friend.”
The others looked at
one another; some of them laughed.
Sir Peter’s complexion
resumed its normal color, but the look in his eyes had not changed.
“You had better hope our paths never cross,” he snarled at Jeannie,
and brushed past them all to the side door.
The elegant man clapped
his hands together. “And now, if we do not wish to inhabit dungeons
better left untenanted here, I recommend that door over there that
Sir Peter had shown us. We need merely follow the, ah, the trail of
blue paint. Madam, if you please?”
Jeannie shook her head
and set her lips in a tight line as Edward moved forward with the
others.
“ Come
on, Mrs. McVinnie,” he whispered. “What would Uncle Summers say if
he had to redeem us from Bow Street? I think he might frown on
another expedition.”
It was a masterpiece of
understatement that Jeannie could only say aye to. “Oh, very well,”
she grumbled, and followed him down the narrow dark steps that led,
after much winding about and false starts and stops, to another
little door close by the chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula.
The others had wasted
no time in distancing themselves from the blue elephant. The tulip
who had served as watchdog and Lord Billings already mingled with a
crowd of visitors staring up at the window where Charles I had
probably paced back and forth on the last night of his life. The
other dandies were moving with stately grace, and some speed toward
the gate. Sir Peter was a blue blur in the distance.
“ And
so we should go, too, Edward,” Jeannie said. “Lady Taneystone will
be so worried if we are late.”
The man was still at
her elbow. “Lady Taneystone?” he murmured. “It is possible that we
share acquaintance.”
“ I
doubt it, sir,” Jeannie replied. “The people I know, and care to
know, have rather more on their minds than painting
elephants.”
“ A
fair hit, madam,” he said, sweeping his high-crowned beaver hat off
his head and placing it over his heart. He gazed about him
innocently. “I know what you mean. I don’t believe I ever met
anyone before who dumped blue paint on a dandy.”
Jeannie had the good
grace to blush. “Oh, I am sorry for that. It was a momentary lapse.
I only wish it were not too late to apologize to Sir Peter.” She
returned to her familiar litany. “You must own that you could use
your time more profitably.”
He replaced his hat
upon his head, settling it precisely so. “Madam, I protest! I spend
my waking hours—or, at least, most of them—weeding out mushrooms
and pricking balloons. I assure you it is a laudable occupation.”
He took her hand and kissed it before she could draw away. “And I
say that we shall meet again. Perhaps under more favorable
circumstances?”
“ It is
not a wish of mine,” Jeannie stated frankly.
“ Oh,
we shall see. Your servant, ma’am.”
Another bow, and he was
gone. Jeannie watched him as he crossed Tower Green, his hat tilted
to one side, his cane tucked under his arm, not a hair or thread
out of place. Her speculation turned to surprise as she noticed
several of the crowd about the chopping block pointing after him
and murmuring among themselves.
Jeannie brushed off
Edward’s nankeen trousers and jacket, remonstrating all the while.
“And now, we had better step lively,” she said as she turned him
around for another brushing. “I do not know when your aunt sits
down to her dinner, but I do not think she wants a young man about
who smells …. My goodness, how can we describe it?”
“ Rather like Noah’s ark?” Edward offered helpfully.
Jeannie laughed. “I
only hope that we can sneak you past Wapping and not have to
describe it!”
The ride back to 3
Wendover Square was accomplished in spanking good time. Edward was
silent for most of the trip, poring over his guidebook. He looked
up only once to declare that his next stop must surely be Hampton
Court Palace.
“ Provided we are allowed another expedition,” Jeannie said.
The others looked at
one another; some of them laughed.
Sir Peter’s complexion
resumed its normal color, but the look in his eyes had not changed.
“You had better hope our paths never cross,” he snarled at Jeannie,
and brushed past them all to the side door.
The elegant man clapped
his hands together. “And now, if we do not wish to inhabit dungeons
better left untenanted here, I recommend that door over there that
Sir Peter had shown us. We need merely follow the, ah, the trail of
blue paint. Madam, if you please?”
Jeannie shook her head
and set her lips in a tight line as Edward moved forward with the
others.
“ Come
on, Mrs. McVinnie,” he whispered. “What would Uncle Summers say if
he had to redeem us from Bow Street? I think he might frown on
another expedition.”
It was a masterpiece of
understatement that Jeannie could only say aye to. “Oh, very well,”
she grumbled, and followed him down the narrow dark steps that led,
after much winding about and false starts and stops, to another
little door close by the chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula.
The others had wasted
no time in distancing themselves from the blue elephant. The tulip
who had served as watchdog and Lord Billings already mingled with a
crowd of visitors staring up at the window where Charles I had
probably paced back and forth on the last night of his life. The
other dandies were moving with stately grace, and some speed toward
the gate. Sir Peter was a blue blur in the distance.
“ And
so we should go, too, Edward,” Jeannie said. “Lady Taneystone will
be so worried if we are late.”
The man was still at
her elbow. “Lady Taneystone?” he murmured. “It is possible that we
share acquaintance.”
“ I
doubt it, sir,” Jeannie replied. “The people I know, and care to
know, have rather more on their minds than painting
elephants.”
“ A
fair hit, madam,” he said, sweeping his high-crowned beaver hat off
his head and placing it over his heart. He gazed about him
innocently. “I know what you mean. I don’t believe I ever met
anyone before who dumped blue paint on a dandy.”
Jeannie had the good
grace to blush. “Oh, I am sorry for that. It was a momentary lapse.
I only wish it were not too late to apologize to Sir Peter.” She
returned to her familiar litany. “You must own that you could use
your time more profitably.”
He replaced his hat
upon his head, settling it precisely so. “Madam, I protest! I spend
my waking hours—or, at least, most of them—weeding out mushrooms
and pricking balloons. I assure you it is a laudable occupation.”
He took her hand and kissed it before she could draw away. “And I
say that we shall meet again. Perhaps under more favorable
circumstances?”
“ It is
not a wish of mine,” Jeannie stated frankly.
“ Oh,
we shall see. Your servant, ma’am.”
Another bow, and he was
gone. Jeannie watched him as he crossed Tower Green, his hat tilted
to one side, his cane tucked under his arm, not a hair or thread
out of place. Her speculation turned to surprise as she noticed
several of the crowd about the chopping block pointing after him
and murmuring among themselves.
Jeannie brushed off
Edward’s nankeen trousers and jacket, remonstrating all the while.
“And now, we had better step lively,” she said as she turned him
around for another brushing. “I do not know when your aunt sits
down to her dinner, but I do not think she wants a young man about
who smells …. My goodness, how can we describe it?”
“ Rather like Noah’s ark?” Edward offered helpfully.
Jeannie laughed. “I
only hope that we can sneak you past Wapping and not have to
describe it!”
The ride back to 3
Wendover Square was accomplished in spanking good time. Edward was
silent for most of the trip, poring over his guidebook. He looked
up only once to declare that his next stop must surely be Hampton
Court Palace.
“ Provided we are allowed another expedition,” Jeannie said.
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