightn’t you think it an inopportune moment to take on the responsibility of a bride? If you don’t wish to help your parents, just say so. When the lease runs up, we’ll go back to the country and…and manage. We always do.”

Anthony’s stomach clenched. How he wished her suspicions were true. He had never been able to turn them down when they needed a bit of blunt. But this time, he would have to.

“Charlotte and I had a somewhat unplanned elopement,” he said carefully. “I found out how dire my situation was the following morning. You are right. It was the most inopportune of moments. But right now, every penny I can find must go toward keeping me out of prison. Or at least reducing the length of my stay.”

“It’s true?” His mother’s wide eyes focused not on him, but on Charlotte. “They can take Anthony away?”

“They will take him away,” Charlotte corrected grimly as she slid her hand into his. “Unless we can raise enough money to stop it.”

“I got myself into this scrape,” he started to remind her.

Charlotte held up her other palm. “I’m your wife. Now it’s our debt.”

He winced. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. He was the man. The provider. The law bestowed ownership of all property on the husband because the husband was meant to use his resources to protect his wife. Not leave her abandoned and penniless.

How on earth would he be able to take care of his family from prison? The reason his parents loved him so much was because he indulged them at every opportunity. Once he was gone, they would lose their home. They might even end up in debtors’ prison alongside him.

“We can’t let that happen.” His mother wrung her thin hands, eyes wide with desperation. “We sold everything of value last year, when we were evicted from the old townhouse. Your father hasn’t got a single book left in his library. The most expensive thing in this house is the one gown I intend to wear all Season. I commissioned a host of interchangeable trims and lace so that no one will realize I’m always wearing the same dress.”

Anthony blinked. He hadn’t realized his mother had ever taken any cost-saving measures, much less that she actively thought ahead to try and minimize debt. Her complaints about his father’s visits to the club were now colored in a different light. Perhaps it was not the drinking she objected to after all, but rather the associated account they could never manage to settle. And the extra burden on her son.

“I shall have to sack Scroggs.” She took a shaky breath. “The poor girl. And your father will simply have to do without the club. He cannot argue. ’Twas past time. How we shall entertain ourselves in an empty house with nary a book to read, I have no idea. I suppose I shall be too busy scrubbing pots to have time for frivolity anyway. The silver!” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “What if we sell the silver? And your grandmother’s porcelain dining ware? How much do you owe the creditors?”

Her questions robbed Anthony of the ability to speak. All the porcelain in Mayfair wouldn’t repay his debt, but the important thing, the inconceivable thing, was that his mother would sacrifice it. His heart wrenched. That dining ware was by far her most valued possession. Something she protected so fiercely, no maid in London was allowed to touch it. She treated each piece like riches on display at a palace.

And she would sell it all without hesitation.

For Anthony.

“I have family jewelry of my own,” Charlotte said. “Perhaps you’d care to accompany me on a visit to a pawnbroker? I cannot think of a worthier cause.”

“We’ll all go,” his mother said with determination. “His father might still have something valuable we could sell. I cannot think of a bigger emergency than this.” She patted Anthony’s arm despite the panic shimmering in her eyes. “Don’t worry, son. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Anthony swallowed the truth. Even if he couldn’t save himself, he could not allow the same fate to destroy his parents.

Charlotte squeezed his hand, her blue gaze intense. “I can tell by your face that you think our efforts will not be enough. Even if you’re right, even if we sell the clothes off our backs and they still take you away, I will get you out.”

Anthony’s heart flipped. She was more treasure than he deserved. He pulled her close. She clutched him as if she would never let him go. His throat stung. Although they hadn’t exchanged traditional vows, she was on his side, for richer or for poorer. He glanced over at his mother. His parents were, too.

This was what having family truly meant.

Chapter 18

When morning came, Charlotte awoke to find Anthony kneeling before his open trunk in search of some item within.

They hadn’t unpacked their traveling bags the night before, in part because they had been too exhausted to do so…but primarily because the only furniture in the bedchamber was the bed.

