Devonshire Scream by Laura Childs Page B

overheard him misquote a famous line. Of course I couldn’t help myself, I had to correct him. And that was that. We started conversing and he bought me a cognac. Despite the fact that he’d botched one of my favorite lines, I found him to be a charming and learned man. Since he’d already settled here in Charleston, one thing led to another, and now he’s on our board of directors.” Timothy’s gaze shifted to Drayton. “You seconded his nomination.”
    â€œI did,” Drayton said, looking almost miserable.
    Theodosia decided to step in. “Despite all this good-old-boy camaraderie, I still think it’s critical we keep an eye on Rinicker.”
    Timothy mulled this over for a few moments. “I suppose I could go along with that. We
watch
the man, but we do not move against him in any way. We are respectful of him. Agreed?”
    â€œYes, of course,” Drayton said. “You know I’m just sick about this.”
    Timothy gazed at Theodosia. “Agreed, Theodosia?”
    â€œSure.” Theodosia wasn’t sick about the situation. Just extremely wary.
    Timothy picked up a small bronze bust of Thomas Jefferson and creaked back in his chair. “My goodness, I find this hard to believe. Why, Lionel is even dating one of our rather prominent citizens.”
    â€œWho would that be?” Theodosia asked.
    â€œGrace Dawson,” Timothy said. “You probably know her. She’s that peppy little blond-haired lady who lives in the old Burwick-Howell mansion on Tradd Street. You see her out walking sometimes with those two magnificent Doberman pinschers.”
    â€œSultan and Satin,” Drayton said. “Yes, they’re beautiful dogs.”
    â€œThey’re dating?” Theodosia asked. Then she quickly waved a hand in front of her face as if to erase her words. “Wait, I didn’t mean the Dobermans.”
    â€œI understand what you mean,” Timothy said. “And, yes, the two of them
are
seeing each other. Keeping company, or whatever you choose to call it.”
    Theodosia smiled to herself. She’d call it dating, yes. Haley would call it friends with benefits. As for the dogs, Earl Grey and the Dobermans hadn’t officially met yet. But she suspected it might be time to remedy that.
    â€œSo you’ve told the FBI about our upcoming show?” Timothy said. “About our Fabergé egg?”
    â€œThey’re well aware of it,” Theodosia said.
    Timothy seemed to make up his mind then. He put Mr. Jefferson’s likeness down and said, “I’ll hire more guards for Saturday night. And do you have a phone number for that agent you mentioned? Ziskie, was it? I’d like to speak with him.”
    â€œAgent Zimmer,” Theodosia said. She removed Zimmer’s card from her pocketbook and copied down the information for Timothy. But she kept the card.
    If she truly intended to help Brooke find some answers, Agent Zimmer just might come in handy.

10

    Earl Grey lounged in front of the fireplace, looking lazy and content, as Theodosia bustled about the kitchen fixing dinner. Theodosia sometimes wondered who appreciated their harmonious evening routine the most. And judging by the peaceful, almost beatific look on her dear dog’s face, she suspected it was him.
    On warmer evenings, she’d have carried her plate out to the small patio in the backyard where decades of ivy crawled up a redbrick wall and a small fountain pattered away. It was a lovely Charleston pocket garden, green and lush, tangled rather than manicured. But tonight was way too cool and the fire much too inviting.
    Theodosia moved briskly about the kitchen, dancing to Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten.” Tonight was going to be salad night. She chopped and diced grape tomatoes, shallots, and parsley, then tossed everything into a bowl of bulgur wheat. She whipped some olive oil and red vinegartogether and then poured it