will be much help,” Emily whispered back. “You’ll have better luck with your duke, whoever he may be!”
Priscilla brightened, but her smile lasted only long enough for her mother to return to the sitting room. Trailing behind Mrs. Tate and simpering obsequiously were Acantha Dalrymple and her mother.
Mrs. Dalrymple looked nothing like her daughter. Where Acantha was narrow and dark, as if even her physical nature were stingy, Mrs. Dalrymple was the epitome of overblown satisfaction. Her ample girth was encased in a stylish cambric gown of pale yellow. Her bonnet groaned under the weight of peacock feathers, silk sunflowers, and green satin ribbon. With her short quilted jacket of a deeper yellow, she resembled nothing so much as an overripe melon.
Though Mr. Dalrymple’s father had made his fortune in trade and the family had only recently joined the ranks of the Beau Monde, Mrs. Tate acted as if royalty had come to call. She fluttered about, fingers darting from the soft pleats of her blue day dress to the dark curls beside her slender face. To Emily, who’d visited often over the years, Priscilla’s mother had always seemed rather bemused that she’d birthed someone as breathtaking as Priscilla. Now she couldn’t seem to believe she’d been visited by people as impressive as the Dalrymples.
Mrs. Dalrymple seated herself on the flowered settee beside Priscilla’s mother, leaving Acantha to take up a spindle-backed chair next to Priscilla and Emily. Her gown was a wondrous creation of fine blue cambric and silk lace, with a ruffled skirt and graceful sleeves that danced when she moved her gloved hands. It would have been a lovely dress, on a more lovely creature. Emily thought she heard Priscilla sigh in envy as she gazed on the paisley shawl that draped Acantha’s bony shoulders. Acantha merely smiled beatifically.
“And are you enjoying your Season, Miss Dalrymple?” Priscilla’s mother asked after they were all settled.
Acantha dropped her gaze demurely. “Oh, a very great deal, Mrs. Tate. Everyone has been so kind, so gracious.”
“I declare our sitting room is never void of callers,” Mrs. Dalrymple said with a proud smile at her daughter.
Acantha shot Priscilla and Emily a look. “Yes, even Lord Robert Townsend. We met when he was at Barnsley, and now he calls most every day.”
Emily stiffened. How dare Acantha imply that Emily’s fiancé was more fascinated with her ! Not that Emily was in any way enamored with Lord Robert. But still!
Priscilla must have been of the same mind, for she winked at Emily. “Oh, how delightful,” she told Acantha. “I’m certain the two of you get on famously.”
Acantha blinked as if she had not expected so enthusiastic a response. Then she stroked her lovely shawl, and Priscilla’s gaze followed each movement.
“Indeed we do,” Acantha said. “Such a fine gentleman. He has the very best taste, in clothing, in furnishings. He was most admiring of my pearls.”
Of course he had been! He’d very likely stolen them from under that smug little smile.
As the two mothers turned to discussing the latest news of the war, Priscilla smiled at Acantha. “Such a shame you lost your pearls,” Priscilla said, just loud enough that the mother’s couldn’t hear.
Acantha’s expression was nearly as poisoned. “But I didn’t lose them. I found them later, in the drawer of my dressing table.”
Now Emily blinked. “What?”
As Priscilla frowned, Acantha nodded. “It’s true. It seems I’d only misplaced them.”
But if the pearls weren’t missing, then Lord Robert could not be a jewel thief. Oh, why had she thought they’d uncovered his secret?! He was obviously far more cunning than they’d guessed. So, if not the pearls, then what?
“It seems you’ve been quite fortunate,” Priscilla said to Acantha, but each word was bitten off as if she didn’t appreciate being in a position to praise the creature for anything.
Acantha fluffed at the
Priscilla brightened, but her smile lasted only long enough for her mother to return to the sitting room. Trailing behind Mrs. Tate and simpering obsequiously were Acantha Dalrymple and her mother.
Mrs. Dalrymple looked nothing like her daughter. Where Acantha was narrow and dark, as if even her physical nature were stingy, Mrs. Dalrymple was the epitome of overblown satisfaction. Her ample girth was encased in a stylish cambric gown of pale yellow. Her bonnet groaned under the weight of peacock feathers, silk sunflowers, and green satin ribbon. With her short quilted jacket of a deeper yellow, she resembled nothing so much as an overripe melon.
Though Mr. Dalrymple’s father had made his fortune in trade and the family had only recently joined the ranks of the Beau Monde, Mrs. Tate acted as if royalty had come to call. She fluttered about, fingers darting from the soft pleats of her blue day dress to the dark curls beside her slender face. To Emily, who’d visited often over the years, Priscilla’s mother had always seemed rather bemused that she’d birthed someone as breathtaking as Priscilla. Now she couldn’t seem to believe she’d been visited by people as impressive as the Dalrymples.
Mrs. Dalrymple seated herself on the flowered settee beside Priscilla’s mother, leaving Acantha to take up a spindle-backed chair next to Priscilla and Emily. Her gown was a wondrous creation of fine blue cambric and silk lace, with a ruffled skirt and graceful sleeves that danced when she moved her gloved hands. It would have been a lovely dress, on a more lovely creature. Emily thought she heard Priscilla sigh in envy as she gazed on the paisley shawl that draped Acantha’s bony shoulders. Acantha merely smiled beatifically.
“And are you enjoying your Season, Miss Dalrymple?” Priscilla’s mother asked after they were all settled.
Acantha dropped her gaze demurely. “Oh, a very great deal, Mrs. Tate. Everyone has been so kind, so gracious.”
“I declare our sitting room is never void of callers,” Mrs. Dalrymple said with a proud smile at her daughter.
Acantha shot Priscilla and Emily a look. “Yes, even Lord Robert Townsend. We met when he was at Barnsley, and now he calls most every day.”
Emily stiffened. How dare Acantha imply that Emily’s fiancé was more fascinated with her ! Not that Emily was in any way enamored with Lord Robert. But still!
Priscilla must have been of the same mind, for she winked at Emily. “Oh, how delightful,” she told Acantha. “I’m certain the two of you get on famously.”
Acantha blinked as if she had not expected so enthusiastic a response. Then she stroked her lovely shawl, and Priscilla’s gaze followed each movement.
“Indeed we do,” Acantha said. “Such a fine gentleman. He has the very best taste, in clothing, in furnishings. He was most admiring of my pearls.”
Of course he had been! He’d very likely stolen them from under that smug little smile.
As the two mothers turned to discussing the latest news of the war, Priscilla smiled at Acantha. “Such a shame you lost your pearls,” Priscilla said, just loud enough that the mother’s couldn’t hear.
Acantha’s expression was nearly as poisoned. “But I didn’t lose them. I found them later, in the drawer of my dressing table.”
Now Emily blinked. “What?”
As Priscilla frowned, Acantha nodded. “It’s true. It seems I’d only misplaced them.”
But if the pearls weren’t missing, then Lord Robert could not be a jewel thief. Oh, why had she thought they’d uncovered his secret?! He was obviously far more cunning than they’d guessed. So, if not the pearls, then what?
“It seems you’ve been quite fortunate,” Priscilla said to Acantha, but each word was bitten off as if she didn’t appreciate being in a position to praise the creature for anything.
Acantha fluffed at the
Similar Books
