“Well it would depend on the household, most certainly,” she answered with vigour. “I have heard some horrid tales of women in that position suffering indignities.”
“Indeed,” acknowledged Paul. “A few discreet enquiries prior to accepting anything like that would be prudent.” It was his turn to contemplate matters. “Do you have family?”
She bit her lip. “I do. But there are very difficult circumstances around that relationship. I really do not wish to ever see my aunt and uncle again. They are not dissimilar to hunting dogs. One whiff of my whereabouts…”
“And they’re howling their way along your trail hoping for blood at the end of it?”
“Something like that, yes.” She would say no more, for now.
“Ghastly people,” proclaimed Rosaline. “Just ghastly.”
“Quite,” concurred Harriet.
Paul nodded. But continued to look thoughtful for the rest of the conversation.
Harriet decided it suited him. But then again, she realized that most of his expressions suited him. And consequent upon that thought, came the sudden realization that she had begun to regard Paul DeVoreaux as a very appealing man.
She immediately stifled that thought as best she could and hid her blushes behind a rather confused Hugh, who was surprised by the warm and snuggly cuddle he suddenly received, but appreciated it anyway.
*~~*~~*
Meanwhile, in the metropolis, Letitia and Hecate were admiring themselves in the long mirror placed strategically in the corner of Letitia’s room. They both wore new day dresses, that had been ordered and delivered with astonishing rapidity.
“This is rather nice, Letitia, I will admit.” Hecate swirled the column of skirt falling from the high waist of her new lawn gown. It was a pure blue, with lavender trim, and although of a lighter weight than Hecate was used to, it set off her colouring most admirably.
“It is, isn’t it?” Letitia was carefully affixing her favourite little pearl earrings to her ears. Her gown was also blue, but a darker, richer shade, as befitted a woman her age. The bodice was low, displaying her white skin to advantage, and the white lace edging her neckline framed the little gold cross she always wore. It had been her mother’s.
The simple but elegant ensemble suited her. She’d have disliked too much fussiness and it would have taken away the pleasure she now discovered when viewing her reflection beside her sister’s in the glass. “We are a dazzling pair, are we not?” She grinned at Hecate.
“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” answered her sister. “But at least we’re not easily discovered to be countrified at first glance.”
“And these are only the day dresses. I have to wonder how our evening gowns will look.” Hecate’s voice sounded doubtful. “Forgive my weakness. I don’t know if I want to attend a ball.”
“Me neither,” concurred Letitia. “But when in London…”
“You have no choice,” quipped Hecate.
“Well, you do, but it has to be the right one,” chimed in Kitty, erupting into the room in a flurry of rose silk. “Now do hurry, girls. I cannot wait to show you both off.”
Letitia glanced at Kitty as she reached for her spencer. “You are aware I have to visit my publisher before any other engagements?”
Kitty nodded. “I know. Hecate and I are going to shop for gloves and ribbons while you attend to boring business matters. We’re to meet at eleven for a visit to Aunt Venie’s friend. It’s all arranged, Letitia. Just don’t linger at that publishing place, all right? The carriage will be waiting outside and we’ll be inside. So remember. Eleven sharp.”
Hecate laughed. “You never have to remind Letitia to be prompt. She’s always early.”
“That’s true, love,” said Letitia, tying her bonnet into a smart bow beneath her ear. “But then I have the luxury of pointing out the lateness of everyone else.”
Kitty rolled her eyes. “Yes, I do recall that annoying habit.”
At last Letitia found herself at the door of Lesley and Sons, Publishers, and with the carriage bearing her sisters driving away, she found herself missing Harriet a great deal. It had been an argument to persuade Aunt Venie that a maid was not necessary for a woman of her advanced years, and that the other two would be better served by such companionship.
Grasping the door handle and walking inside took courage, but after entering, Letitia realized it was only a modified shop, with a single desk where the counter should have been. The rest of the interior was lined with books. Many, many books.
Wishing she could linger and thumb through them, she walked to the man sitting behind the desk. “Good day to you, sir. I am Miss Smith.” She recalled her pseudonym just in time. “Mr. Lesley is expecting me.”
The man nodded and rose, walking to a door in the rear of the shop. “This way, if you please, Miss. Mr. Lesley will be with you in a minute or two.”
“Thank you.” She followed him into a smaller room, equally full of books, where several comfortable chairs were arranged in front of an imposing desk. There were at least two inkwells, a small mountain of documents and a cup of tea resting on the well-worn surface.
