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The door opened to admit Mr. Robertson, followed by a portly gentleman with spectacles and curious eyes. “Mr. Rothschild has come to take Mr. Danvers back to school, if you could now say your farewells.”
Archie stood at once, and I did so beside him. I asked the teacher about taking Archie out for an hour or so the following day, and we set the appointment, provided I came to the school to collect him.
“Until tomorrow, Archie,” I said, curtsying.
He replied with another gallant bow, and we bade one another farewell. Once Archie was off down the street with his teacher, I turned back toward the solicitor. “If I wanted to write to Archie’s mother, would you be able to provide me with her direction?”
“Oh,” Mr. Robertson said, apparently surprised by my request. Felicity and Benedict stood a little behind the man and watched me curiously. “I suppose I could do that. If you will just give me a moment, I will copy it down for you.”
He bustled away, and I crossed the polished wood floors toward my friends.
“You plan to write to the woman?” Felicity asked quietly. “The meeting with Mr. Danvers must have gone over well.”
“He’s asked me to call him Archie.”
Felicity grinned. “He certainly looks like an Archie. He has your mischievous little smile, you know.”
I startled and looked from Felicity to Benedict for confirmation of that fact. “He certainly does,” Ben agreed, a teasing glint in his eye. “Heaven help us all.”
* * *
The musicale we attended later that evening was held in one of the smaller assembly rooms, lit by fires in the hearths that punctuated the walls and candles in the chandelier. I wore the pink gown that Lady Edith favored and thought she would have liked to be with us, had her health permitted it. It was a sad thing when such an able-bodied woman was forced to remain home because of such violent carriage sickness. Though I could not imagine even a well turned out musicale or a few months of social activities in London were worth a week or longer of sickness in a carriage.
“How did you convince Henry to come?” I whispered, leaning close to Felicity and drawing my arm around hers.
“He enjoys music, evidently. I spoke briefly of the harpist on the program for this evening, and the next thing I knew he was meeting us downstairs in his evening clothes.”
“Now that we’ve found another of his weaknesses, we must exploit it,” I said, grinning.
“We’re no better than a pair of matchmaking mothers.”
“When it comes to Henry, is that such an awful thing?”
Felicity nodded, but the mischief dancing in her eyes proved she was on my side. I liked Henry excessively, and I only wanted to see him happy. What was so wrong with that?
We selected seats in the stuffy room, and I found myself sandwiched between Benedict and Henry, leaning toward the latter so my leg would not accidentally brush the former.
“Do you enjoy harp music, Henry?”
He looked at me with mild suspicion. “I do. It is hard not to appreciate it.”
“When your schoolmate is a novice and cannot quite master the chords, then I do think it becomes difficult to appreciate. One must admire her perseverance, however. She kept at it, and by my last year of school I was dreaming about choppy music and broken chords.”
Henry gave me an amused smile. “I have every confidence the woman on the program this evening will not assault our ears with clashing strings.”
When the room had filled and the music began, I was immediately swept up in the lilting melody. My posture relaxed into the music until I felt the pressure of Benedict’s leg resting lightly against mine, and despite the knowledge that I ought to shift away, I could not bring myself to. We spent the duration of the musical program in this faint contact, the warmth of his leg seeping through the layers of my gown. When the final applause rang out, he leaned over further and whispered in my ear, his warm breath driving shivers down my neck.
“The fop we saw in Fremont, that little market town with the boxing match, is here. Do not panic, for I’m certain he will not recognize you.”
“I did not know him,” I whispered back, though my heart had begun to gallop.
“No, but I recall your friend was with him last time, so it stands to reason that there is a chance they are together again.”
My friend? I did not know if I would count Peter Seymour as a friend. “Peter is in London.”
“He was not in London when you saw him in Fremont.”
“Drat.” Benedict was correct. If Peter had traveled to the fight with the fop, then perhaps they’d also stayed in Bath together.
