Sunshine(the note read),
I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. In lieu, I’ve left you a small memento. I hope you will think of me, as my thoughts will undoubtedly be of you. Until tonight. —A.
Dreamily, Rosie pressed the letter to her bosom. Andrew made her feel like the most special lady in all the world. She picked up the blue velvet box, wondering what he’d gotten her this time. She smiled to herself. Thus far, his unconventional gifts had included gingerbread and a pistol; what would he surprise her with now?
She lifted the lid—and her breath lodged in her throat.Goodness.
The necklace was the most exquisite she’d ever seen. Cast in white gold, it took the shape of flowing vines and delicate leaves, all of it encrusted with brilliant diamonds. The centerpiece was a cluster of blooming flowers, their shape unmistakably those of primroses. Three large diamonds, over a carat each, were suspended from the blossoms like sparkling dewdrops.
When her lover had a mind to give a gift, hetrulygave a gift. She ran a fingertip over the stunning piece; she couldn’t wait for her period of mourning to be over so that she could wear it.
As much as she wanted to stay in bed and gawk over the necklace, she had a busy day ahead of her. She glanced at the bedside clock—and gave a little shriek. Heavens, she only hadtwo hoursto get ready for the meeting with Lady Charlotte! She hurtled out of bed, ringing for Odette.
Thanks to her maid’s efficiency, she was suitably groomed by the time Emma came to pick her up. Her hair was parted in the middle, curls upswept, a few left to frame her face. She’d worn a stylish black taffeta with a V-shaped neckline, leg-o’-mutton sleeves, and full skirts.
Rosie and her entourage soon arrived at the dowager’s house, a modest abode on the fringes of Mayfair. She waited patiently as her sisters negotiated with their husbands. The men wanted to escort them inside; the ladies said a male presence would hamper the interview (Rosie had to agree). Finally, after whispered back-and-forth negotiations, the men agreed to wait outside on one condition: if their wives didn’t emerge in an hour, they would personally go in andcarrythem out.
“Let’s hurry,” Emma muttered, casting a backward glance at her large spouse, who stood next to the carriage with his arms crossed, his pale green gaze tracking her every move. “I wouldn’t put it past His Grace to carry out his troglodytic threat.”
Her sisters looked back attheirlooming husbands, and all of them hastened to the front door.
Once inside, they were ushered by an ancient butler into a sitting room. The space was dated, the dark and faded brocade fashionable several decades ago. Flanked by the Misses Fossey, the dowager countess came over to greet them. In the background, Mrs. James rose but kept her distance.
Introductions and greetings were exchanged.
“Please make yourselves comfortable.” The dowager waved them toward the seating area. “And do call me Charlotte: we are family after all. Indeed, the girls and I had planned to call upon you, Lady Daltry,”—she cast a flustered glance at Rosie—“but we did not wish to intrude upon your privacy.”
Looking into Lady Charlotte’s plump, pleasant features, framed by silver curls and a lace cap, Rosie could not imagine that this mother hen would want to harm her.
So she smiled and said, “You are welcome to visit any time, Lady Charlotte. And please call me Rosie.”
“Rosie, then.” Clearly relieved, Lady Charlotte smiled back at her.
“It is a pleasure to see you again,” Miss Sybil ventured shyly from beside her aunt.
“And you as well,” Rosie said warmly.
Sybil flushed to the roots of her dull blonde hair. Rosie thought the girl could be pretty if she chose more flattering clothes (the loose-fitting grey gown did nothing for the other’s figure) and a more stylish coiffure than the scraped-back topknot. As Rosie was wondering how she might subtly dispense some fashion advice, Sybil’s younger sister pushed forward.
“May I say how much I adore your ensemble, Rosie?” Miss Eloisa gushed. “Your widow’s weeds put the most fashionable gowns to shame. The work of Madame Rousseau, I believe?”
“Why, yes, it is.” Although Rosie was surprised by the turnabout in Miss Eloisa’s manner, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Madame is a favorite of mine as well.” Eloisa linked arms with her, drawing her toward the sitting area. “You must sit by me for I’m certain we havesomuch in common to discuss.”
The countess and Miss Sybil followed behind, as did Emma and the clan.
When everyone was settled and tea had been poured, Mrs. James spoke up.
“As charming as this is,” she said—truly, she’d be an attractive woman if not for her sneer, as unsightly as a mustache would be on her face—“I’d prefer we get to the point. Why was I summoned here today?”
“Now, Antonia, you were notsummoned,” Lady Charlotte said hastily. “The duchess merely wrote that she hoped to meet with all the ladies in our family during her visit today.”
“I don’t have your appetite for niceties,” Mrs. James retorted. “I call a spade a spade.”
“I, too, prefer directness,” Emma said. “The truth is, we are here on an urgent matter.”
“Oh?” Lady Charlotte’s forehead pleated beneath her frilly lace cap.
