“Her ladyship isn’t receiving calls today, Miss Somerset.”
Lady Bagshot’s butler, Forbes, peered down his long nose at Hyacinth without a flicker of recognition on his face, despite the fact she’d faithfully called on Lady Bagshot once a week since last spring.
“Not at home?” It was nonsense, of course. Lady Bagshot wasalwaysat home. Thetonbrought the choicest gossip to her doorstep every day during calling hours. There wasn’t a chance her ladyship would risk missing a single morsel.
Forbes shoved the silver tray under their noses. “As I said, Miss Somerset. Would you care to leave your cards?”
Hyacinth pressed her lips together to smother a sharp retort. Lady Bagshotwasat home. Even now, the bothersome old thing was likely listening to this very conversation through a crack in her drawing room door.
Hyacinth tried to force a reassuring smile for Isla’s sake, but this didn’t look at all promising. Lady Bagshot had never before refused to receive her. That she would do so now could only mean one thing.
She’d already made up her mind about the scandal, the Ramseys, and Hyacinth herself, and her friends would follow her ladyship’s lead, just as they always did. Once Lady Bagshot condemned you, social ruin was the inevitable result, and her ladyship never offered second chances, not unless…
Not unless the gossip was so delicious she simply couldn’t resist.
Hyacinth’s heart started to pound as a terribly foolish, but undeniably ingenious idea began to take root in her mind.
No, it was far too risky. She’d never pull it off. It would backfire and explode right in her face, and she wasn’t a lady who enjoyed explosions.
Or risk.
Then again, after that speech she’d made about her grandmother never getting past Lady Bagshot’s butler, did she really want to slink back to the carriage and admit to Lachlan Ramseyshecouldn’t get past Lady Bagshot’s butler, either?
No. Almost anything was preferable tothat.
The idea began to sound more and more plausible as she allowed it to take up space in her head, and really, what other choice did they have at this point? She could tackle Forbes about the knees and storm Lady Bagshot’s drawing room, or she could offer up the tastiest morsel of gossip in London to her ladyship, and see if that wouldn’t get them through the door.
How fortunate the tastiest morsel in London just happened to be waiting in their carriage.
“No, we won’t leave our cards. Thank you, Forbes. Come, Miss Ramsey.” Hyacinth gave the butler a pleasant smile, then drew Isla’s hand through her elbow and led her down the steps.
“Oh, dear. I don’t suppose that was a good sign, was it?” Isla glanced back at Lady Bagshot’s door with a forlorn sigh. “Well, perhaps Lord and Lady Huntington will have better success with the Hayhurst’s.”
“Oh, no worries there. They’ll have success. Iris and Lady Hayhurst have been friends since we came to London. But I’m not quite ready to give up on Lady Bagshot yet.” They’d reached the street, but Hyacinth motioned for the driver to remain on the box, and opened the door to the carriage. “Mr. Ramsey. We’ll need you to come with us to call on Lady Bagshot.”
Both Lachlan and Isla looked at her as if she’d lost her wits.
“Have you gone mad? Lachlan can’t pay calls, he’s…well, everyone thinks he’s…” Isla darted a look at Hyacinth, bit her lip, and trailed off into silence.
“Everyone in London think I’m a murderer,” Lachlan said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Or have you forgotten?”
Hyacinth’s face heated at the reminder. “No, and I’m not likely to, but Mr. Ramsey’s reputation for, um…lawlessness is precisely what will get us through the door.”
Lachlan pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, as if she were giving him a headache. “Does Lady Bagshot regularly welcome murderers into her drawing room?”
“No, but only because no murderers ever call on her. Don’t you see? It’s easy enough for Lady Bagshot to turn Isla and me away, but she’ll never be able to resist the chance to entertainyou, Mr. Ramsey. Why, you’re London’s most notorious gentleman at the moment.”
“Not by choice.”
“Well, no,” Hyacinth admitted. “But that’s neither here nor there. Perhaps you need to know Lady Bagshot as I do to understand, but you may trust me when I say she loves gossip above all things. Do you suppose she’ll give up the chance to be the first lady in London to get the story from the so-called murderer’s own lips? She’ll be crowing about it in every drawing room in London.”
Lachlan gave her a long, hard look, as if he’d never seen her before now. “That’s diabolical, Miss Somerset. I wouldn’t have guessed you had such a fiendish side. What other surprises are you hiding under that angelic face?”
If he’d said the word “angelic” with even a hint of admiration it likely would have tied Hyacinth’s tongue for a week, but he sounded more suspicious than appreciative, and since she wasn’t certain if it were an accusation or a compliment, she decided to ignore it. “Will you come?”
“Arrogant countesses, gossip, ball invitations.” He slid across the seat with a sigh, stepped onto the street, and closed the carriage door behind him. “It’s tedious, being a murderer.”
Hyacinth’s lips quirked. “If all goes well, you won’t have to be one for much longer.”
