“Stay right there,” Mirabel ordered, rising to her feet and putting her hand on Thea’s arm to block her way. “You aremyfriend. No one chases my friends away.” She made the pronouncement with her customary dramatic flair. “Osgood, I will receive my guests here in the morning room.”
“Yes, my lady.” The butler left.
“Mirabel, this is a terrible idea. I know how these women think. You don’t want me here.” Thea had already come to her feet and gathered up the list. She reached for her reticule.
“I absolutely do want you here,” Mirabel declared, moving to stand in front of the door. “I don’t have many friends, but the ones I have, I value.”
Her words touched Thea’s heart. “You are so special, Mirabel. There isn’t anyone in London who can hold a candle to you.”
Steps echoed on the black and white tiles in the hallway. Mirabel’s eyes widened. “Oh. Dear.”
Thea crossed to her side, turned her to face the door and took her arm. “Relax. They are calling on you. This meeting is under your roof. Everything will be fine.”
“But why are they here?” Mirabel repeated before plastering a welcoming smile on her face.
Osgood appeared in the doorway. “LadyMontvale and Mrs. Pomfrey,” he announced in his most sonorous voice.
Mrs. Pomfrey sailed into the room ahead of her companion. She was a tall, thin woman with impeccable taste. Her graying brown hair was cut in the Juno style, and her dress of burgundy muslin trimmed in ivory lace had to have been a creation of Madame Avant’s, the expensive couturier off Bond Street.
Lady Montvale wore a deep green day gown, trimmed in yellow velvet ribbon, also probably a creation of Madame Avant’s. She was a petite woman with a giant attitude and a scowl made more fierce by her thick eyebrows.
Thea assumed she would receive a scowl. Instead, she was stunned when both women gave perfunctory greetings to Mirabel, then charged Thea like hounds after a rabbit.
“Mrs. Martin,” Lady Montvale said, “what a pleasure to find you here!”
“We had not expected it,” Mrs. Pomfrey chimed in, pulling off her lace gloves as if preparing to have a cozy chat. “We were hoping that dear Lady Palmer would have some knowledge of your whereabouts, but how fortuitous to find you ourselves.”
“Yes, fortuitous?” Thea repeated. She cast aglance of confusion at Mirabel, who shrugged. She was as surprised as Thea.
“I was a friend of your dear mother,” Mrs. Pomfrey said, “God rest her soul. I feel ...”—she paused, stared hard at Thea and released a long breath before saying—“sad that I had lost touch with one of Violet’s daughters.”
Thea could not remember her mother ever mentioning Mrs. Pomfrey, but then her mother had died almost fifteen years ago, when her youngest brother had been born.
“I, too, was a friend,” Lady Montvale echoed. “We were close.”
“That is so good to know,” Thea murmured with sincerity she didn’t feel.
“Please, sit down,” Mirabel said, as if suddenly remembering her manners. “We were having my dandelion tea. A fabulous elixir. So good for the nervous system. I’ll have Osgood—ah, here is Mrs. Clemmons with the tray now.”
Mrs. Clemmons was Osgood’s wife and Mirabel’s housekeeper. She was a narrow, efficient woman. She carried in a tray that also held plates of small sandwiches and slices of Mirabel’s favorite cake. Osgood and Clemmons were Mirabel’s only two permanent servants. She hired a cook and an upstairs maid for when she was in town.She liked her small household, although when she went to her country estate, there was a host of servants and retainers. “The locals depend upon me,” she would often complain to Thea, who knew Mirabel was quite right. Her father’s estates had employed whole villages.
The housekeeper set the refreshments upon the table and informed Thea, “I took the liberty of preparing a tray for Masters Jonathan and Christopher.”
“Thank you,” Thea murmured, still undecided if she should stay. Mrs. Pomfrey and Lady Montvale had already taken their places at the table. She noticed she’d left the list of names on the table, and she swiped it up, folded it and made it disappear into her reticule.
Mrs. Pomfrey tapped the place next to her. “Sit, Mrs. Martin. Sit.”
“Yes, please sit, Mrs. Martin,” Mirabel said, a smile on her face and a plea in her eyes.
Thea took pity on her friend and seated herself at the table.
Mirabel poured tea. There was a moment of silence while everyone took a sip and smiled at each other and Thea wondered why the mavens had called. Mirabel looked just as curious.
Mrs. Pomfrey did not waste time enlighteningthem. “I understand, Mrs. Martin, that Lord Lyon has been seeking your advice on a matter of much importance.”
Thea wondered where she had heard that. Her question must have shown on her face, because Lady Montvale explained, “You were seen dining with him several days ago. Many of us know of your particular talents.”
“Talents?” A bit uncertain, Thea looked at Mirabel, who realized first what the ladies were saying. She jumped into the fray.
