“If you do not mind, would you tell your story again, Miss Brown.”
With a teacup in her hand, she did as Mr. Sinclair directed.
Why did her locket have French words on it? It made absolutely no sense.
“We will be in touch when we have something to tell you,” Mr. Sinclair said when there was nothing further to say.
Dimity left the building and walked slowly down the lane thinking about what Mr. Sinclair had told her.Who am I?Fingering the locket, she wondered who had given it to her.
“Will I ever know the truth?”
Chapter Nineteen
Dimity walked, letting thoughts come and go until her stomach rumbled. Only then did she realize how far she’d wandered. The houses were not as big here, and lived in by doctors, lawyers, and businessmen.
She saw a small, square white sign up ahead on the railings. Blight’s Tea Shop. Her stomach rumbled loudly. Too nervous to eat her morning meal, she’d gone all day without food. Deciding she could just as easily think while eating as walking, she entered the shop.
Making her way to the rear, she smiled to the other patrons as she found a small table that would allow her some privacy.
“Miss Brown!”
Dimity sighed as Mr. Diard approached her table. She did not have a problem with the artist, however, she wanted to be alone today to work through her thoughts.
“What has you here today?”
“I was visiting friends,” Dimity lied. She had no wish to tell anyone what she’d been doing. “What has you here, sir?”
“I live but a few miles away and the food is excellent.”
As usual he was dressed elegantly, if a little flamboyantly. Mr. Diard’s coats were always embroidered and his waistcoats colorful. An image of red satin flashed into her head.
Damn that man. Why can I not rid my head of him?
“May I join you, Miss Brown?”
“Dimity,” she said again, as she had many times before. “And yes, of course.”
“I’m afraid I cannot stay long, as I have an appointment for my next commission,” he said, pulling out a chair. “But I saw you entering the teashop and could not leave without speaking with you.”
She could no longer deny the look in his eyes. He’d shown in many small ways that he was interested in pursuing her. Did she feel the same? Would she be happy to leave England and return to France with Mr. Diard, if it came to that?
She studied him as he chatted about his work and the progress of the duchess’s portrait.
“Will you come to the theater with me, Dimity?”
“Oh… well, I’m unsure I can, as the duchess’s—”
“Was the one who told me to ask you,” he interrupted.
“Really? Well in that case, I would love to go to the theater with you.”
He rested his hand on the top of hers.
“You must know by now I am enamored by you, cherie.”
Color flooded her cheeks. Dimity had never had a man speak to her this way before.
“Your blush only enhances your beauty.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, and Dimity desperately wanted to feel something.
