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“I’ve still heard nothing, I’m afraid,” she said frostily.
Damnation. “I won’t trouble you any longer then.”
“Oh don’t leave yet, Mr. Wright,” said Sweet Smiles. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Beatrice?”
“This is Miss Viola Beaton,” Lady Beatrice said, gesturing at her friend with the dimples, “and Miss Isobel Mayberry. They are fellow members ofthe Mayfair Ladies Knitting League, a charitable organization.”
“You’re eyeing the sandwiches rather hungrily, Mr. Wright,” said Miss Beaton. “Wouldn’t you like one?”
“No, he wouldn’t,” said Lady Beatrice, glancing pointedly at the door.
She obviously wanted to be rid of him. Ford didn’t like being dismissed by the high-and-mighty princess. He’d leave when he was ready to leave. The sandwiches did look tempting... and so did the lady.
His fantasies made flesh. Though in his fantasies her hair was loose and cascading over her shoulders, and she wasn’t wearing much more than a pair of stockings, some silk garters, and, perversely, those glinting spectacles.
He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. May as well get something out of this visit.
“Don’t mind if I do, Miss Beaton.” He settled warily onto a spindly chair covered in rose-patterned silk and accepted a delicate china plate piled with sandwiches from a footman who magically materialized to serve him.
“What are your plans this afternoon, Mr. Wright?” asked Miss Beaton.
“I’m going to the docks to help my friend with some repairs on his boat.”
“Do you have an hour to spare?”
Lady Beatrice glared at her friend. “He’s very busy.”
“Do you have experience inspecting buildings to determine their worth, Mr. Wright?” asked Miss Mayberry.
“No,” said Lady Beatrice.
“No, what?” asked Ford.
“Just no,” repeated Lady Beatrice firmly.
The sandwiches were too dainty and delicate, just like the ladies. He was outnumbered. He felt like a lumbering bear paraded before an audience at a menagerie. “I should be going. If you’ll excuse me, ladies I—”
“We wish to hire you,” said Miss Mayberry.
“We do?” asked Lady Beatrice.
“We do,” said Miss Mayberry with a firm nod. She turned to Lady Beatrice. “Well, he’s here, isn’t he? And he’s someone your brother trusts. We can be sure that his assessment of the property will be honest. You may as well make use of him.”
“Er, make use of me for what purpose?” Ford was completely lost.
“To inspect the condition of a property Lady Beatrice inherited. We’ll leave immediately. There’s no time to be wasted.” Miss Mayberry handed his plate of dainty, half-eaten sandwiches to a footman.
“I meant only to return this and be on my way.” He pulled the novel from his pocket and handed it to Lady Beatrice.
“Oh. I didn’t mean to give you that one. I just grabbed the first book my hand found.”
“That Sophronia could use a few lessons from you in how to send a man packing. She was far too meek, if you ask me.”
“You read it?”
“Don’t look so astonished. I can read.”
“We don’t want to send you packing,” said Miss Beaton. “It’s all settled. We’ll proceed to the property immediately. It will be a quick carriage ride to the Strand.” The ladies rose.
