inspired jealousy in the finest Roman wives.
“Come, come, Lady Emily,” she said, motioning me towards her. As I approached, she sat halfway up and kissed me on each cheek, then returned to her elegant reclining pose. “Do you approve of my Ptolemaic fashion? Roman, of course, if one is going to be proper, but it’s what Cleopatra would have worn.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“But you wouldn’t have the courage to wear it.”
“Not outside a fancy dress party,” I said, taking a seat in a low, gilded chair before I noticed we were not alone in the room. Reginald Foster, resplendent in a perfectly tailored jacket, was standing on his tiptoes to greet me. “Mr. Foster! Forgive me, I didn’t see you.”
“No apology necessary. Who could focus on anything beyond the beauty in front of us?”
“You appear to be in the wrong room, Mr. Foster,” I said. “Lady Glover, do you have a designated space for medieval courtly love?”
“What an idea!” She pushed up one elbow and rested her chin on her hand. “I should redo the entire house, making each room reflect a different historical period.”
“Just don’t have a Waterloo room,” Mr. Foster said, masterfully dividing his glances equally between us two ladies. “Apsley House should have the exclusive rights to that. The Duke of Wellington deserves nothing less.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “But I am going to have a room whose walls are covered in red paint.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Mr. Foster said. “The perpetrator is wreaking havoc on society.”
“Which is just what society deserves,” she said. “Come now, Reggie, you cannot claim you don’t agree with me. We’ve discussed this too many times.”
“I do appreciate how passionately you feel about the subject, Valerie, but there must be limits,” he said, his voice softer than it had been. “You know that perfectly well. We can’t have the public acting as vigilantes. It would lead to no end of trouble.”
“You’re lucky you’re not my husband, Reggie,” she said. “I’d force you to openly support my positions.”
Their easy familiarity with each other took me aback. I couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or shocked that a man with Mr. Foster’s political aspirations could openly associate with a woman of Lady Glover’s reputation.
Without pausing or giving the slightest reaction to her comment, Mr. Foster changed the subject. “You told me Lady Emily is aware of the correspondence you received regarding the matter at hand?”
“Lady Emily was the first person in whom I confided. Proximity to her husband is nearly the same as being an agent for the Crown, you know.”
“I’ve been trying—with no success—to convince Lady Glover to tell me what she sent this madman in reply,” Mr. Foster said. His voice had lost the intimate tone that had crept in earlier, and he sounded more like a politician again.
“I wouldn’t count on getting her to crack,” I said. “You’ll have to satisfy yourself with the content of the note she received.”
“And the yellow sealing wax,” Mr. Foster said. “One doesn’t see that often.”
“You were here when Lady Glover opened the note?” I asked.
“No, no, I only just read it before you arrived,” he said.
“Our man was clever to leave no clue to his identity,” Lady Glover said.
“Or so it would seem. I wonder his motivation is for sending it at all? What can he hope to gain?” I asked. “May I read it again, Lady Glover?” She handed it to me and I analyzed every inch of the page. There was an oily stain where the wax had once been, but no trace of it remained.
“I think it may be your friend, Mr. Barnes, who is reaching out to me,” Lady Glover said, leaning closer to Mr. Foster. “He’s an outsider, as am I, and might rightly suspect I’d lend a sympathetic ear to his plight.”
“That, my dear, may be the silliest thing you’ve ever suggested,” Mr. Foster said. “Simon
“Come, come, Lady Emily,” she said, motioning me towards her. As I approached, she sat halfway up and kissed me on each cheek, then returned to her elegant reclining pose. “Do you approve of my Ptolemaic fashion? Roman, of course, if one is going to be proper, but it’s what Cleopatra would have worn.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“But you wouldn’t have the courage to wear it.”
“Not outside a fancy dress party,” I said, taking a seat in a low, gilded chair before I noticed we were not alone in the room. Reginald Foster, resplendent in a perfectly tailored jacket, was standing on his tiptoes to greet me. “Mr. Foster! Forgive me, I didn’t see you.”
“No apology necessary. Who could focus on anything beyond the beauty in front of us?”
“You appear to be in the wrong room, Mr. Foster,” I said. “Lady Glover, do you have a designated space for medieval courtly love?”
“What an idea!” She pushed up one elbow and rested her chin on her hand. “I should redo the entire house, making each room reflect a different historical period.”
“Just don’t have a Waterloo room,” Mr. Foster said, masterfully dividing his glances equally between us two ladies. “Apsley House should have the exclusive rights to that. The Duke of Wellington deserves nothing less.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “But I am going to have a room whose walls are covered in red paint.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Mr. Foster said. “The perpetrator is wreaking havoc on society.”
“Which is just what society deserves,” she said. “Come now, Reggie, you cannot claim you don’t agree with me. We’ve discussed this too many times.”
“I do appreciate how passionately you feel about the subject, Valerie, but there must be limits,” he said, his voice softer than it had been. “You know that perfectly well. We can’t have the public acting as vigilantes. It would lead to no end of trouble.”
“You’re lucky you’re not my husband, Reggie,” she said. “I’d force you to openly support my positions.”
Their easy familiarity with each other took me aback. I couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or shocked that a man with Mr. Foster’s political aspirations could openly associate with a woman of Lady Glover’s reputation.
Without pausing or giving the slightest reaction to her comment, Mr. Foster changed the subject. “You told me Lady Emily is aware of the correspondence you received regarding the matter at hand?”
“Lady Emily was the first person in whom I confided. Proximity to her husband is nearly the same as being an agent for the Crown, you know.”
“I’ve been trying—with no success—to convince Lady Glover to tell me what she sent this madman in reply,” Mr. Foster said. His voice had lost the intimate tone that had crept in earlier, and he sounded more like a politician again.
“I wouldn’t count on getting her to crack,” I said. “You’ll have to satisfy yourself with the content of the note she received.”
“And the yellow sealing wax,” Mr. Foster said. “One doesn’t see that often.”
“You were here when Lady Glover opened the note?” I asked.
“No, no, I only just read it before you arrived,” he said.
“Our man was clever to leave no clue to his identity,” Lady Glover said.
“Or so it would seem. I wonder his motivation is for sending it at all? What can he hope to gain?” I asked. “May I read it again, Lady Glover?” She handed it to me and I analyzed every inch of the page. There was an oily stain where the wax had once been, but no trace of it remained.
“I think it may be your friend, Mr. Barnes, who is reaching out to me,” Lady Glover said, leaning closer to Mr. Foster. “He’s an outsider, as am I, and might rightly suspect I’d lend a sympathetic ear to his plight.”
“That, my dear, may be the silliest thing you’ve ever suggested,” Mr. Foster said. “Simon
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