Cold crept into my limbs despite the gentle warmth of the shop. “And those other girls? Did they also vanish?”
Mme Delacroix hesitated. “Girls move on, Lady Rosalynd. One grows tired of asking where they went.” Her voice had grown soft and weary.
Chrissie’s laughter drifted from the fitting platform as she admired herself in a mirror. The seamstress pinned andrepinned with rapid, efficient motions. To anyone passing on the street, we were nothing more than a pleasant scene—ladies, fabric, fashion.
But beneath it, something dark coiled.
“Thank you,” I said. “You have been very helpful.”
Mme Delacroix inclined her head. “I hope Miss Brent has found something better. That is what I tell myself when I think of her.”
I could not muster that same comfort.
When Chrissie and I climbed back into our carriage, she bubbled with delight over the fabrics and frills.
“The celadon shade will suit me, do you not think?” she asked.
“I do,” I said, distracted.
Chrissie leaned back against the squabs with a satisfied sigh. “You were very quiet in there.”
“I was listening.”
“To Mme Delacroix talk about Alice Brent.” She tilted her head. “You had that look. The one you wear when a mystery is hatching behind your eyes.”
I smiled, though it felt thin. “You imagine things.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps I know you very well.”
As the carriage rattled back toward Grosvenor Square, she closed her eyes. Weston sat opposite, gaze fixed politely on the floor, a solid reminder of the promise I had made to Steele.
I had taken a footman. I had gone to a respectable shop in full daylight. I had done nothing any other lady of my station might not do. He couldn’t possibly find fault.
I smoothed my gloved hands over my skirts and thought of Alice Brent leaving Mme Delacroix with her work neatly folded. I thought of Mrs. Kincaid and Riversgate House in Chelsea. I thought of girls who climbed into carriages for positions that never existed.
Honora’s time was slipping away, and so was theirs. Action could not wait for permission.
I would need to find Riversgate.
The carriage could take me to Chelsea so I could find the place. Weston, of course, would accompany me. I would pretend I meant to call on some innocuous acquaintance, should anyone ask. But I couldn’t run off willy-nilly. I had to return Chrissie home first and dash off a note to Steele before I could search out this house.
Unfortunately, my plan was derailed after I arrived home.
Chapter
Fifteen
A Grandmother’s Concern
Iwas just finishing the note to Steele before heading out again when someone entered the morning room. Intent on choosing my words with care, I did not glance up at once.
“You are investigating,” a voice observed from the doorway.
I closed my eyes for a brief instant. Claire.
Cosmos had invited her to luncheon, after which they intended to visit Kew Gardens. One of his rare specimens had bloomed at last, and he was keen to display it to an appreciative audience. Claire, I suspected, was rather less interested in the flower than in the gentleman presenting it.
“I am not,” I said evenly, adding the final line of my note and blotting the page with perhaps more force than strictly necessary.
