Page 29 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
Lord Chambers, on the other hand...
Emily was just wondering how she might convince the marquess to spend a night or two hiding in bushes, when Lady Albermay spoke, interrupting Emily's plotting.
"Are we certain she remained in Kent?" the countess mused, aloud, "If I had spent a lifetime in service and had just inherited a fortune, there's no way I'd squirrel myself away in the countryside. I'd be in London, buying myself lavish gowns and taking ices in Gunter's."
This comment was met by stunned silence from her two guests, for both were thinking just how right she was. When Mary had first come up to town, after marrying Northcott, she had spent the entirety of the Little Season--and a good chunk of the duke's fortune--shopping on Bond Street, and dashing into every coffee shop orpatisserieshe passed. It was very possible--and highly likely--that Ethel was indulging in just the same manner.
"I wonder where Lady Hardthistle kept residence in London?" Emily mused, aloud.
"Belgravia, or perhaps Mayfair," Mary answered with certainty, "The old family seat would have gone to whoever inherited the title when her husband died, so I would assume her to be in a newer part of town. Lord Chambers will know--you might ask him, the next time you meet."
The last part was said in such a pointed, knowing manner, that Emily could not help but scowl at her sister. Until, that is, that she recalled they were in company and she assumed a more neutral expression which concealed her mutinous thoughts.
"This is all so exciting," Lady Albermay gave a wistful sigh.
Emily was filled with a sudden rush of sympathy for their hostess; though she lived in palatial splendour, it was clear that she was lonely and bored. And who could blame her, living as she was in a foreign land, with only a crotchety, elderly husband for company?
"As soon as we learn anything, we will call on you to tell you," Emily assured her.
"Even if we don't learn anything, we shall be calling soon," Mary added, as she swallowed down a second French fancy, "Your cook might be a thief, but he bakes a delicious fancy."
"Though your company is far preferential to the cakes," Emily elbowed her sister discreetly, and Mary gave a furious nod.
"Yes, of course it is," the duchess hastened to add, "The cakes merelyaccentuateyour wonderful demeanour."
Given her way with words, there was a very real danger that Mary would soon to turn into their mother, Emily thought with a sigh. Luckily, Lady Albermay appeared to find their behaviour more amusing than insulting, and she gave a delighted laugh.
"Oh, I cannot claim to be more enjoyable than one of cook's fancies," she smiled, "Though I do hope you call again."
The trio chatted for a few more minutes, then--given the hour--Mary and Emily were forced to take their leave. They departed with a cheery wave to the countess, and returned to St James' Square on a high.
They were in jubilant spirits when they arrived back in Northcott House, and the duke--hearing their giggles--came to meet them in the entrance hall.
"You're in fine fettle," he commented, as he bestowed a kiss upon Mary's cheek.
"What's that you've got?" Mary queried, as she pulled away, with a nod to the sheaf of paper the duke held in his hand.
"It's an invitation," he replied, darting an amused glance Emily's way, "It arrived moments before you."
"Who is it from?" Mary asked, as she shrugged off her pelisse and handed it to the hovering footman.
Northcott cleared his throat and glanced again at Emily, who felt a strange flutter of anticipation in her belly. There was no one in London who would invite her anywhere, especially so formally. Unless...but, no, that was a ridiculous thought...
"It's from Lord Chambers," Northcott answered, concealing a smile as Mary turned her head Emily's way so quickly that it was a wonder it didn't pop off her neck.
"He has invited us, or more specifically, Emily, to attend the theatre tomorrow evening. A comedy."
"A farce, more like," Emily muttered to herself, though no one paid her any heed. She was rather put-out that the marquess had given her no hint of his next move; she would now be forced to spend the evening listening to Mary predict a marriage proposal.
A proposal which would not materialise, for Emily suddenly realised that Lord Chambers must have issued the invitation because he had something urgent he wished to share with her about their investigation.
Yes, that was it, Emily told herself, as she absently watched Mary flutter about in a panic, that was the only reason he could have for such a bold move.
Yet, despite her assurances, Emily could not help but allow the memory of Lord Chambers' hand holding hers fill her mind. And for one, wistful moment, she wished that she was wrong.
Chapter Eight
Farley took more care than usual, the next evening, as he assisted Freddie with dressing for the theatre. The valet was all a dither as he attempted to tie the starched, white cravat at Freddie's neck, into an extravagant knot...for the seventh time.
