“I heard something interesting tonight at Peachornsbys’,” Lorelei said in a conspiratorial whisper.
There was no way for Maeve to escape, and thankfully, she’d caught her breath, even if the blood still roared in her ears. “What was that?” she said lightly.
“You are scheduled for a drive in the park tomorrow afternoon with Dorset.”
Good heavens, she’d forgotten. “Yes, that’s right.”
“I also heard that Oxford stopped by earlier today and visited with you and Brandon.” Lorelei reached out and dragged her into a quick hug. “Thank you for that, my friend.”
“For what?” she whispered.
“Bringing my brother to life again.”
“I’m certain it was nothing I did.” Maeve’s voice didn’t even sound like her own. Not that husky strangled croak.
Lorelei stood back and swiped at her own dampened cheek. “By the by, what do you think of a quick trip to Bond Street in the morning?”
“I was thinking of an excursion to the park with Nathan.”
“That is an excellent plan. I’ll send a note to Ginny and invite Irene and Celia,” Lorelei said.
Maeve resisted an urge to look over her shoulder. Chances were very high that Harlowe was still in the gallery, contemplating his lost memory through his brilliant artwork, and not standing just feet above, listening to every praising word Lorelei said.
Maeve pulled herself up. How utterly silly of her to let someone of Harlowe’s ilk get to her, reduce her to a blithering idiot.
Kimpton came up the stairs, holding a tumbler of amber liquid. “Good evening, Lady Alymer. I have some information for you regarding new lodgings if you are still interested. Of course, you are more than welcome to reside here as long as you like.”
Maeve considered his ending statement, then pinned him with a savvy gleam. “My mother cornered you, didn’t she?”
He scowled.
Lorelei covered her laugh with a hand.
Maeve’s hands went to her hips.
“All right, I concede.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “That woman is relentless. I thought Ginny’s mother had the market. I was wrong.”
“Yes, well, my abject apologies for your encounter. What did she say exactly?”
“She wanted to know when you were coming home. I certainly didn’t have a response to that.”
“I see. Well, suffice it to say I’m still interested in hearing what you’ve found. Would tomorrow afternoon be agreeable to meet? Before my drive with Dorset?”
“Certainly, I shall make myself available.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Maeve reached over and squeezed Lorelei’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning, my dear.”
Ten
H
arlowe stood in the darkness, partway down the stairs of the third floor until he heard Maeve’s chamber door shut behind her. He quietly went back up the stairs, found a candle and located another flight of stairs that led to the attic. The door wasn’t locked.
He moved through the space and located a couple more candles and set their wicks aflame, sending flickering shadows on the contents of the room.
Upon her marriage to Kimpton, Lorelei had insisted her new husband allot a space for Harlowe to paint when he’d visited on holidays from Eton, then Cambridge.
Over the years, it was safe to say, there had been no love lost between Harlowe and his brother-in-law. The man had shown no respect for Harlowe’s interest in art. Harlowe was forced to accredit Kimpton with some sense, however. It had been just Lorelei and Harlowe since Harlowe had been a mulish thirteen-year-old child.
