“You don’t?” Ivy bit her lip. “Oh dear. Well then, never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you with such a strange request.”
“No, no. Wait.” Maud put her hand on Ivy’s arm. “I may not get asked much, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know someone who might help…”
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” laughed Maud. “Yes, really. He helped Laurie when we wanted to make some changes here a couple of years ago.” She thought for a moment. “I wonder if he still has offices in town.”
“Who’s that, darling?” Sir Laurence came up silently behind them and made both women jump.
“Goodness, Sir Laurence.” Ivy held a hand to her heart. “You do sneak up.”
“Sorry,” he grinned, looking completely unrepentant.
“He does it all the time,” complained Maud. “But since you’re here…do you know if the O’Malleys still have an office in town? Are they still working in London?”
Sir Laurence paused, glanced curiously at his wife, and then at Ivy. “She’s not talking about tearing anything down and rebuilding, is she?” He tipped his head toward Maud.
“Not at all,” chuckled Ivy. “I’m the one who needs help. I have some…um…stonework that needs doing. I was wondering if you might have a recommendation for someone to do it.”
“Then O’Malley is your man. His workers are excellent and I’d certainly recommend them for that sort of thing.” He paused in thought. “And yes, I believe I might have their direction here in London. Remind me before you leave, Miss Ivy, and I’ll jot it down for you.”
“I will be eternally grateful, Sir Laurence. I know absolutely nothing about masonry, so an expert’s advice will be most welcome.”
Maud nodded. “Agreed.” She glanced at Ivy. “If you’ll forgive my familiarity…and with your colouring my dear, you must get asked this all the time…how much Irish is there in your heritage?”
Ivy shook her head. “None, as far as I know. Although I believe my companion, Elvina, was originally from somewhere in southern Ireland. But that’s all I can tell you. The Siddingtons are a mix of bits of everything, as are so many of such families, so if there is a dash of Irish in the familial stew, it’s not anything I’ve ever heard of.”
“I only asked because O’Malley’s is owned and staffed by Irishmen. I think they’ll be charmed to work with a young lady whose appearance might well remind them of home.”
Ivy shrugged. “As long as they don’t expect me to break into songs about the Emerald Isle, it’ll be fine.”
“There’s a lovely one about the lass from…”
Maud elbowed her husband sharply in the ribs. “Not now, dear.”
“Ow.” He massaged his side and frowned at her. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“I know that song.”
“Oh.” He sighed. “I forgot.”
“Perhaps some other time, Sir Laurence,” said Ivy, biting back a laugh. “But I would appreciate an address for the O’Malley’s if you have one.”
“Of course, my dear. I’ll pop along to my study and get it for you right now.” He grinned at Maud. “Before my wife decides to break another rib.”
Maud sighed as he left. “The O’Malleys are excellent, Ivy,” she said, ignoring her departing husband. “Sir Ronan, the owner, has a great deal of well-founded pride in his organisation. Apparently they’ve been stonemasons for more than a few generations.” She returned to her surveillance of the ballroom. “His family was recognised with a title and lands many years ago, back when some minor royal decided to buy land in Ireland and the O’Malleys built him the finest home in the county.”
“That really does sound exactly like the sort of organisation I need to help with my project,” mused Ivy. “Perhaps this Sir Ronan might have some suggestions that would help. I expect he has years of experience under his belt.”
Maud’s lips curved into an attractive, if enigmatic smile. “I’m sure he does.”
Ivy couldn’t help but wonder, as the hours progressed, exactly what that odd little smile signified. But since she had the O’Malley direction in her reticule, she counted the evening a complete success.
Tomorrow she would learn for herself if this Sir Ronan would live up to Lady Maud’s recommendation. She was rather looking forward to it.
Chapter Three
True to her plan, Ivy set off the following morning with the address of the O’Malley business offices clasped in her hand. Her maid wasn’t quite sure about the entire matter, since she’d been conscripted to accompany her mistress while she walked from Vine Place into the City proper; a lengthy stroll over more than a mile.
Why Miss Ivy couldn’t have taken a carriage was beyond her, and she panted as she followed her young mistress’s footsteps.
“Keep up, Betty.” Ivy slowed her pace. “We’re almost there.”
“Thank God,” muttered the maid, clearly fighting for breath.
“You should come down to Siddington Castle. A few walks around there and you’d be able to run all over London without a problem.”
The look she received in answer to this bracing comment spoke volumes. “If you say so, Miss Ivy.”
“I do indeed.” Ivy’s lips twitched, but she refrained from pursuing the matter by glancing down at the paper in her hand. “This is it, I believe. The O’Malley offices should be here on the ground floor.” She glanced at Betty. “Let’s go and find out, shall we? I expect there are chairs, so you can rest.”
“Then God bless the O’Malleys,” replied Betty earnestly, making Ivy laugh aloud.
The building was tidy, clean, and Ivy found no complaints as she and Betty walked down the wide corridor toward the rear. The tile beneath their feet gleamed, as did the beautiful wainscoting. Clearly the occupants made sure their surroundings were well cared-for.
A large door with a sign next to it brought Ivy to a halt. “Aha.” She nodded.
