“But how will you get there, my lady?” Mrs. Applegate asked in puzzlement.
Jillian stared at her in stupefaction. It had completely gone beyond her that she was stranded, with no means of transportation. Mrs. Applegate took pity on her obvious befuddlement and offered to run out and hire a hackney.
“No, no,” Jillian said, shaking her head. “I will do it. Surely it can’t be that difficult, and if all else fails, I will walk. It’s only a few blocks.
“Are you sure, my lady?” Mrs. Applegate looked at her doubtfully.
“Quite sure,” Jillian said in a determined voice.
In the end, she walked the six blocks to Lady Bea’s home. Who knew hiring a hackney was so difficult? In the past, she just sent a messenger and a driver collected her at her door. She felt more than a little ridiculous waving her kerchief at a passing hack.
She trudged past the gate and up the walkway to Lady Bea’s door. Raising the ornately designed knocker, she rapped twice. The door opened and she handed over her calling card into the butler’s gloved hand then followed him into the drawing room.
Five ladies sat in close proximity around a small table. Three sat huddled together on the settee while Lady Bea and the remaining lady sat across the table in two armchairs.
“Lady Penroth,” the butler announced to the room.
Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at Jillian, and suddenly she regretted coming. Lady Bea rose and hurried over to greet her.
“I am so pleased you came. Let me present you to the ladies.”
She ushered Jillian over to the circle of women.
“Ladies, you remember Lady Penroth.”
At their nods, Jillian offered a tentative smile.
“Jillian, meet Eloise Huntington. She wasn’t in attendance at the ball. And of course you remember Lady Cecilia, Lady Burlington and Adela Farnsworth.”
Jillian nodded to each of the ladies in turn.
“Do sit down, Jillian,” Lady Bea urged.
Jillian settled into a chair next to Lady Bea and accepted the cup of tea the countess poured for her. She sipped nervously, unsure of what to say to the ladies, all paragons of society.
“As I was saying,” Lady Cecilia began, cutting through the awkward silence. “Something should be done about the Earl of Montrose.”
“You mean Lord Dick,” Adela cut in with a laugh.
The ladies giggled.
“Does anyone have any doubt that he gave himself that horrid nickname?” Lady Burlington asked with a delicate shudder.
“Perhaps Jillian can tell us,” Eloise said innocently. “I seem to recollect seeing her name linked to his a few days ago.”
The ladies looked inquiringly at Jillian and she squirmed in her seat. The over amorous earl had asked her to dance at a ball a few nights earlier and as with most of her actions, the gossip rags immediately begun speculating about an affair.
“The earl’s attributes, or lack thereof, are of no concern to me,” Jillian said, meeting their gaze head on.
A titter of laughter swept through the circle.
“Oh, you are positively wicked!” Lady Cecilia interjected. “What a quick wit you have.”
Jillian looked at her in confusion. “I was quite serious, Lady Cecilia.”
Lady Cecilia’s laughter tinkled again. “Oh, I know you were. You mustn’t worry, Jillian. No one present gives any credence to the gossip sheets.”
“But that doesn’t mean we don’t like to read them,” Lady Bea broke in.
