“Come along, I entreat you. Come as my dear friend Beatrice, and tell me whether to choose the townhouse recently left empty by the death of a bachelor baronet, age 84, sadly not found for five days after passing, or the one which a couple fled due to an overpopulation of mice.”
Charlotte made a noise of dismay.Was he joking?
“Neither of those,” Beatrice said, crossing her arms stubbornly. “They both sound horrid.”
“They do,” her sister agreed.
“There’s another one that a family lately vacated after buying a larger house toward Richmond.”
“Richmond,” she repeated, recalling their day at Syon Park. “It is lovely there.”
“Too many pigeons as I recall,” he teased. “Besides, I want to live in London. Will you help me?”
“Lady Emily should be the one,” she insisted, and it hurt even to say the words.Lady Emily Carson!Beatrice had asked Amity who had asked the duke — apparently, the lady would keep her rank and title but take Greer’s last name. He would have his fondest wish, a lady wife.
“I cannot ask her to traipse all over Mayfair looking at houses. We don’t have that kind of easy friendship you and I share. If you and I do it, I don’t think we’ll need a chaperone, will we? We’ll have the Chestertons’ estate agent to keep us company in the house.”
Beatrice shook her head. “Oh, Mr. Carson. Have you learned nothing? Of course we need a chaperone. We cannot be in a carriage together, especially not a hired hackney.”
“I’ll buy my own soon, when I have a place to keep it. Anyway, what if we take your maid, the one who is always chasing after you and Miss Charlotte with cloaks and extra slippers?”
“Delia.” Beatrice considered it.
“Yes, can she perform the duties of a chaperone?”
“I suppose.” Then she shook her head. “I didn’t say I would go.”
“Please Miss Rare-Foure. We shall have fun as only the two of us do together.”
She stared at him.Was he blind to how he affected her?And yet, she heard herself acquiesce with bad grace. “Very well, if I’m the one friend you have in London.”
He grinned, neither confirming nor denying that to be the case. “Can you go tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling mulish anyway. “I shall speak to Delia tonight, as long as Charlotte doesn’t mind my coming in late tomorrow.”
“I don’t,” her sister said, proving she’d been listening the whole time.
“I shall collect you at eleven from your home.”
He looked far too pleased with himself as he strode out the door.
***
GREER FELT AS IF THEweight of the world had lifted from his shoulders. And that feeling continued even after he picked up Beatrice, looking supremely annoyed —bless her!— along with her maid.
“First stop, Brook Street and a townhouse with three floors.”
“Is this the one that the bachelor baronet died in?”
“What?” exclaimed the maid.
“No, I crossed that from my list,” he assured them. “This is the one the large family moved out of.”
“So, no mice either?” Beatrice asked, with her saucebox mouth. “You might consider that one since you have Miss Sylvia to keep them at bay.”
“I’m sure she can do an adept job,” he said. “But I prefer we not start with an unwieldy population of rodents.”
“We?” Beatrice repeated, looking even more sourly irritated, if that were possible.
