Page 43 of Kiss Me Lady One More Time
“No. I know that. It just feels as if he’s hurrying me away. Or that he’s . . . disconnecting in some way.” She shook her head. “It’s just foolishness, on my part, I know. I don’t want to worry about it. Let’s concentrate on our mystery instead. You know, my first thought was that the girl was following us, but then I considered. We first saw her outside Lady Tresham’s old home, then at the park, then at the lady’s current address. Perhaps she might have been watching for Lady Tresham and not us at all.”
“Either is a possibility. Whomever stole Tensford’s fish might be watching us, to make sure we are not getting too close to the truth. But honestly, it’s just as likely that Lady Tresham owes someone some money—and they wish to collect it before she sets out on her trip.”
“Well, she’ll be gone from Town, soon enough, if she is not already. I suppose we must wait and see if the girl shows up again, in our footsteps.”
“That is entirely too passive for me,” Hope declared. “What if she is watching us and she becomes more adept at hiding? Or has someone else take her place? No. If we are being followed, I want to know—and why.” She raised her chin. “And I know just the person to help us.” Rising, she crossed to a lady’s writing desk situated at the window. “I’ll send a note now, and I’ll wager we have a plan of action by this evening.” She took a moment to scratch out a message, before folding and stamping the page. Finished, she reached out and pulled a cord. “Now, in the meantime—
“Begging your pardon, my lady.” A maid stood in the doorway. “I heard you ring, but I was already on my way up. There is a caller downstairs. She says as she’s an old friend, you won’t mind the early hour.”
Hope gestured for her to enter and took the card from the salver. “I’ll exchange this, if you’ll please see that this note is delivered to Craven Street, right away. Thank you, Mary.” She glanced at the card. “Old friend,” she snorted.
“Who is it?” Penelope asked.
“Tell her I’ll be down directly,” Hope told the maid. When the girl had gone, she came back to the breakfast table. Handing over the card, she took up a piece of toast.
“Oh.” Penelope handed the card back. “Lady Lowell. We saw her in the park.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “I never met the girl until after my betrothal. Tensford’s mother had been pushingherat him, you know.”
“I know she and the dowager countess were fast friends.” Penelope pulled a face. “That was enough to damn her in my eyes—and most everyone’s around Greystone and in the village.”
“They are two peas in a pod,” Hope sighed. “I swear, they compete to see who can snipe at me the most—in the most polite way, of course.” She took one last sip of tea. “Come. See her with me and we can claim a prior engagement and keep it short.”
They went down to find the lady in the parlor. She stood, examining a painting near the window.
“Good morning,” Hope said, entering. “Goodness, how bright you look this morning, Lady Lowell.”
The woman smiled in pleasure and ran her hand along her orange-almost-red skirts. “Thank you. One of the best things about being married is putting away the boring debutante wardrobe.” She gave Penelope’s light blue gown a disparaging glance. “I vow, I will never wear pastels again.”
“The bold colors suit you.” Hope swept her hand toward the chairs grouped nearby. “Please, sit. I’m afraid you’ve caught us just finishing breakfast and with an appointment to keep soon.”
“Oh, no matter. I will not stay long. I heard you were in Town and I just thought to pop in and see how you are getting on.” She gave Penelope a quick glance and focused again on the countess. “Is Tensford at home?”
“No. He left early this morning. He and his friends are off on some escapade or other.”
“Ah, yes. That group is quite devoted to each other, still.”
“As they always will be, I believe,” Hope countered.
“Well.” The other lady lifted ahead. “We all differ, I suppose, in many ways. I find I prefer my husband’s focus on me. He is quite devoted and very attentive.”
“Fortunately, Tensford’s heart is large and generous. He can hold quite a few of us close.”
Lady Lowell laughed. “Fortunately, my husband’s purse is large and generous, just as I like it.” She looked around and let her gaze linger on Penelope. “Lowell may only be a baronet, but his family is very old and distinguished.”
“Yes, when we met in the park you mentioned the family crossed over with the Normans.”
“And they have been close to the crown ever since.”
“I’m sure that must keep him very busy,” Penelope said.
“It does. But I don’t mind. He believes I fit in with their distinguished lineage very well.”
She turned her attention to the parlor about them. Penelope could see the critical wheels turning as she examined the walls, the art and the curtains.
“I’m surprised you have not redone the townhouse yet, my dear,” she said languidly to the countess. “But I suppose Greystone Park has been more demanding than you bargained for.”
“It has indeed. Far more.”
