Page 26 of Sapphire


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“Well, her interest might lie in his direction, but I can warrant you he’d not be interested in a shrew like her!”

“Really?” Aunt Lucia rose from the bed. “Well, dear, it’s late. I just wanted to be sure you were all right and to say good-night.” She glanced at the empty side of the bed. “I suppose you’ve seen no sign of our Angel.”

“No.”

Lucia sighed. “Certainly not surprising. She had several suitors tonight.” She walked toward the door. “I’m going to turn in, if you’re certain you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“We’ll talk more tomorrow when you’re rested, puss. Good night.”

“Good night,” Sapphire called, knowing full well it would not be a good night because memories of Blake Thixton’s kiss would keep her awake until the early hours.

“Good morning, Lucia.” Lady Carlisle sat at the head of the dining table set for breakfast, dressed for an outing in a striped gray and white taffeta morning gown, her hair pulled tightly in a matronly chignon.

Lucia noted that Lady Carlisle didn’t look at her when she spoke. “Good morning, Edith,” she replied cheerfully, moving to the buffet table that had been set up along the wall of the dining room so that one could dine at one’s leisure. “Did you sleep well?” She accepted a plate from a maid standing as inconspicuously as possible beside the serving table, gaze fixed on the polished floor.

“I did not.”

Lucia took her time placing several lamb sausages on her plate, knowing exactly the direction this conversation was headed.

Lady Carlisle cleared her throat.

Lucia lifted the lid of a pottery serving bowl but rejected the dish of sardines. “I’m sorry to hear that you didn’t sleep well, Edith. Were you feeling poorly?” She took several corners of toast and heaped blackberry jam on the side of her plate.

“You could say that.” Lady Carlisle set her fork down firmly on the table. “Lucia…Mademoiselle Toulouse,” she said, taking on a more formal tone. “I must speak frankly with you.”

“So early in the morning?”

“Pardon me?”

Lucia turned from the buffet, a smile placed strategically on her lips. “I said, ‘a moment, darling.’” She took a seat at the dining table.

“Coffee, mum?” the servant asked Lucia, eyes downcast.

“Thank you.” Lucia smiled sweetly and then picked up her napkin and tucked it into the neckline of her brightly colored caftan. “Now, what were you saying, dear?” She lifted her gaze, batting her lashes.

“You heard what they were saying last night? The rumor?”

“Which one? I heard that Lady Thorngrove had lost three thousand pounds sterling at whist, that Baron Birdsley’s wife had run off with the Italian he’d hired to paint her portrait, and that eighty-year-old Lord Einestower’s son and heir had been born with hair as red as his Scots gardener’s when both Einestower and his nineteen-year-old bride had hair as black as any chimney sweep.”

“You know very well which one,” Lady Carlisle said haughtily. “Your goddaughter, Miss Fabergine, was seen in a compromising situation with Lord Wessex.”

Lucia shrugged, spreading jam on one of her toast points. “She kissed Lord Wessex. Rather, he kissed her. I’ll guess you did as much when you were nineteen, Edith. I wouldn’t put it past you to have done so since.”

“How dare you!”

Lucia took a bite of her toast. “It was a kiss, nothing more.”

“She was seen, alone, in the billiards room with a man.”

“For heaven’s sake, Edith, if you want to evoke these preposterous unwritten rules of London society, one could say Lord Wessex is a distant cousin.”

Lady Carlisle patted the corners of her lips with her napkin. “We have absolutely no proof of that. I never heard a word last night at the party about your goddaughter having any connection whatsoever to the Wessex family.”

Lucia tossed her toast on her plate. “Edith Carlisle, are you calling me a liar?”

“I am Lady Carlisle to you and I would not presume to say who speaks the truth and who does not. I’m simply stating that there is no proof that Sapphire Fabergine is related to the Thixton family in any way, and now that she has been caught in an unfortunate situation that could reflect badly on Lord Carlisle and me…”

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