And it had happened right here. In front of Anthony!

“It is you. I am certain of it.” The lady clasped her silk-gloved hands together. “You absolutely must come with me at once. That is, at your earliest convenience. I shall pay extra. The situation, you see, is dire. I am having an absolute crisis with the downstairs maids, and my housekeeper has threatened to find other employment. I cannot possibly lose her! Mrs. Trimble has worked at Roundtree Manor longer than I’ve been alive.”

Charlotte stared at her. A crisis with the downstairs maids? At Roundtree Manor?

“Lady Roundtree.” Anthony sketched a quick bow. “Forgive me for not immediately recognizing you.”

“Never mind that, young man. I am in positive jeopardy. A baronetcy may not compare to a duchy or an earldom, but it is my duty to see it run just as efficiently. Except the details have always been Mrs. Trimble’s responsibility. Heavens, I’ve never spoken to the servants. I would be lost! My dear, you are my last hope. Mrs. Podmore said you sorted out her hunt for a governess. Do say you’ll come to Roundtree Manor and sort out my housekeeper at once. You may name your price.”

“That does sound appalling,” Anthony said with a glance at his pocket watch. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Fairfax is booked solid the rest of the morning.”

Charlotte slanted a shocked stare in his direction.

“But if you would like to send a coach for her at six o’clock this evening,” he continued easily, “I am certain my wife can spare a moment to speak with your staff before they begin to prepare the evening meal.”

“Yes,” Lady Roundtree gushed. “This absolutely must be resolved before supper. It shall be as you say. A coach will be right on that corner, promptly at six. Thank you ever so much.”

When the door closed behind Lady Roundtree, Charlotte launched herself at Anthony. “That was the wealthy old biddy we needed. Why would you tell her I’m booked solid? What if she had shrugged and walked away?”

“For one,” Anthony said as he swung her in celebratory circles, “proper ladies never shrug.”

She pulled out of his embrace. “I’m serious. What if she had left? We need this money. You need this money.”

“Not just this money—two thousand quid more.” Anthony took her hand. “Trust me, darling. I live in this world. Never let them believe getting what they want will be easy. By appearing selective and exclusive, your price undoubtedly just tripled.” He grinned. “Whatever she offers to pay you, double it. And don’t blink an eye.”

“Double it?” Charlotte choked. She had no idea how much Lady Roundtree believed speaking to a housekeeper was worth, but the sum was no doubt far more exorbitant than the task merited. “Why would she pay it?”

He clasped his hands together and affected a pose of sweeping tragedy. “Because it is a crisis, darling. The lady is in positive jeopardy.”

Charlotte burst out laughing at his dramatic rendition. But more than humor, he had given her a measure of hope. If Anthony could not amass enough money to stay out of prison, she would offer every penny she owned if it would buy them even a few more weeks together.

He stroked the back of her hand. “Now that you have a day of freedom, how would you like to spend it?”

She bit her lip. There was only one answer. “If you would grant me permission, I am desperate to see my mother. She is the only thing I ever loved in this city, and I have missed her dreadfully these past few weeks.”

“Permission?” he repeated in surprise. “You don’t need my permission to see your family. I’d like your permission to accompany you. If you’ll have me.”

At first, she couldn’t make sense of his words. Surely she had mistook his meaning. “Accompany me?”

“Your mother,” he repeated, his gaze earnest. “I’d like to meet her.”

Charlotte’s heart beat faster. Did he understand what he was asking? What it would mean for him to pay a social call on an ex-courtesan? What it would mean to Charlotte?

“I don’t know,” she stammered. What would he think of her mother? What would her mother think of him? She didn’t want either to be hurt. She had done enough of that herself, the last time she’d spoken to her mother. They hadn’t parted company on the best of terms. “I swore I wouldn’t go back until I had changed my fortune. Until I could provide for her. Until I could prove I was worth something.”

He tilted his head in surprise. “You are worth everything.” He lifted her fingers to his lips. “I may not be as eloquent as Lady Roundtree, but I value you very, very much. That’s why I’d like to meet your mother. So I can get to know you even better.”

She gazed up at him doubtfully, then swallowed her objections. Before she could change her mind, she gave a short nod in acquiescence.

A smile bloomed over his face.

