“So a polite no on that one as well, I would imagine?”
“Let me think about it. Beatrice is one of the people behind it, apparently, so I’ll consider it.”
She opened the second to last note. “Oh, this sounds more like it. Mrs. Ardmore is co-hosting a talk by one of the academics from Arcvale university, a history professor, on some of the items they discovered during excavations around the Forge. I’ll wager that’s going to be interesting.”
She sighed. “Right then, last note.” Tearing open the envelope, she removed one sheet of paper and unfolded it. Then she stilled. “Ah, from Mrs Monroe.” Re-reading the note,she swallowed and for a brief moment stood silent, her mind spinning rapidly.
“I’ll take care of this one, Sprocket. Tabby has some questions for me about a charity.” She refolded the note and tucked it away in her pocket.
“I see. Mrs Monroe is very helpful, my Lady, if you’ll excuse the personal comment. Lady Beatrice too.”
“You’re absolutely right. Anyway, I’m depending on you to keep all this straight for me and make sure you remind me the day before the art thing, Sprocket. I have things going on at the moment that are somewhat distracting.”
“I can only imagine, my Lady. He isquitea distraction.”
“What?” Verity prayed she wasn’t blushing. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh...nothing. Nothing at all.” The airy comment floated in silence.
“Sprocket?”
“My Lady?”
Verity rolled her eyes. “Oh never mind. Just make sure these are dealt with, if you would?” She passed the envelopes to her tickerkin, just as the knocker on her front door banged loudly. “I’ll get that, since I’m heading that way.”
Outside, a young and smartly dressed messenger stood, politely holding out a sealed envelope. “For Lady Verity Turner-Yardley,” he bowed, presenting her with the paper. After she accepted it, he turned and left, without another word.
“Hmm. Odd,” muttered Verity.
But then she opened the envelope, and a chill ran down her spine. It was a polite request for her to join her friends at Pembroke Hill, ‘to discuss a matter of great interest.’
Something had happened.
Overnight, something had changed. Alastair wouldn’t have risked an open message like this, were it not important.
She took a breath. “Sprocket, I must be on my way. I doubt I’ll be back in time for lunch, so if anyone should call or ask for me, tell them...um....tell them...”
“I shall tell them that you are unavailable at this time, and that if they leave their cards, you will contact them soon.”
“Bless you, dearest Sprocket.” Verity gathered her reticule, glanced inside to make sure she had everything she might need, and then walked to the door, taking her bonnet off the stand beside it. “I don’t know when I’ll return, so don’t fuss about meals.”
At the mention of meals, her mind darted back to last night’s meal...and other things. Her heart missed a beat as she realised who might well be joining her at Pembroke Hill.
“Sprocket, would you fetch my cologne?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
Verity put down her reticule and turned to the mirror on the wall, settling her bonnet securely on the soft curls she’d pinned up this morning.
“Here we are, my Lady.”
“Thank you.” She held her finger over the top, tipped the bottle and then dabbed the liquid behind her ears. The air around her absorbed the fragrance...lily of the valley.
Chapter Thirteen
Alastair Pembroke paced the beautiful carpet in his well-appointed study, while he waited for his guests to arrive.
“You’ll wear a path in that, if you don’t sit down for a bit.” Silas Ashcombe relaxed in one of the large leather easy chairs.
