“Always?” Damaris repeated skeptically.
“Always,” the viscountess said with venom. “Did you know Lord Carmichael was nearly betrothed to me before that social-climbing baggage stole my earl out from under me? I have never forgiven her and never shall. Nor will she ever cease lording her triumph over me. Well, I showed her, didn’t I? My husband’s pockets are thrice as deep, and my daughter twice as pretty as hers. And we’ll be the only ones wearing Mme. Blanchet’s masterpieces.”
Sybil and Damaris exchanged a speaking glance.
Lady Vanewright hadn’t said she and her daughter would be first to wear the modiste’s creations, but rather, the only ones to do so. The viscountess was definitely their villainess. All Sybil had to do was find where the frocks were being kept, and the Wynchesters would deal with the rest.
“Delicious tea,” Sybil said in a rush. “I fear I’ve drunk too quickly and now must use the necessary. There’s no need to accompany me. Just tell me which direction down the corridor to find the water closet, and I’ll—”
“Behind the cherry blossom screen.” Lady Vanewright motioned over her shoulder without turning from her tea plate.
Drat.
Sybil had no doubt that if Lady Eunice had asked to use the necessary, the viscountess would have directed her to the finest water closet in the town house. Being the least important of the quartet wasn’t making it easier to leave at all.
And now she had to go stand behind a Chinese folding screen and pretend to use a chamber pot.
She forced herself to rise from the comfortable armchair and risk her shins to the wide expanse of Athena’s Axminster savannah. When she reached the other side of the screen, she stared down balefully. A light coating of dust covered the decorative pot, as if no other guest was ever sent to use it. Beneath the folded panels of the decorative screen was a gap six inches high. More than enough space for a guerrilla kitten to burst through.
Or for those seated at the opposite side of the tea table to notice Sybil’s feet were not in a likely position for someone in urgent need to relieve herself.
Luckily, Lady Vanewright faced the other direction—and was highly unlikely to ever venture on this side of the folding screen. Sybil didn’t need a chamber pot. She needed a plan to get out of this parlor.
“I’ve just remembered, I left my—” She garbled a nonsense word on purpose. “—in the carriage.”
“Your what?” said Lady Vanewright.
Sybil backed away from the folding screen toward the door. “Please don’t worry on my account. I’ll be back in a blink.”
“We employ more footmen than anyone else on this crescent. I can send one of them to—”
“No!” Sybil choked out. She wrenched open the door to the parlor and ran awkwardly from the room.
“If she isn’t the strangest creature,” she could hear Lady Vanewright comment to Damaris and Lady Eunice. “And ungrateful, too. Why, it reminds me of the time…”
Sybil didn’t care what the viscountess had to say about her. As long as Sybil wasn’t stopped or followed, the reconnaissance mission could finally move ahead.
But as soon as she turned the corner, she came face-to-face with a woman at least seven years her junior, wearing a day dress the likes of which Sybil had only seen in French fashion plates…and a decided frown in the middle of her heart-shaped face.
“There you are, you lazy thing,” scolded the young lady, who could only be Miss Heloise Vanewright. “Where is my chocolate? I rang for it five minutes ago. I don’t expect to have risen from bed for nothing.”
Sybil’s neck and cheeks flushed with mortification. Was her lavender muslin really that poor?
“I-I’m not a maid,” she stammered.
Miss Vanewright’s blue eyes widened dramatically. “Then why are you dressed like…” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Is my mother hosting another charity event? I have begged her to stop doing so. I see she hasn’t learned.”
“No, I… She invited me for tea.”
“And you somehow got lost?” Miss Vanewright’s delicate blond eyebrows shot skyward. “Is this your first time in Mayfair lodgings? No, don’t tell me. I can smell it on you.”
Now that was outside of enough. Sybil and her simple day dress might be less fashionable than Miss Vanewright, but every bit as clean.
Although Sybil did not possess a detailed map of the Vanewright residence, she did have a solid understanding of how rooms were organized in similar Mayfair town houses, such as where Lady Eunice lived, or the nearby home belonging to Philippa’s parents, where the reading circle had held their meetings for three years.
Nonetheless, Sybil had no choice but to allow Miss Vanewright to smirkingly direct her back to the tea parlor.
As they reached the door, a frantic-looking maid raced around the opposite corner carrying a wide silver tray laden with cakes and a large pot of chocolate. Her panicked gaze met Sybil’s and they exchanged a look of understanding. Miss Vanewright had no doubt left her bedroom the moment she’d rung for chocolate, just to force this poor maid to come and find her whilst the pot was still hot.