She gathered her courage and smiled back.

“Do you mind if we leave posthaste?” Now that the plan was made, she couldn’t wait to be on her way. She glanced over her shoulder at the silent, empty townhouse. There was certainly nothing requiring their immediate attention here. Not until Lady Roundtree came back. “I suppose we should take care to return by six. I seem to recall some sort of critical appointment on my agenda.”

“Life and death,” he agreed. “I promise you’ll be home in time to fleece that goosecap out of scads of money.”

Home. Pleasure spread through her at his choice of words. Not because she aspired to share a townhouse with his parents. But because he was right. Anyplace they were together felt like home.

But what would he think of the area she’d grown up in? Would he judge her or her mother for the activities that took place beneath that roof in order to keep them both clothed and fed?

She pushed her misgivings aside as he hailed a hackney cab. She continued to keep a brave face as she gave the direction to the jarvey, who raised his eyebrows at the address. Either he recognized the neighborhood…or he knew Charlotte’s mother.

She did her best to remain placid as the hack pulled to a stop before her mother’s townhouse.

“This the place?” the jarvey asked, giving them a speculative look.

In silence, Charlotte gave him an extra coin.

She stood on the edge of the cobbled road next to Anthony as the hack rolled away.

The street looked the same. The houses. The people. Just coming this far made her feel like she was slipping back into her old self. To the defiant little girl who loved her mother dearly but publicly denied any relation to the whore on the corner. To the despairing young woman who fled in search of a father who had never existed. To escape a life that had only brought shame.

Apprehension made the air feel like molasses. She took Anthony’s hand and led him up the walk to the front door. She wasn’t certain if she gripped his fingers for strength—or to keep him from running away when he realized what he had done. This was her reality. She couldn’t rewrite the past. Have different parents. Redo her childhood. For better or for worse, this was where she had come from. Who part of her would always be.

The door swung open before her knuckles had even touched the knocker.

Her mother stood before her wearing an expression of shock and pleasure.

Charlotte gazed back at her mother’s familiar countenance. With so few years between them, was it any wonder they were mirror images? One had to look closely to find the differences in her mother’s face. Tiny lines crinkled at the edges of identical blue eyes. A few strands of gray blended with identical golden curls. They shared the same height, the same curves, the same smile.

Except neither of them was smiling now. Her mother’s surprised eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” she gasped. “I thought you were never coming back.”

“That’s because you knew it was a fool’s mission. I thought I knew better,” Charlotte admitted with self-deprecation. “May I come in?”

Her mother pulled her forward and into her arms. “You can. Of course you can. You can stay as long as you like. This will always be your home.”

Mixed emotions assailed Charlotte as she returned her mother’s embrace. She didn’t want this to be her home. She abhorred every memory she held of this place.

And yet it contained her mother. Someone who Charlotte had never stopped loving.

She leaned back to pull Anthony across the threshold. “This is Mr. Anthony Fairfax.”

Her mother shot her a startled look out of the corner of her eye.

“No,” Charlotte choked out. “He’s not here for that. Anthony is my husband. Darling, this is my mother. Miss Judith Devon.”

He sketched a grandiose bow. “The pleasure is indeed mine.”

Her mother stared in disbelief, then dipped an equally elegant curtsey.

“The pleasure…” Scarlet flooded her cheeks as she turned toward Charlotte. “A husband. Does he—Did you—”

“Yes. He knows.” Charlotte led them into the front salon, which was just as elegant as last she’d seen it, if a little worn at the edges. “That is partly why I’m here.”

Her mother frowned. “What do you mean?”

Charlotte pulled a ruby ear bob from her reticule. “Who gave these to you?”

Her mother’s eyes lowered. “That was so long ago. It doesn’t matter anymore. It never mattered.”

“It mattered to me,” Charlotte said softly. “It mattered to a little girl who longed for a father.”

Her mother’s shoulders crumpled. “I never meant for you to be born ruined. I wanted to be a good mother to my baby, but my only choices were to keep you or leave you on the steps of a church.”

Charlotte’s throat tightened. As a small child, she had often fantasized about running away to an orphanage so that some other family could adopt her. A family respectable enough that, someday, Charlotte could marry well and come back to rescue her mother So that they could both have a happy ending.