“I think no such thing,” Lady Featherstone said, drawing herself up. “I do, however, believe that the wrong housekeeper was arrested. I have dedicated hours of my life to studying these matters and I have a keen instinct about them.”
“Who was the other housekeeper, though?” Lady Redfield asked, beginning to tip over and grabbing hold of Lady Mendleton’s arm to stay upright.
“That, right there, is therealmystery,” Lady Featherstone said.
“Oh dear,” Lady Mendleton said. “Anne, might I suggest you go to the card room and sit down and then do not get up? Perhaps not too many people will notice this…aberration. Which I am certain is only temporary.”
Lady Featherstone sniffed at this suggestion. Lady Redfield, always the peacemaker, said, “Excellent notion, though. Cards are so pleasant, are they not? And you, Louisa, tell us about your costume.”
“I am the Madonna,” Lady Mendleton said, gazing down at the doll in her arms as if it were an actual baby. “I thought, what is most important to my life? Who am I, really? Of course I knew that it must be motherhood, or grandmotherhood.” Lady Mendleton suddenly laughed and said, “I am the Grand-Madonna!”
“Well! That is…pleasant,” Lady Redfield said.
“Cecilia,” Lady Mendleton said, “Might I suggest you and Anne go to the card room together? I fear you will not stay upright for long in those wooden shoes.”
“Goodness, I did have doubts about them,” Lady Redfield said, peering down at them. “It was Lord Jeffries’ idea, he’s to come as a dutchman and he did say he wished to escort a Dutch lady round the floor if I would consider matching.”
“I am afraid you will twist your ankles,” Lady Mendleton said.
“Iama bit unsteady,” Lady Redfield admitted. “I fell in my bedchamber and then again in the drawing room before I even got out of the house. I did not wish Lord Jeffries to be disappointed, though, and I did imagine I would somehow get used to them.”
“Of course you will. Do not allow your confidence to be shaken,” Lady Featherstone said to Lady Redfield. Despite the lady’s stalwart defense, she suddenly paled as she looked toward the door.
“It’s the duchess,” Lady Redfield fairly squeaked out.
Harry whipped his head around toward the door. There was more than one duchess batting around London, but based on Lady Featherstone’s white face, he was certain which duchess he would find. There was only one duchesshewas interested in, and that was the particular one who escorted Lady Isabel.
Finally, there was the lady he waited for.
Lady Isabel was magnificent as a Greek, possibly as Helen of Troy. That would be very apropos. She had, after all, started a war.
She was dressed simply in elegant white folds of material that draped. The shoulders and waistband were done in gold embroidery and a gold silk sash was gathered on one side and knotted on the shoulder. Her glorious auburn hair hung loose in soft flowing waves, topped by a gold crown.
Harry had not seen her hair undone before and he imagined that was what it looked like when she rose from her bed. He had the urge to run his fingers through it.
As for the duchess, she added to the hilarity he had already witnessed from her friends, as she had clearly styled herself a Plantagenet queen. The awful emerald tiara plunked atop a floor-sweeping lace veil drifting down her back, the rich fabrics, the long outer cape glittering with paste jewels all told the tale.
For once, the lady did not wear brocade, but had chosen a purple velvet to announce her royal status. It seemed she had taken on Lady Isabel’s rarified blood as her own.
Harry made certain his mask was in place and then strode by the duchess and Lady Isabel. Making his voice deeper and growly to disguise it, he said, “Lady Featherstone is in trousers.”
It had the desired effect.
Like a falcon diving down after prey, the duchess pulled her cape close and flew toward the Bow Street Runner.
Harry circled back around and caught up to Lady Isabel who had, at least for the moment, been left behind.
“Lady Isabel,” he said.
“Mr. Vance,” she said, seeming a bit flustered. He was pleased though, she had instantly recognized his voice.
Then she said, “Wait a moment, did you just send the duchess on a goose chase?”
“I sent her, but it was no ruse. Lady Featherstone really is wearing pants. I did not even bother to mention Lady Redfield teetering on wood shoes and Lady Mendleton carries a doll, as the duchess will discover that for herself.”
“Goodness,” Lady Isabel said.
“Good for me, I think. May I put myself down on your card?”
