Lady Eastbury tilted her head. “It won’t take long.”
Something passed between them, sharp as flint. Erica’s posture shifted, chin lifted as if to object. But her gaze met Lady Eastbury’s, and she reconsidered.
“Of course,” she said again, with a different smile. “We’ll do that first.”
They moved into the small sitting room, where Lady Eastbury had already laid out a swatch book and a half-dozen folded fabrics beside the tea tray. Erica sat gracefully, smoothing her skirt as though she were preparing to be painted. Her tone was pleasant, but Leticia heard the faint hollowness beneath it.
Lady Eastbury lifted the first sample, a rich cream silk with a faint gold embroidery.
“For the Bainbridge wedding,” she said aloud, more for Leticia than Erica. “Lady Pembroke wasn’t satisfied with the original selection. Too stiff.”
Erica nodded as if she agreed, though she hadn’t been present. “It’s a fussy fabric. Never sits right on the shoulder.”
Leticia made a polite sound, but her attention kept drifting. Erica’s eyes flicked between the tea tray and the door.
Halfway through the samples, another voice called down the hall.
“Anyone home? I’ve brought cake and scandal.”
Mrs. Bainbridge swept in, cheeks flushed, curls rebelliously escaping her bonnet. She carried a small box tied with twine, eyes sparkling with mischief. Lady Eastbury raised an eyebrow. Leticia sat straighter, braced for something unexpected.
“Perfect timing,” Lady Eastbury said smoothly.
“Oh, good, I thought for a moment I’d be crashing a duel,” Mrs. Bainbridge said brightly, then noticed Erica. “Oh. Hello, Miss Notley. Don’t let me interrupt.”
She crossed to Leticia and handed her the box. “Lemon cake. I bribed the cook. It’s not for sharing, mind you, unless you’re feeling generous.”
Lady Eastbury arched a brow. “You’ve arrived at just the right time.”
“I always do,” Mrs. Bainbridge said, then looked to Erica, her tone feather-light. “Of course, if I’ve interrupted important conversations about questionable fabric or even more questionable intentions, I shallsimply hover and glean.”
Erica rose, her smile tighter now. “I was just going.”
“You’ll take something sweet before you do?” Lady Eastbury asked.
“No, thank you.” Erica gathered her gloves. “Another time.”
Leticia watched the door close, a faint chill prickling her spine.
Mrs. Bainbridge was already helping herself to a second cup of tea and examining the discarded fabric samples.
“I’ve never seen a woman make cream silk look like mourning garb,” she muttered, flicking one edge. “Honestly, who sends Erica Notley to deliver anything delicate?”
Leticia gave a weak laugh. “She’s… composed.”
“So is a marble statue,” Mrs. Bainbridge replied. “But at least statues don’t try to listen through doorframes.”
Lady Eastbury offered no contradiction. Her silence spoke enough.
They remained in companionable silence as the fire crackled softly. A faint breeze stirred the curtains.
“Do you like her?” Leticia asked.
Lady Eastbury poured herself a fresh cup of tea. “I trust her to behave as she always has. And I watch closely, just in case.”
Leticia almost laughed. “A diplomatic answer.” Yet beneath her smile, a knot of unease coiled tighter.
“My favorite kind.”