At some point when times had been tough, Anthony’s parents had apparently sold the wardrobe, the vanity, even the shaving mirror. Charlotte pushed herself up on her elbows and gazed about the empty chamber in disbelief. A small pitcher of water was the sole nod to luxury.

She had been so jealous of these people. Not the Fairfaxes specifically, but people like them. People less than the Fairfaxes. Hadn’t she dreamed of being a cobbler’s daughter, a baker’s daughter, anything but what she was? If this was how poor fashionable people lived, what must home life have been like for the poor but respectable children who had spit at her in the streets?

Guilt clawed at her. The weight of her mother prostituting herself had been all Charlotte could feel, all she could see. She’d been too hurt, too ashamed to consider that perhaps the reason her mother didn’t quit her profession was because she didn’t want Charlotte to grow up without food or clothing.

She couldn’t imagine the childhood Anthony must have had. Rich one moment, in abject poverty the next. It was clear that his mother loved him. It was equally clear that no one in his family could be trusted with so much as a farthing.

No wonder he was in the predicament he was in. He was too fashionable to pursue a trade, too poor to resist the allure of making a fortune with a simple wager. Caught in the middle.

She took another look at the bare walls, the carpet-less floor. Even if Anthony had wished to pursue a trade or business management, with what capital would he have made his investment? She ran her fingers over the threadbare blanket. All possible paths had led him straight to the gaming tables…and to ruin.

“You’re awake.” Anthony pushed up from the floor with a smile. “How did you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you,” she lied. The tester and curtains were missing from the bed, and the draft from the window had given her gooseflesh every time the wind blew. She sat up. “You’re already dressed. Are you parents early risers, too?”

“Not unless midday is early.” His lips curved in self-deprecation. “I used to be even worse. All night in the vice parlors, all morning making up for lost sleep.” His amusement faded. “I suppose I’ll have plenty of time to sleep in Marshalsea.”

“No,” she said sharply. “The Duke of Courteland’s will remains to be heard. Perhaps my sire made me sole heiress of all his riches.”

Anthony’s face twisted, but he made no comment.

He didn’t have to. Charlotte’s shoulders slumped. They both knew how improbable that was.

After she, too, was washed and dressed, she upended the contents of their purses atop the bed. It had become something of an obsession to count their money every night. And every morning. But no matter how many times she sorted the bills and coins into small, short piles, they never added up to enough. What they needed was a miracle.

A knock sounded on the front door.

Anthony frowned. “It’s far too early for a social call.”

He headed to the door all the same. Scroggs had been given her pay last night, along with several glowing letters of recommendation. She had made her escape posthaste. There was no one left to answer the door.

Charlotte started to follow, then hung back just out of sight. This was London. She could not let her comfort at being with Anthony make her forget the harsh reality of the world outside. The last thing she wished was to be treated with contempt right here in his parents’ house.

As mortifying as such an experience would be, it would be even more humiliating to know that she’d harmed his parents’ reputation by her mere presence.

Anthony opened the creaky door. “Yes?”

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” gushed a female voice, “but I am in a dreadful way. One of the ladies in my book club told me I simply must speak to Mrs. Fairfax, who will put everything to rights. Have I called at the correct address?”

“I’m afraid my mother is still abed. If you’d like to leave a calling card—”

“Your mother?” sputtered the female voice. “Oh, no. I’m looking for a young Mrs. Fairfax. Not a day over twenty, I’m told. Pretty face, yellow hair...”

Charlotte’s heart thumped. The woman was looking for her?

She stepped around the corner before she could lose her courage. “Good morning. I’m Mrs. Fairfax. How may I help you?”

A completely unfamiliar matron wearing an exquisite fur-lined pelisse and a breathtaking diamond necklace stood in the doorway. To Charlotte’s utter shock, not only did the woman’s face light up upon spotting her, but the lady also bobbed slightly, as if giving a hurried curtsey.

Charlotte’s mouth fell open in amazement. She had never been curtsied to in all her life. Had never even dreamed of it.