It was her emphasis on the last word, and the carelessness with which she said it, that dug under my skin. But I only responded with a weak smile. “I will do my best.”
“She’s been spending an awful lot of time lately with a man called Charles Pearson,” my mother continued. “At first, Delia claimed they were only friends, but I don’t think that is—”
“No man is friends with awoman,” my father scoffed. “Ridiculous idea.”
My mother subtly rolled her eyes, but did not bother to respond to his comment. “His family is respectable enough, but I don’t know what his intentions are. And she shouldn’t spend so much time with him if it isn’t going to lead somewhere. You understand?”
“Yes. Perfectly.”
“I have no desire to act as my daughter’s jailer,” my mother said, looking visibly uncomfortable. “But if she gets herself into trouble, I may not have a choice.”
I balked at this rather draconian statement. “Mother, I really don’t think—”
“Just make sure you keep a close eye on her tomorrow night,” she said. Her eyes were as hard as steel now, and Iknew from much experience there was no point in trying to reason with her.
“Of course. Even if it means enduring an evening with a group of bohemian artists,” I added, attempting to lighten the mood.
But my mother arched an elegant brow. “I can’t imagine it will be that difficult. Agatha mentioned some writer you knew on Corfu.”
My mouth went dry. I had barely said a word to my aunt about that situation. Why on earth would she think—Cleo.No doubt my daughter had told Aunt Agatha all manner of nonsense.
“Mr. Dorian only hired me as his typist temporarily,” I explained. “We didn’t—we didn’t socialize.”
No, we just investigated a murder and traveled together before he rescued me from certain death.
Then, just as I began to think that more was possible, he made a shocking claim against my late husband, insinuating that he had been stealing Grecian artifacts and selling them on the black market. We argued, and he left Corfu shortly afterwards. I hadn’t heard a word from him since. Unless one counted an admittedly vague dedication in his latest book—which I didnot.
But I would rather face death once again than discuss any of that with my mother.
As she held my gaze, I could feel my cheeks heating, but I would say nothing more about it.
“I see. Agatha must have misunderstood. As usual,” she added under her breath.
The instinct to defend my aunt began to well inside me, but it was swiftly overruled by the desire to move on from the subject. “Not to worry,” I said with a tight smile, before casting a glance at the clock on the mantel. “I had no idea it was so late. We really must be going.”
It could have been two in the afternoon and I would have said the exact same thing. This reunion had gone on long enough.
My mother made no objection, so I moved to collect Tommy from the corner. We then said our good-byes, and I promised Dolly I would send him to her home tomorrow in time for tea.
“That was nice, Mama,” Tommy said once we retrieved our coats.
I cast a wary glance at the footman who, like any well-trained servant, was pretending to ignore us. “Yes. Very nice. Now let’s go home.”
Chapter 3
My aunt’s London residence was not far from my parents’ home, just across the way from Hyde Park. As a young woman, she had essentially been married off to a much older associate of my grandfather’s. But, in her own words, her late husband had been “reasonably kind, blessedly inattentive, and was gracious enough to die not long after the wedding.” This left her with a good deal of money, which she turned into a great deal thanks to some canny investments. He also left her the stately town house we currently inhabited while my aunt wintered in Italy. The walls were painted in a shade of pale yellow she claimed matched the interior of a villa she had stayed at once on Lake Como, while the rest of the house was filled with treasures she had collected during her various trips over the years. But unlike my parents’ residence, my aunt’s home felt distinctly cozy, and we had settled in quite easily.
It also helped that my aunt kept her staff very small, which I preferred. In addition to her housekeeper, there was a maid of all work, a coachman who also functioned as both a handyman and gardener, and a cook who came a few times a week,while other staff were hired as needed. On Corfu, Mrs. Kouris assisted me with the cooking and cleaning, but that was all. As my aunt did not employ a butler, her housekeeper, Mrs. Ford, essentially occupied both roles. And from what I could tell, the woman was so efficient, she could have run a British warship all by herself.
As Tommy and I entered the foyer, she came to greet us.
“Hello, Mrs. Harper. How was your dinner?”
“Long,” I answered, just as Tommy said, “Splendid!”
Then I barely got his coat off before he scampered away to his room.
She gave me a sympathetic smile and took his coat from me. As my aunt’s most trusted and longstanding employee, Mrs. Ford was well aware of the mutual disdain between Agatha and my mother. “Shall I make you some tea and warm some milk for Tommy?” she asked as she hung up Tommy’s coat.
