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There was an awkward pause.
“Oh, well, that’s splendid,” he replied.
This had to count as the most embarrassing day of her life, and the clock had yet to strike nine.
He steered her to a sturdy iron gate in the garden wall. Extracting a key from his waistcoat, he unlocked the gate and ushered her through, pausing to lock it behind him. His caution seemed excessive, but more to the point—why didhehave a key to St. George’s garden?
Kendrick led her along a gravel path through a small but pretty enclosure. A tidy kitchen garden was tucked into one corner, while a wrought-iron gazebo, surrounded by beds of roses, took up the rest of the space. Even in the rain it was a charming retreat, and a great deal more welcoming than the formal Italianate gardens behind Musgrave House.
At the end of the walk stood a modern-looking brick townhouse. The St. Georges had moved to Cadogan Square shortly after their marriage, and now led a life of quiet domesticity. Since Lady Vivien, a vivacious and charming social butterfly, had once been one of the most popular beauties of theton, Sabrina still found the change in her friend rather mind-boggling.
“There you are,” cried the lady herself as Sabrina stepped down into a low-ceiled and blessedly warm kitchen.
Vivien, in a frivolous dressing gown and an even more frivolous nightcap, dodged around the cook, the kitchen maid, and a footman, all of whom seemed unsurprised by either their mistress’s unconventional appearance or by a pair of bedraggled guests muddying up the clean stone floor.
Ignoring Sabrina’s bedraggled state, Vivien gave her a hug before turning to a neatly dressed, middle-aged man who appeared from the pantry with a stack of clean towels. “Ah, Simpson, thank you.”
She removed the damp coat from Sabrina’s shoulders and replaced it with a wonderfully thick towel. Then she turned to Kendrick.
“Graeme, I do hope you’re not responsible for Lady Sabrina’s condition. I’ll be most annoyed if you are.”
Kendrick, who’d taken a towel to dry his head, regarded her with disbelief. “I’m the one who pulled her pretty arse out of the Serpentine. She’d have been in quite the fix if I hadn’t come along.”
After recovering from the shock of his outré language, Sabrina bristled. “I would have been perfectly fine. The water wasn’t even over my head.”
“Yes, and I’m sure you could have then strolled right home through Mayfair. And let’s not even mention your idiotic maid.”
“What happened to your maid?” Vivien asked.
“She fainted when the cutpurse pushed me into the water,” Sabrina replied.
“How dreadfully unhelpful of her. Perhaps you might think about hiring a new maid, my dear.”
Sabrina blinked, nonplussed by her friend’s casual attitude toward the morning’s events. “Er . . .”
“And what,” Vivien interrupted, leveling a glare at Kendrick, “were you doing while all this pushing and fainting was going on? Aden will be most displeased to hear that you allowed this to happen, Graeme.”
“That’ll be a change of pace,” Graeme sarcastically replied. “The fact is, I wasn’t close enough to stop the blighter from attacking the silly girl, or I obviously would have.”
Silly? Sabrina wasneversilly.
You were this morning.
“I was simply minding my own business when that dreadful man decided to rob me,” she said, adopting a tone of offended dignity.
“Minding your own business?” he said. “What young lady in her right mind goes larking around the park at that hour of the morning?”
Vivien scrunched up her nose. “Graeme does make rather a good point, my dear. Fashionable persons rarely stroll in the park before noon, and certainly not in a downpour.”
Sabrina’s cheeks heated again. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in front of the servants, although, to be fair, none of them seemed the slightest bit interested. Simpson stood with a patiently resigned attitude, as if these sorts of events happened on a regular basis.
“Vivien, I’m absolutely desperate to get out of these wet things,” she said. “Do you think we could hold off further explanations until I do so?”
Her friend was instantly diverted. “Goodness, we’re all brutes to keep you standing here. And I’m sure Cook is beside herself at the mess Graeme is making of her kitchen.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Kendrick protested.
“You’re dripping,” Vivien replied. “Drips make Cook positively demented.”
