style="font-size:15px;"> ‘And what about Augusta’s appalling insensitive remarks about your aborted betrothal?’
‘She did not know of it, Mama, I’m sure. She simply asked if I had received any marriage proposals.’
‘I’ll wager she did know of it and was out to be provocative,’ Penelope snorted in muted outrage. ‘Dreadful woman! You might have again burst into tears over it all.’
‘I have not burst into tears over it all for a long while,’ Emily said softly. ‘And I promise I will never do so again. As for Augusta, I think she genuinely knew nothing about it. She lives in the country and the scandal was not so great.’ She paused before reciting, ‘When Tarquin Beaumont gave Viscount Devlin a beating, thereby ruining his sister’s chance of happiness with the Viscount, I imagine it got scant mention in Bath drawing rooms. The gossip in London lasted barely a week, thank heavens.’
‘It was only so soon forgot because that hussy Olivia Davidson ran off with her sister’s husband and set all the cats’ tongues wagging.’
‘And how grateful I was for poor Miss Davidson’s disgrace,’ Emily reminisced wryly. ‘I still feel a little guilty when I see Olivia’s sour face,’ she added.
‘It’s her own fault she’s ostracised by everyone, including her own kin. Silly fool should have known he’d slink home with his tail between his legs and it would all end in tears.’ Penelope flapped a hand. ‘Oh, enough about them! We were talking of your fiasco. I still say you acted too proud and too hasty, Emily. You should have married the Viscount, you know.’
‘Indeed?’ Emily gave a sour little laugh. ‘Nicholas had made it clear by then he regretted an association with our family. I had no intention of binding him to his word and having a husband who might grow to despise me.’
Penelope waved that away, but her further arguments were immediately interrupted.
‘We have been through this before and I refuse to rake it all over again. It is done with.’ The grit in Emily’s tone was at odds with the easy smile she gave her mother. Gracefully she rose from the dining table and went to the window. ‘I am going out early today. Madame Joubert has some fine new silk…’
‘I’ll come too. I need some buttons—’
‘No.’ Emily realised she had declined the offer of her mother’s company far too abruptly. Penelope looked rather taken aback, so she hastened to say, ‘I was going to find something nice for your birthday. It won’t be a surprise if you come too.’
Penelope flushed in pleasure and murmured, ‘Oh, I see…’
Emily felt a little guilty at the excuse, though she had not told a lie. She would call in to the modiste’s on Regent Street and would find her mama something special for her birthday. Nevertheless, her real reason for going early abroad this morning was to keep her rendezvous on Whiting Street with the person who had sent the note. And she had certainly no intention of letting her mother in on that.
Penelope Beaumont could become disproportionately agitated over a trifling upset. If a storm was about to break over Tarquin’s debts, it would be prudent to shield her from the worst of it for as long as possible.
‘Mr Bond is here, ma’am.’ Millie had slipped into the room to announce they had a visitor.
Penelope frowned—it was hardly yet the hour to be receiving callers. She gave her daughter a quizzical look.
‘I expect he has come to apologise for his grandmother’s blunt manner.’ Emily gestured that she had no objection to seeing him.
‘We will receive him in the parlour, Millie,’ Penelope told the young maidservant.
Once in the parlour, and in the company of their diffident guest, Mrs Beaumont proceeded to pour tea while Emily and Mr Bond made polite observations on the vagaries of spring weather. Stephen was handed his cup and saucer and accepted the invitation to sit down whereupon, without preamble, he set about doing his duty.
‘I must apologise for calling on you so early but I wasn’t sure…that is to say…’ His eyes darted between the two ladies as though searching for assistance. He cleared his throat and blurted, ‘I wanted to again thank you for such fine hospitality yesterday and to make sure that you had not…been perturbed by my grandmother’s blunt manner.’
Stephen glanced at Penelope Beaumont. Something in her expression caused him to quickly add, ‘My grandmother does not intend to upset people, but she can be rather too outspoken.’ He took a gulp from his tea, then clattered the cup down to rest.
‘Does she not understand that being too outspoken is likely to upset people?’ Penelope asked stiffly.
Stephen coloured and coughed. ‘I don’t think she does, ma’am. But if you thought any of her remarks offensive I will, of course, unreservedly apologise on her behalf.’
Emily put her tea down on a side table and kindly said, ‘I thought your grandmama was quite a character. I enjoyed meeting her.’ Emily’s smile turned wry as Stephen looked most surprised to hear that. ‘If Mrs Bond is not soon returning to Bath, you must introduce her to Mrs Pearson.’ Emily sent her mother a twinkling look. ‘Do you not think, Mama, that Violet Pearson might benefit from an acquaintance with Stephen’s grandmother?’
Finally that morning Emily had drawn a twitch of amusement from her mother.
‘Do take another cup, Mr Bond,’ Penelope urged amiably and advanced with the pot.
Emily checked the wall clock and stood up. She needed to be on her way if she was to keep her appointment. ‘I’m going out shopping, but do stay and finish tea,’ she added as Stephen leaped to his feet.
‘I’ll gladly give you a ride,’ Stephen volunteered eagerly, raking his fingers through his springy blond curls. ‘Actually I ought to be getting along too. I have an appointment in Holborn.’
‘I accept your kind offer, in that case,’ Emily said.
Despite his noticeably wonky nose, it was not the fellow’s looks that drew Emily’s attention, but his manner. He had the demeanour of a person oblivious to the fact that he was under observation. Back and forth he strutted beneath the brass balls of the pawnbroker’s shop, every so often peering at the passing carts with obvious disappointment. Then, a few yards away, a hackney cab pulled up at the kerb. That sent the fellow darting into the shop doorway, only to reappear a moment later when a stout gentleman alighted from the vehicle and purposefully bowled off up the street.
Emily guessed he had been expecting to catch sight of her before she noticed him. Doubtless he imagined she would arrive at the pawnbroker’s in a vehicle rather than on foot. But Emily had not wanted to be quizzed by Stephen over why she was to be set down in an area so lacking fashionable shops. Instead, she had asked him to deliver her to a salubrious part of town that was within easy striking distance of Whiting Street. Having first declined Stephen’s offer to meet her later to take her home, she had then watched his rig turn the corner before briskly walking east.
It was a fine spring morning, but chilly gusts of wind made her keep her cloak pulled tight about her. She again sent a discreet look across Whiting Street at the fellow she was sure had sent her the note.
Although his burly figure didn’t intimidate her,
