the time Mr. Jefferson Williams stepped onto the balcony to retrieve his wife, Blake was at the rail again, sipping his brandy, looking into the garden. If Williams saw him, he paid him no mind.
“Are you ready to go, Mrs. Williams? I have an early morning appointment.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Williams.”
The hem of her gown almost brushed Blake’s polished boot as she glided past him. Either Mr. Williams didn’t see him or he didn’t care what his wife did on balconies with strangers.
Blake smiled. Yet another reason to be in no hurry to wed…
5
“Ah, there you are, ma chère.” Lucia swept into the bedchamber Sapphire and Angelique were sharing on the third floor of Lord and Lady Carlisle’s town house near Charing Cross, dressed for the afternoon in a pale green and lavender barege gown, gloves and a berib-boned straw bonnet. “Are you certain you won’t join Lady Carlisle and me for tea at Lady Morrow’s?”
“No, thank you, Auntie.” Sapphire glanced up from her book of Lord Byron’s poetry, trying to appear fatigued. “I’m afraid I’m still tired. My horseback ride this morning with Lord Carlisle was long and I think I’d rather just stay here and cozy up with my book.”
“Very well, puss.” Lucia sighed as she adjusted her new bonnet with its upturned brim that made her look years younger. “I can stay with you if you like, though. I don’t really want to go visit with Lady Morrow. Nearly a month on the ship with her was enough to last me a lifetime, but I was just going so we could stop at the Royal Exchange on the way home.”
Sapphire, wearing a ruffled, ribboned blue dressing gown, was seated in a chair under the window, her legs tucked beneath her. “Don’t be silly, Auntie. I wouldn’t want you to stay on my behalf, especially when you have the chance to shop.” She smiled mischievously.
“Well, I suppose Angelique will be here with you should you need anything.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Sapphire intoned, pretending to read again.
“Where is Angelique, anyway?”
“I believe she might be taking a walk in the gardens.” Sapphire licked her fingertip and turned the page of the book without looking up. “Or did she say she was going to the stables to see those new kittens again? I can’t recall.”
“Well, all right.” Lucia rested her hand on the glass doorknob. “You’re certain you’ll be fine?”
“Of course—now go and don’t worry about me. A little reading, perhaps a nap, and I’ll be fine by dinner.” Sapphire smiled sweetly.
“All right, dear.” Lucia opened the door to go, then turned back, her hand still on the doorknob. “I do hope this has nothing to do with my not allowing you to go immediately to Lord Wessex’s residence. I understand your impatience with wanting to meet your father, but we’ve not even been here a full day and there are channels to follow, society rules to oblige. This is far too important to make a muck of it.”
“I understand. You’re right, absolutely right.” Sapphire turned another page and reached for her teacup on the table beside her. “Have fun, and do buy yourself a hat. The one you’re wearing today is delightful.”
The door closed and Sapphire glanced up over the top of her book, listening as her guardian’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, then down the stairs. She took a deep breath, still listening, as she rose and set the book down, using a piece of wide hair ribbon to mark her place.
Walking to the bed, she knelt, pulled her mother’s old leather casket out and gently lifted the lid. Smiling tenderly, she drew her fingers over the brittle love letters given to her mother by her father when they were courting—letters she had reread a hundred times during the journey to London. Also inside was her mother’s locket, worn in her days in New Orleans, and a small curl of Sapphire’s auburn hair. Deeper in the small, leather-bound trunk she found pressed flowers, a tiny silver hairbrush that had been Sapphire’s as a baby and one of Armand’s old handkerchiefs. Digging beneath the lining at the bottom of the casket, her fingers found the velvet bag she sought. Sitting back on her knees, she opened the drawstrings of the bag and lifted the cold, smooth gem from the soft folds of the fabric.
Sapphire’s breath caught in her throat as she lifted the jewel toward the window and the sunlight struck it, lighting it with a blue brilliance that was almost blinding. After all these years, she was going to meet her father….
“But I think our meeting will not be what you imagined, Mama,” she said, pressing a kiss to the glittering jewel. “I’ve a thing or two to say to this man, I’ll warrant you.” She eased the sapphire into the black velvet bag, tightened the string and returned it beneath the casket’s worn burgundy velvet lining, so that even if a nosy servant did open the box, she would never suspect the treasure hidden inside. To the unknowing eye, the old, battered leather casket looked simply like a box of worthless female keepsakes.
Sapphire pushed the trunk back under the bed and got to her feet, her fingers untying the ribbons of her dressing gown. Confident Lucia was in Lady Carlisle’s carriage by now, she stripped off the gown to reveal the dress she’d bought as soon as they’d arrived in London, the dress she would wear when she confronted her father.
Sapphire placed the dressing gown on the bed and turned toward the floor-length oval mirror. The dress was actually of two pieces, a skirt and a front-buttoning jacket with a short basque in a brilliant jewel-blue challis. The sleeves were narrow, as was the latest fashion, and dainty new square-toed black leather boots peeked from beneath her petticoats.
She smiled at her reflection, knowing that the moment her father saw her eyes—one blue, one green like his—he would know who she was.
But she realized she had no time to waste if she was going to escape the house undetected, meet Lord Wessex, and then be back before Lucia and Lady Carlisle returned. She went in search of the bonnet she wanted to wear. It was her plan not to tell Lucia what she had done, and then, when they were formally introduced according to the plans Lady Carlisle and Lucia were making, there would be no scene. Once she had given him a piece of her mind privately—out of respect for her mother and Armand—she would be cordial, if not remote, publicly.
The door opened as Sapphire lowered her bonnet over her auburn curls, and she whipped around to see Angelique walk in, her dark hair mussed and the bodice of her peach-colored day gown slightly rumpled.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Angelique demanded.
Sapphire turned to the mirror, adjusting the hat before drawing the ribbons under her neck. “Me? What about you? What do you think you’ve been doing? Though why I bother to ask, I don’t know.”
Angelique sighed and threw herself on the bed. “His name is Robert and he’s the stable master’s eldest son. He thinks I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.”
Sapphire glanced doubtfully at her companion, then back at the mirror, attempting to achieve just the right tilt of her bonnet. “We spoke of this before we left Martinique, Angel,” she chastised. “You cannot kiss every young man you run into.”
“And why not? I won’t be in nearly as much trouble for kissing Robert if I get caught as you will be for
