She squeezed Fifi's hand. "No need to apologize. Things were different with me then. For us both."
Oh, they certainly had been! Her father had been alive, the devil take him. Her mother had not yet begun her ranting and ravings. The unpredictability of one parent had ended just as the other's began. Mary's life six years ago had been more quiet with parents who loved her and each other. But her mother and father were dead. Fifi’s father had died too. And both young women lived far from the homes they'd called their childhood abodes. They now lived in the small town of Bath, removed from the joys of fashionable Brighton, the new resort that Prinny favored.
The two of them had become fast friends at Miss Shipley's finishing school fourteen years ago as girls. Here in Bath as single ladies, daughters of earls, they had privileges of precedence and name recognition. What they did not have was much money. Or gentlemen callers. It was an endless circle that Fiona wished to break. If only she could. Her skills at cards—deliciously evil as they were—might help her pay her bills but they did not provide a stable or profitable future. For that, she'd have to find a gaming hell in Bath. That step was a most ambitious one which she had attempted recently to nasty consequences. Happily, no one knew of it. Not even Mary.
"We must not continue to deny ourselves," Mary cut into Fifi's meanderings.
Fifi blinked. "What do you mean?"
Her friend paused, a sly look dawning on her pretty face. "I've been thinking."
Bravo!Fifi clapped her hands. "That's the spirit. The old Mary!"
Mary's butler Thompson halted in the doorway, his eyes rounded upon his mistress. What was wrong with him? She shot a look at her friend. "You've got a plan? Tell me."
"Well..." Mary flinched.
Fifi knew not why except to say that Thompson did appear...appalled!
"It's not a plan. Not like one of my old ones."
"No?" Fifi tipped her head.
Thompson cocked his head.
Mary frowned at him.
He scowled at her.
What was going on between them? Fifi licked her lips, her mouth watering in anticipation of the sweets on Thompson's tray. "Hurry. I'm hungry."
"Thompson, please." Mary indicated with a wave that she wished him to serve and disappear. She rose to gaze out upon the street below as he laid out the cook's treats on the table before the settee.
"Oh, lovely little sweets. Your cook, Mary, is superb. Look at this! Never let her go." Fifi rubbed her hands together. "Or if you must, send her to me. I will dismiss every servant I have to fund her wages. The cakes and—"
"Caesar wants cake."
"Quiet, Caesar!" Mary grew perturbed. "Or no cakes for you at all."
Thompson scowled at his mistress. "My lady?"
Mary knit her brows together. "Yes, Thompson. We are well cared for. And do tell Cook her wares make Lady Fiona giddy with delight."
The man barked in laughter and bowed himself away.
Fifi was more interested in the pastry than whatever the two of them argued over. "Oh, Mary, come. Sit down here and serve me. I am famished. It's been a horrid morning. Good, there now. Hmm, yes, that one. And that. Do not hesitate over any item. I shall enjoy all. Thank you. And now as I relish these lovely things, you will tell me your plan."
Mary pursed her lips, hesitant, speculating. "Well, next week, for three and half days, we are to be in very good company."
Fifi rolled her eyes and groaned the name of her nemesis. "Esme."
"And her parents. Who are delightful hosts. And we will do them proud as good guests."
Fifi nodded, listening, of course, as she bit into the light-as-air layers of Cook'schouxpastry.
"We know that Ivy and Grace will attend." Two of their other former school friends always attended Lord and Lady Courtland's May Day Frolic.
"And Willa?" Fifi managed.
