Dot had almost forgotten that this woman was Blanks’ stepmother.
“But what mother doesn’t want to see her child carried on?” the woman asked.
“I understand.”
“I advise you not to worry about it,” Mr. Pankhurst said. “Two years isn’t so long. They can still have children.”
Mrs. James directed a dreamy smile at Dot’s father. “I do hope you’re right.”
What a night this has been for personal reflections, Dot thought. She could not remember any time when people had spoken so candidly on such personal topics.
“Mrs. James Blankenship has done me the goodness of permitting me to accompany her to the Pump Room tomorrow,” Mr. Pankhurst said.
Dot was most pleased, especially since she had plans of her own the following day, plans she had no intentions of sharing with her father. Or anyone, save Forrester and Annie.
Forrester came to her and offered her a glass of port. “I have noticed that you’ve been so busy being the perfect hostess you’ve neglected to imbibe yourself.”
She thanked him as she took the drink.
He lowered his voice. “A pity they don’t make muzzles for young ladies.”
“Perhaps you judge Abby too harshly, my dearest.” Dot placed a gentle hand on his sleeve. “You must make allowances for her tender age.”
“You, my love, are much too tender hearted.”
A grave expression on his face, he shook his head. “Would you believe that Annie had a long talk today with our youngest sister to urge her to weigh all of her words before she blurted them out?”
“No, I wouldn’t. Perhaps Abby’s shortcoming is hearing?”
“My sister hears perfectly.”
“Then her problem must lie with comprehension.”
“I don’t know. I assure you my other sisters are highly intelligent—much like my Dot.”
She loved it when he referred to her as My Dot. “You must make allowances for her youth.”
He shook his head. “The word punishment was used by Jonathan Blankenship tonight. Perhaps that’s what Abby needs. Were she punished for tonight’s thoughtless outbursts, she might learn to think before she speaks.”
“I will own the futility of my efforts to train my naughty cats by punishing them when they, for example, attack my newspaper. Punishment has not been successful.”
He grimaced. “It would work with dogs.”
“You surely wouldn’t harm her!”
“Never. I was thinking of not allowing her to attend certain fetes until she can demonstrate the appropriate social graces.” His gaze fanned over the assemblage. “Everyone enjoyed tonight’s salon very much, and we still have whist to look forward to. Quite a successful night, I’d say.”
“Mrs. Moreland was just saying she’d like to have the next salon soon at Winston Hall. “But next time, Abby will not be permitted to attend.”
“It sounds too cruel, even if it might be effective.”
Annie came to them, and Forrester apprised her of the plan to “punish” Abby.
“I vigorously endorse such a plan,” she said. Then she turned to Dot. “Speaking of that wretchedly careless sister of ours, I wanted to tell you I won’t be able to join you and Timothy tomorrow. I had promised to go with Abby to the dressmaker’s, and it will take most of the day. My sister is the most undecisive person ever to draw breath.”
“And what is it we’re supposed to be doing tomorrow?” he asked Dot, a mock look of sternness on his face.
“Annie and I were speaking of finding the scene of the murder,” Dot whispered.
“And how,” he asked, “do you propose to find this?”
“I’ll show you tomorrow.”
Since all the tables were set up, she encouraged her guests to pair up for the games. It did not escape her attention that her father claimed Mrs. James Blankenship for his partner. She and Forrester were partners against Catherine and Melvin Steffington. She was amused that Sir Elvin’s table included Annie, who was his partner, Agnes, and his eldest sister, Ann. The two youngest sisters, Abby and Lizzy, did not play but sat together on the sofa, giggling and sharing confidences.
This first time she had played whist with her future husband, she discovered they made a good pair, even though the competition from the Steffingtons was stiff.
It was well past two in the morning before her guests left. Forrester was the last to leave, and she suspected it was because he wished to steal a kiss. Which he did in front of the fireplace when everyone else had gone.
“Are you sure you want to look for the place of Ellie’s murder tomorrow?” he asked.
Still flushed and feeling weightless from their kiss, she nodded, her eyelids heavy.
He pressed one last kiss to her cheek and left.
Chapter 18
“So you’ve got some notion that we’ll be able to find the spot where Ellie Macintosh was murdered.” Appleton’s gaze moved from Dot to that damned orange cat with that ridiculous name.
To annoy him even more, the furry creature leapt upon his lap and curled up as if he meant to affix himself permanently. Already, Appleton could see that the pesky feline was shedding a mixture of white and ginger-coloured hair onto his dark brown breeches.
Digby was not going to be happy. His valet was far more particular over his master’s clothing than Appleton himself was.
From the delighted expression on Dot’s face, one might have thought the queen herself was bestowing a royal visit at the Pankhurst residence. “Oh, look how sweet! Lover Boy adores you.”
Why couldn’t the beast understand when it was neither wanted nor appreciated? A dog would have known. But, then, dogs were intelligent. He could not say the same for cats. Bothersome creatures.
He was at a loss as to how to respond. He could hardly risk telling her how unfavorably he looked upon her cherished cat. Lying was something he’d always avoided. He lifted a stiff hand and attempted to pet the cat.
The animal started to make a deep, rumbling sound but continued to stay coiled on Appleton’s lap and look as if he were sleeping. What the devil? He looked up at Dot.
If possible, she looked even more delighted. “You’ve made
