Her sister-in-law rolled her eyes, making Harriet laugh. “I’m the provincial Mama, remember? I live vicariously through others. Did you see James, for example?”
“I did. We met at a ball in Cavendish Square.”
“Well that sounds most stylish.”
“It was,” nodded Letitia. “Everyone seemed quite charming and intent upon enjoying themselves.” She leaned back. “The ballroom…well, it was huge, of course. That goes without saying. The amount of gold and crystal would have made a Sultan’s palace look shabby, I swear. And the food looked divine…”
“Did you dance?” Harriet had to ask.
“I did. With one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.”
“Oooh.” Tabby drew near. “Do tell.”
“His name was…let me see…Max. Max Seton-Mowbray. His parents were holding the ball. And oh my goodness, he was a feast for the eyes. Very tall, well built as near as I could judge, and with eyes the blue of a stormy sea. And polite too, not to mention quite quick-witted. I actually think he enjoyed our waltz.”
“Well, my dear girl, if Max Seton-Mowbray enjoyed a waltz with you, then you’re set for life. He’s one of the richest and most eligible bachelors in London at the moment. So many women have set their caps for him, I’m told, but he’s avoided them all.”
Harriet remained silent during this interchange, and Letitia recalled the connection. Time to change the subject. “James seemed well.”
“Is he returning soon?” asked Tabby.
“I’m not sure—I believe his plans were uncertain at the time. But he did promise to let us know when he comes back.”
“It will be nice to see him back. Paul has been looking after FitzArden Hall while he was away.” Rosaline smiled. “I like having a brother again. Even now I’m not quite used to it.”
“He is very charming, Lady Rosaline,” smiled Harriet. “And also very kind.” She went on to tell the ladies about her entertaining drive home in the back of the wagon, perched on a sheepskin pillow. “It was most thoughtful of him.”
Letitia’s eyes narrowed. “Did you happen to see the name of the ale in those barrels?”
Harriet thought for a moment. “Yes. It was Chillendale ale.”
“Uh oh.” Tabby blinked. “Simon is going to be beside himself.”
“Edmund too.”
“Hmm.” Letitia chuckled. “Looks like the gentlemen have bought themselves an early Christmas present.”
*~~*~~*
Harriet had to wait another hour before she could confront Letitia alone in her bedchamber. And even then, the conversation didn’t begin the way she had anticipated.
“Harriet, I’m so sorry,” apologized Letitia.
“For what?” At a loss, Harriet stared at her.
“For bringing up Seton-Mowbray. I knew the name sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until I’d already mentioned him that I recalled why.”
“’Tis no matter,” Harriet brushed the apologies aside. “And I will agree with your assessment. The man is indeed of averyhandsome appearance.”
There was a short silence while both women recalled Mr. Max Seton-Mowbray with a certain degree of reverence.
Then Harriet got down to business. “Now. We’re quite alone. Please, dear Letitia, spare me the pain of waiting a moment longer. Why do you need not one, but two, silk nightrails?”
“Because I thought they might be rather nice to sleep in?” Letitia continued brushing her hair in front of her vanity table, with apparent unconcern.
“Nonsense,” retorted Harriet. “You could have learned that any time over the past years.”
“True,” said Letitia.
