She nodded and raised her chin. “I believe it too. Just for a moment there…” She drifted a finger over the tiny blue flowers. “Thank you, Max. This is very kind of you.”
“Not at all,” he smiled, knowing they were getting closer and closer to the moment of decision.
“Isn’t it strange how the scent of something can bring back such vivid memories?”
“Not at all,” he replied. “For me, if I smell oranges I think of Christmas. They were a beloved treat on that day. I can remember the tang of the juice and how my Mama’s hands would have that rich fragrance after she had handled the peel.”
There was a clatter and a bump, and they both reached for the straps.
Once again Kitty leaned forward to look out of the window. The clouds had lifted and a weak sunbeam or two glistened from clean windows and shining gates. They were on the very outskirts of London.
“We’re not on the road back to Mowbray House, are we,” she stated. “This looks quite different.”
“You’re correct. We have come a little more south…” He also leaned forward, looking out his side of the coach. “And I believe we have arrived at our destination. There will be people awaiting us, Kitty.”
He saw her frown as she stared across him to the beautiful little church, nestled amongst oaks that had probably waved their limbs at William the Conqueror.
“Max?”
He held out his hand. “Trust me?”
Uncertain for a few moments, during which he held his breath, she finally took it. “Of course.”
He tried to conceal his sigh of relief, turning to leave the coach and put down the steps so that Kitty could alight with ease. He held her hand until she was on the ground, then tucked it into his arm, noting she still held the bluebells.
Perfect.
The door was open, and Max drew Kitty into the shadows of the church, inhaling the mixture of old wood, incense and reverence that seemed to characterize almost all churches he could recall. Not that he’d been in a lot, but there again…a scent brought back memories of hard pews, trying not to fidget and dozing through many endless sermons.
Today, however, was different. Several local citizens had seated themselves at the back of the church, no doubt drawn by curiosity at the one or two coaches that had stopped in front of their church this morning.
And in the front pew, Max saw his guests had arrived.
Grace and Perry sat together, Grace swathed in her usual veils, Perry looking quite smart in a new beaver hat, styled after the distinctParis Beauwithits slightly conical top and accentuated curvy brim. He made a mental note to remind himself to ask Perry where he’d obtained it.
Then he heard Grace gasp and she came to a standstill beside him. “Max. What’s happening here?” Her eyes were wide.
“There is something we must do, Kitty, in order to pursue our investigations. We cannot continue the way we are.” He urged her forward down the aisle as he spoke. “I wouldn’t ask it if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”
“But here? In a church?” She looked around. “And why are Grace and Perry here?”
A door opened to one side of the altar and a small gentleman stepped through. A cleric, obviously, by virtue of his ceremonial garb. He walked to his assigned position and smiled at them as they stood in the middle of the church.
“Mr. Seton-Mowbray and Miss Ridlington? Please do come forward.” He beckoned. “You have something for me, I believe.”
Max urged a reluctant Kitty to the head of the aisle, and passed the papers to the reverend. “Vicar Granmont?”
“Indeed yes, sir. Give me a moment if you would?” He turned to one side, broke the seal on the largest paper and began to read.
“Max,” hissed Kitty. “What is going on? I insist you tell me.”
Turning to her, he took her hands in his, careful not to crush the bluebells. “All right. The clues we’re following are about to lead us into Society, Kitty. All the way. We need to find a certain woman, Dancey’s current mistress, and she will be attending a ball this evening. The thing is, so will a lot of other people from the highest levels of the Ton, including the Prince Regent.”
“So?” She frowned in puzzlement.
“We need to be there. But I cannot take you as my mistress. You know that.”
“Yes, but…”
He put a finger on her lips. “I can, of course, take you…as mywife.”
