Page 24 of A Story of Love

Freddie turned her unusual fawn-colored eyes on Lori, the expression in them as unreadable as ever. “You are welcome, Lori.”

“I was wondering—”

“If you could sneak away and eavesdrop and gather information for your Miss Emily column? Or were you hoping to slip away from the ball entirely and gather information for one of Mr. Parker’s other stories?”

Lori’s face heated. “Er,” was all she could manage.

“Er, indeed. Of course you may go, Lori. But before you leave, I have one question.”

Lori hated to ask, but… “Yes?”

“When were you planning on telling me that two Bow Street Runners visited our house?”

Lori grimaced. “Ah. I was going to tell you, I just, er… Well, I was waiting for the right time.”

“What would have happened if Runners had come to call when one of my clients was sitting in our drawing room?”

Lori briefly closed her eyes. “I am so sorry to bring such trouble to your very doorstep, Freddie. I will move out. I can go and—”

“I don’t want you to leave. And I don’t want you to stop what you are doing, either. I just want you to be honest with me.” The pain beneath her words was worse than anger would have been.

“I will tell you everything from now on, Fred. I promise.”

Freddie made a ladylike sound of disbelief. “I don’t need to know everything, just anything important—like Bow Street Runners.”

There was no point in confessing that the Runners had been as big a surprise to Lori as they had to Freddie. The truth was that Lori should have known that trespassing on Viscount Severn’s property could have such ramifications.

“I swear that I’ll not let that happen again,” Lori said.

“There is one other thing,” Freddie said.

Oh, God. What now?

“Anything,” Lori said, hoping it wasn’t too painful.

“You have worn the same two gowns for months and they are beginning to look… tired. People know you are my housemate and friend, Lori. Many are also aware that you aid me in my work from time-to-time. As such, your appearance—”

“Reflects poorly on you,” Lori finished, not wanting to make her friend say the words. “I know, and I am so—”

“I don’t tell you this to make you feel ashamed, or to make you apologize. I just want you to give me both gowns for refurbishment.”

“Oh! Er, that’s terribly kind of you, Freddie. But, you don’t—”

Freddie set a hand over Lori’s. “I enjoy doing such things, Lori. It will not be a burden, but a true pleasure.”

She saw the truth in Freddie’s warm gaze and said, “Then I accept. Thank you.”

Freddie smiled and they both turned and watched the dancers, entertaining their own thoughts in silence.

Lori had just opened her mouth to take her leave when an angel glided into view. “Good Lord, who is that?” she asked, riveted by the vision of perfection dancing the quadrille with the recently out-of-mourning Earl of Moreland.

Freddie did not need to ask who she meant. “That is Miss Demelza Pascoe, the only daughter of Bryok Pascoe.”

“So that’s the girl all the sporting books call the Dry Goods Princess!”

“That is excessively vulgar, Lori.”

“Sorry,” Lori murmured, wiping the smirk from her face. “She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And so young! I feel ancient just looking at her. How old is she?”