Page 15 of An Unwilling Earl
“Our door is always open to you, Lord Ashland,” Sarah’s mother said.
Sarah turned her back to her mother and gave Jacob a sympathetic look as if sayingwhat can I do?
Jacob smiled at her and headed to the front door where the butler was waiting with his coat and hat.
He said his goodbyes and stepped out into the chill, wet evening. The sun was already setting, causing him to shiver against the cold. He wondered if Charlotte was warm, wherever she was.
Chapter Six
When Charlotte’s rescuer had stepped into Sarah’s home Charlotte had felt her two worlds colliding. It was a cold, numb feeling, and she stood in the rain for the longest time in front of Sarah’s house, wondering whathewas doing there.
She’d returned to her dismal room but had not been able to sleep. Why had he visited Sarah?Who was he?
By the morning she was convinced of two things: her rescuer’s presence at her best friend’s house was not a coincidence, and she must discover why he was there.
She waited for her moment and confronted Sarah while her friend was strolling through Hanover Square. To say Sarah was shocked to see Charlotte, especially dressed as she was, would be an understatement. But Charlotte had limited time before Sarah’s maid raised an alarm, so they spoke quickly and quietly.
“His name is Jacob Baker,” Sarah said. “He’s a solicitor. Your aunt tried to hire him to find you, but, smart man that he is, he wanted nothing to do with her. However, your story intrigued him, so he’s been doing a little investigating on his own and discovered our friendship.”
“You didn’t tell him anything, did you?” Charlotte asked as the panic built inside her.Her aunt was looking for her?
“I told him everything.”
But Charlotte knew that Sarah didn’t really tell this Jacob Baker everything. Because Sarah didn’t know the real story.
“He genuinely wants to help you,” Sarah said.
“He doesn’t even know me!” Charlotte had an overwhelming urge to flee, to run back to the rookery. To hide. Until now she hadn’t realized how safe she’d felt in one of the most unsafe places in the city. The mere anonymity of the rookery had saved her.
“I think you should go to him, Charlotte. I really feel you can trust him.”
Charlotte didn’t know who to trust, where to turn. What she did know was that while the rookery offered her protection, she couldn’t hide in there forever. She needed a plan. She needed help.
And Jacob Baker seemed to be the only person who wanted to help her. If Sarah was correct, Mr. Baker didn’t trust her aunt, and that was a plus for Charlotte.
So Charlotte found herself standing in front of his home—a stately, middle-class townhome—watching women promenade down the street in their fine gowns and fancy hats as she scratched a spot on her arm and shifted from one foot to the other.
Jacob Baker.
A solicitor.
She wasn’t exactly sure what a solicitor did, but thought it had something to do with the law.
Could he help her?
Should she trust Sarah?
She had been standing there for far longer than appropriate. Surely a neighbor would spy her and shoo her away. But something held her back.
What if Sarah was wrong? What if Jacob Baker couldn’t help her?
She needed to make a decision. Walk away or knock on the door? Walking away would put her right back where she was. Knocking on the door would give her some options, at least.
She climbed the narrow, well-tended stone steps and knocked. The door was answered by a stout woman with rosy cheeks, a small nose, and glittering blue eyes. Frazzled pieces of reddish hair stuck out from beneath a white cap.
The woman’s grin disappeared when she saw a bedraggled, filthy lad. She used the heavy door as a barrier, closing it enough that only her head stuck out.
“Go on, you,” she said. “We don’t give to beggars. Knocking on a respectable gentleman’s door like this. You should be ashamed. Get on.”
