Another voice was echoing in his ears—Tio Glendenning’s easy drawl. “… If ever I heard of so wretched a homecoming!”
The footman supporting Captain Rossiter’s wavering figure glanced up. “What’d he say?”
Sir Mark’s valet answered, “Something about ‘tea’ being very right.”
The footman grunted. “Well, we all knows that, don’t we!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“’Tis very kind of Miss Falcon,” agreed Naomi, making her way along the crowded aisle of the Bloomsbury Bazaar. “But I’ve a notion she intended to wear that particular shawl herself. Besides, I really would like one trimmed with swansdown to match my gown.”
Maggie, following in the wake of her employer, said repentantly, “I be that sorry, milady. How I come to not pack it I cannot think.”
“Oh, pish. We left in such a scramble ’twas no more your fault than mine own. Ah! See—on that table over there; the zephyr gauze! It looks to be just the pale pink of the embroidery on the underskirt, and can we but find an ell or two of white swansdown ’twill look divinely.”
Maggie, slightly nearsighted, peered uncertainly. “Oh, does you mean by the crippled lady?”
“Hush! She’ll hear you!” Naomi slipped through the throng in the popular bazaar. The young lady Maggie had referred to was inspecting an ell of fine lace, and Naomi waited politely for a chance to reach the gauze.
Leaning on a walking cane, the crippled girl moved awkwardly, collided with Naomi, and glanced up, smiling in shy apology. She was not a beauty, but the fine-boned face with its high forehead and generous mouth had a rare sweetness of expression, and her short powdered ringlets were charmingly arranged under the dainty laced cap. She gave a gasp and her blue eyes lit up. “Naomi!”
One mittened hand went out instinctively, then was withdrawn. Blushing, she stammered in confusion, “Oh! Your pardon. I should not—”
“Gwen…? Is it—Gwendolyn?”
“Yes. But I should not have spoken. Pray—”
Her attempt to escape was hampered by her necessarily slow movements, and she was swept into a warm embrace and a kiss pressed on her cheek before she could evade it.
“My dear little Gwen!” exclaimed Naomi, the years that had separated them quite forgotten. “I’ve not seen you in an age! How are—”
“Ifyou please, madam,” said an irate female voice, and a middle-aged lady very sharp of eyes and elbows pushed her way between them.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Naomi. “We block the way, I fear. Gwen, do come next door with me. The lending library has a charming little teashop, and we can have a nice cose.”
“B-but…,” protested Gwendolyn Rossiter in dismay. “Under the—the circumstances—”
A sharp elbow and an indignant glare came her way, and she recoiled. Naomi giggled, gripped her free hand, and they made their way into the sunny street where more bustling crowds forbade conversation until they were seated at a table in the relative peace of the lending library.
“Now tell me about yourself,” urged Naomi. “Oh, heavens! I have mislaid my maid!”
Gwendolyn smiled. “Maggie and my footman have taken a table over there.”
Naomi glanced at the pair. The footman was a well set up young man with a fine pair of bold brown eyes. “That saucy minx,” she said, amused, then ordered tea and currant cakes for two, and told the serving maid to provide similar fare to her abigail’s table and add the bill to her own. Turning back to her companion, she was forestalled.
“Naomi, you should not be speaking to me. Your papa—”
“My father is still in Kent. Besides, our friendship has nothing to do with our families. Or”—she added hurriedly, seeing Gwendolyn’s lips part for a comment—“let us pretend it does not. Tell me how you go on. I had thought you were to have an operation on your”—she glanced around and whispered—“on your knee. Did you not?”
“I did. But,” Gwendolyn sighed a little, “it was unsuccessful. I’m afraid nothing can be done. I shall always limp.”
“My dear, I am so sorry.”
The expressive little face clouded very briefly. “The worst of it was the disappointment for poor Papa. He was so hopeful…”
“Nonsense! The worst part was your suffering, which you are so brave as to disregard. But you know, Gwen, I think most of your friends do not even notice your small affliction. You have such a warm and sunny nature it renders so trite a thing quite unimportant.”
Gwendolyn leaned to press Naomi’s hand gratefully. “How kind you are. Oh, I do so wish—” She broke off in embarrassment, and drew back. “Indeed, I wonder you dare to be seen with me.”
