“Yer too much like I was, sister,” he said. “Ye’ll be worse aff for it in the end.”
She hitched a fist on a hip and cocked her head. “Tell me, brither: Hou would it be possible to be worse aff than ye nou?” She strode up the stairs.
Duncan drew his watch from his pocket. Thick gold with the crest of clan Eads embossed upon it, it was the last family heirloom remaining. It’d have to go now. He’d seen the quick calculation in the lady’s lily pad eyes; he couldn’t have her spending her pin money on his sisters. That, and if he was going to distract the matchmaker from her program he’d need to look the part of a gentleman. A trip to the pawn broker then to the tailor, and he’d be ready to embark on his own mission to save the virtue of a clever maiden from himself.
5
There were lessons to be learned from taking four Highland Scotswomen of modest means and little London experience to the drawing room of one of society’s grandest ladies at the fashionable hour.
For instance, nine out of ten London ladies and seven out of ten London gentlemen do not apparently understand brogue. Also, three out of five debutantes are atrociously spiteful, and two out of five young gentlemen actually emit drool from their mouths when introduced to a girl of Moira’s beauty. Finally, Scottish ladies do not hold their tongues when their elders chastise them unjustly.
The visit to Lady Beaufetheringstone’s house was not, however, a thorough wash. Tobias’s championing of the Eads ladies was enough to make a sister cry in gratitude. Lady B was splendid too. Upon their departure she apologized for the horrendous manners of several of her guests (“I will cut them from my guest list!”) and said she wished Lady Una and Lady Moira to attend her ball three days hence. Young Lady Lily may attend too if she could restrain herself from knocking over every potted plant, vase, and footman. Lady Abigail was welcome to enjoy the Beaufetheringstone library to her heart’s content during the ball (“Really, my dear, dancing is the least of what goes on at one of my balls. But you may bury your nose in a book if you prefer.”).
All in all, it could have gone worse.
Teresa sank back against the squabs of the carriage Toby had hired for them and closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry it didna go aff as ye planned,” Una said. “I’m afeart we havena much talent for high society.”
“Yet.” Teresa sat straight up. “You only require a touch of town bronze, which will come in time.” Time she did not have. Twenty-six days and counting. “Isn’t that true, Toby?”
He smiled comfortably at Una. “Quite right.”
Una returned his smile.
“May we stop at the bookshop on our way home?” Abigail asked.
Teresa needed a nap then a pot of tea before she started planning again.
And she was eager to take up her pen and add the knocking-over-the-
footman incident to her latest little tale about the make-believe town of Harpers Crest Cove. Freddie would love it.
But Moira’s face was drawn and Lily was tucked miserably into her corner of the carriage, entirely unlike her usual sunny self.
“Yes. Let’s stop at the bookshop,” Teresa said. “If I remember correctly, there is a shop nearby that sells the tastiest lemon ices imaginable.”
Lily’s eyes brightened. “I do like ices.”
“Ye like all confections,” Abigail said. “Ye even liked that book about confections I found for ye last week.”
Lily smiled, restored to her usual glow. “I should have liked to read it through, but I’d nothing to trade for it.”
“Ah.” Tobias reached into his pocket. “It just so happens that I have a book here that I’ve been meaning to sell.” He pulled forth a small volume. “We shall trade this for your confectioner’s book, Lady Lily.”
“Oh, thank ye!” She took the proffered volume cheerily.
Una caught Teresa’s eye and her brow lifted. Teresa offered a breezy smile, but she’d glimpsed the title. It was her brother’s most cherished book, a history by an ancient Greek historian that he had carried with him to war and back again.
“Thank ye, sir,” Una said. “Yer kind to our family.”
“I pray you, don’t thank me, my lady,” he replied. “It’s my pleasure.”
The bookshop was an elegant little cabinet at the end of a long corridor from an unremarkable door leading off the street, snug, smelling of lemon polish, and ceiling to floor with books. But the wood of the bookshelves sparkled, the chairs arranged here and there were beautifully upholstered, and several very fine albeit tiny oil paintings decorated the miniscule wall space. The shopkeeper greeted them distractedly. Then abruptly he came to attention and slid off his stool behind the desk. He straightened his spectacles and smoothed out his otherwise neat waistcoat.
“Good day, ladies.” He bowed. “Lady Abigail,” he said in a quieter voice.
She gave him a little smile and a nod then went to a shelf and pulled down a book.
“Is this the one ye showed me afore, sir?” she said.
“Yes.” He hurried to her. “Yes. That’s the one.”
Una, Moira, and Lily wandered deeper into the shop. Teresa took her brother’s arm to detain him.
“You went off so swiftly yesterday after our ride in the park that I hadn’t the opportunity to speak with you privately,” she whispered.
“Ah, yes. Sorry about that.” He seemed distracted.
“And . . .?”
“And?”
“It’s been three days and you haven’t said a word about your conversation with Lord Eads. Did you speak with him?” The earl had not accepted the invitation to walk in the park with his sisters the previous day, and the day before that had been taken up entirely with measuring and hemming gowns.
Teresa was rather desperate to see him again. But she supposed he saw no reason for that unless he owed her payment on their wager.
Abigail and the shopkeeper stood with their heads bent close, whispering earnestly. He gestured with the book as though to emphasize a point. She laughed. Abigail—serious, bookish, quiet Abigail who had not spoken a single syllable at Lady B’s drawing room—
Teresa stared. Then, as the shopkeeper moved half a step closer to Abigail, her belly filled with butterflies.
“Toby?” she whispered. “Did Lord Eads meet with your approval? I must assume he did or you would not be ferrying his sisters about in a carriage you hired.”
“I didn’t hire it. Eads did, of course.” Tobias was still facing her but his gaze was fixed deeper into the shop. Teresa didn’t have to follow his attention to know where it rested.
Her nerves sang. Abigail and the bookseller!
She drew in a steadying breath. She mustn’t get ahead of herself. But now Abigail was looking straight into the shopkeeper’s face and her hand rested beside his on the open page.
“Tell me, Toby.” Nerves cracked her voice.
Tobias’s attention came back to her a little dazedly. She resisted turning to see if Lily’s eyes were likewise hazy.
“I spoke with Yale,” he said. “He admitted that Eads has an unsavory past, but before that there was a tragedy in the family.” He looked grave. “It seems his full sister perished under peculiar circumstances while he was in the East Indies. It drove his father into the grave. Soon after that, when Yale met Eads in the Indies, the earl was in mourning over the death of his wife—a French girl.” Tobias shook his head. “Poor fellow, losing both
