“Have you met Miss Westhaven?”
Bad bad bad—
“I can introduce you at the next ball.”
Worse—
“Or invite you both to dinner, wouldn’t that be lovely!”
Worst.
Peter did not want to see Celia. He did not want to think about Celia. He did not want to be dinner guests together, and required to take her hand and look into her eyes and he definitely did not want to hear her laugh. Like going to a field hospital, that was what he needed. The bone saw hurt like blazes, but afterwards your leg never pained you ever again.
Sometimes you died, but at least the damn leg didn’t hurt.
“You know, music is truly my sister’s passion,” Peter said. “She plays pianoforte for at least an hour a day.”
“Oh, Mr. Hughes, music is my passion as well!”
That’s why Peter had selected the topic.
“I would be delighted to escort your sister to soirees and concerts in Town.” Mrs. Pipperly went on to explain which had the best music, and which the best company.
No more talk of introductions to lovely, creative, fascinating ladies. Much better.
“Would your sister like to play at one of these little events?”
Peter’s mind snapped back to the conversation at hand. “I wish that she would, but she finds it terrifying. In her last letter, she wrote an entire page about whether it would be worse to playone song or to recite a single verse at a private dinner. An entire page!”
“Ah yes.” Mrs. Pipperly nodded, sagely. “It’s the sign of a girl who has been too much secluded, just as you thought.”
Having a father who threatened and glowered until she didn’t know her own mind didn’t help, either—although Peter heard he had gotten better. Or at least, ignored his children more. He made a sound of agreement as he sipped his tea.
“The cure—more jam, sir?—is to bring her to the city, where she will need to go about in company and may discover other women to admire and emulate—like Miss Westha—”
“I must find a house, then,” Peter interrupted.
“But I tell you truly, Mr. Hughes.” Mrs. Pipperly gazed at him with her doe-like eyes. “You must not delay.”
Had ten years been too long of a delay?
“You must give her the opportunity to acquire these skills before she goes on the Marriage Mart, Mr. Hughes.” She shook her head solemnly. “That is a lady’s most dangerous time of life. As their elders, it is our obligation to prepare them to make wise choices.”
“Ah, yes. Indeed.” Like having a false name, living with a mold-infested front room, and spending his evenings in the Docklands, pretending to take exotic powders and keeping watch for a smuggling ring that he was planning to betray. Any minute now, Peter would start making wise choices.
Mrs. Pipperly sighed as she checked the watch pinned to her bodice. “I was hoping to see Henry and his other friends, before my next appointment.”
Peter stood to assist with her chair.
“Curious, isn’t it?” Mrs. Pipperly raised her eyebrow. “Day after day, you are the only one of the young men who is awake for breakfast.”
Peter bowed, but she did not seem to expect an answer.
So she knew there was something different about Peter. Even Pipperly’s mother was wise enough to know that Peter was the wrong choice to ask to join your smuggling ring, if you were unfortunate enough to have one.
Chapter Six
Introducing Some Difficult Questions; or, The Difficult Questioner
