that,” Priscilla scoffed, eyes narrowing. “He’s only too happy to attend a ball when it isn’t ours!”
“That seems most unfair,” Daphne agreed.
“He must have some reason,” Ariadne insisted. “Could the marchioness be the married lady with whom he’d dallied?”
Emily’s hand jerked, smearing her stroke. She set the brush and palette down before she could do more damage. “I suppose I shall have to ask him.”
Ariadne’s eyes widened, and even Priscilla looked impressed, hurrying out of her pose at the edge of the thick carpet.
Daphne shook her head. “But you can’t. You don’t even have a chaperone.”
“Yes, whatever happened to your aunt Minerva?” Priscilla asked, moving to Emily’s side and frowning at the painting.
“Warburton insists that she is expected any day, but I have my doubts. Why would she come to London with the prospect of a new baby to cuddle? No, I simply cannot wait for her company to ask Lord Robert. I cannot wait even until tomorrow. We only have seven days . I must act now.”
“Well,” Priscilla said, “we can’t get ourselves invited to the marchioness’s ball tonight, but if Lord Robert is currently out shopping, you can be certain where he’ll be at some point or other.”
Ariadne and Daphne nodded. “Bond Street,” they chorused.
And that was how they all arrived on Bond Street, in search of Lord Robert.
Warburton hadn’t protested when Emily mentioned that the four of them would be together in the most famous shopping district in London on this sunny day. He’d even volunteered the carriage again. Emily’s nose was once more to the glass of the carriage’s windowpane as Mr. Phillips maneuvered the horses down Brooke Street and out into the bustling crowds along New Bond Street.
Fashionable shops hugged the street, their front windows displaying all manner of wonders, from satins that caught the light in a rainbow of colors to cakes topped with sugared plums. Everywhere strolled ladies in feathered hats, gentleman in shining boots. Maids with parasols and footmen laden with packages followed at a respectable distance, while children in tattered clothes darted among them, offering to hold horses, begging for coins.
“There!” Daphne cried, and Emily jumped. Following the line of her friend’s finger, she saw a certain tall, russet-haired gentleman just coming out of Number 13.
“That’s Gentleman Jackson’s,” Ariadne said. “You know, the Boxing Emporium where gentlemen go to learn fisticuffs .” She whispered this knowingly, sitting at the very edge of the cushioned seat.
Emily found it hard to imagine Lord Robert taking a punch to the jaw, but perhaps he was quick enough that he did more of the punching himself. He certainly didn’t seem any the worse for wear as he paused to tip his hat to a particularly pretty woman. Emily rapped on the panel overhead to get Mr. Phillips’s attention and directed him to let them out at the next corner. But the moment they set their boots to the pavement, Daphne seized Emily and Ariadne by an arm and dragged them into the recessed doorway of a linen draper’s shop.
“Priscilla,” she hissed, “quick, or he’ll see you!”
Priscilla slipped into the shadows with them. “Why are we hiding?” she asked as a group of young Hussars strolled by, the gold braid of their uniforms winking in the light. “The entire point of shopping on Bond Street is to see and be seen.”
“The point in shopping today is to learn more about Lord Robert,” Emily said. “Which will be a bit difficult in here.”
“I cannot imagine why this works in books,” Ariadne muttered, shifting to keep her elbow out of Emily’s stomach. “It’s quite uncomfortable.”
“Well, I certainly don’t want anyone to notice us following him,” Daphne said. “I’d like a reputation as a lady.” She paused to peer out. “Oh, it’s all right. He’s moved on.”
They spilled back onto the pavement in time to see
“That seems most unfair,” Daphne agreed.
“He must have some reason,” Ariadne insisted. “Could the marchioness be the married lady with whom he’d dallied?”
Emily’s hand jerked, smearing her stroke. She set the brush and palette down before she could do more damage. “I suppose I shall have to ask him.”
Ariadne’s eyes widened, and even Priscilla looked impressed, hurrying out of her pose at the edge of the thick carpet.
Daphne shook her head. “But you can’t. You don’t even have a chaperone.”
“Yes, whatever happened to your aunt Minerva?” Priscilla asked, moving to Emily’s side and frowning at the painting.
“Warburton insists that she is expected any day, but I have my doubts. Why would she come to London with the prospect of a new baby to cuddle? No, I simply cannot wait for her company to ask Lord Robert. I cannot wait even until tomorrow. We only have seven days . I must act now.”
“Well,” Priscilla said, “we can’t get ourselves invited to the marchioness’s ball tonight, but if Lord Robert is currently out shopping, you can be certain where he’ll be at some point or other.”
Ariadne and Daphne nodded. “Bond Street,” they chorused.
And that was how they all arrived on Bond Street, in search of Lord Robert.
Warburton hadn’t protested when Emily mentioned that the four of them would be together in the most famous shopping district in London on this sunny day. He’d even volunteered the carriage again. Emily’s nose was once more to the glass of the carriage’s windowpane as Mr. Phillips maneuvered the horses down Brooke Street and out into the bustling crowds along New Bond Street.
Fashionable shops hugged the street, their front windows displaying all manner of wonders, from satins that caught the light in a rainbow of colors to cakes topped with sugared plums. Everywhere strolled ladies in feathered hats, gentleman in shining boots. Maids with parasols and footmen laden with packages followed at a respectable distance, while children in tattered clothes darted among them, offering to hold horses, begging for coins.
“There!” Daphne cried, and Emily jumped. Following the line of her friend’s finger, she saw a certain tall, russet-haired gentleman just coming out of Number 13.
“That’s Gentleman Jackson’s,” Ariadne said. “You know, the Boxing Emporium where gentlemen go to learn fisticuffs .” She whispered this knowingly, sitting at the very edge of the cushioned seat.
Emily found it hard to imagine Lord Robert taking a punch to the jaw, but perhaps he was quick enough that he did more of the punching himself. He certainly didn’t seem any the worse for wear as he paused to tip his hat to a particularly pretty woman. Emily rapped on the panel overhead to get Mr. Phillips’s attention and directed him to let them out at the next corner. But the moment they set their boots to the pavement, Daphne seized Emily and Ariadne by an arm and dragged them into the recessed doorway of a linen draper’s shop.
“Priscilla,” she hissed, “quick, or he’ll see you!”
Priscilla slipped into the shadows with them. “Why are we hiding?” she asked as a group of young Hussars strolled by, the gold braid of their uniforms winking in the light. “The entire point of shopping on Bond Street is to see and be seen.”
“The point in shopping today is to learn more about Lord Robert,” Emily said. “Which will be a bit difficult in here.”
“I cannot imagine why this works in books,” Ariadne muttered, shifting to keep her elbow out of Emily’s stomach. “It’s quite uncomfortable.”
“Well, I certainly don’t want anyone to notice us following him,” Daphne said. “I’d like a reputation as a lady.” She paused to peer out. “Oh, it’s all right. He’s moved on.”
They spilled back onto the pavement in time to see
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