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Judith turned her intense stare on Bobby. Bobby couldn’t look away, though she felt Mrs. Holloway’s burning interest from across the carriage.
“What does LM stand for?” Judith asked. “Do you know?”
“Lucetta Mercier.” Bobby tightened, waiting for Judith’s reaction. Would she be excited or unhappy that Bobby had decided to pry? “That’s her married name.”
Judith stilled, lips parting. “Lucetta—” Her throat worked. “You found her.”
Bobby kept her voice gentle. “I appear to have.”
Judith continued to stare, round-eyed, then suddenly she launched herself at Bobby, wrapping her in a tight, desperate embrace. Judith’s mouth landed on Bobby’s face and neck, she exuberant in her shock and joy.
Bobby would love to explore how they could celebrate in this carriage, but dear Mrs. Holloway sat across from them. She’d edged her feet back as Judith’s sweeping boots nearly kicked hers.
“A trip to Paris might be wise.” Mrs. Holloway’s calm tones slid through Judith’s mad kisses. “If this lady is your sister, she will want to see you.”
Judith unwound herself from Bobby and fished out a handkerchief to wipe the tears from her face. A clean, neatly folded handkerchief, of course.
“She might not welcome me,” Judith said.
“Do not be so certain,” Mrs. Holloway said. “Am I correct that it has been many years since you’ve seen her? And that you lost touch?” Trust Mrs. H. to understand the full story from the bits and pieces she’d just heard.
“Yes.” Judith swiped at her cheeks again. “It was not an amicable parting. I have often wondered …”
“Go.” Mrs. Holloway sent Judith a sage smile. “You must try to make amends. It is clear that you love her still. Now, we have reached Cheapside. If you will have your coachman stop here, I will continue on foot.”
She was off to visit her daughter, Bobby understood—the charming little girl who had the same dark hair and pretty eyes as her mother. Mrs. H. couldn’t admit she had the daughter, lest she be dismissed from her post, but Bobby and Judith could keep a secret.
“Of course.” Judith knocked on the roof and ordered Dunstan to halt. She opened the door for Mrs. Holloway herself, and Bobby leapt out to guide Mrs. H. safely to the ground.
“Do greet your girl for us,” Bobby told her. “Here.” She fished into her pocket and pulled out a farthing. Any larger sum, and Mrs. H. would be too proud to accept it. “Let her spend that on sweets, or a dolly, or some such.”
Mrs. Holloway flushed but took the coin. “Thank you kindly, Lady Roberta.” She shook out her skirts on the dusty road. “And thank you both for your assistance. The promised lemon cake will be forthcoming.”
“Excellent.” Bobby grinned at her. “I await it with lively anticipation.”
Mrs. Holloway ducked her head, always humble, then turned from the carriage. Her steps grew eager as she headed for the lane that must hold the house where her daughter lived, looked after by Mrs. H.’s oldest friend.
“I much admire her,” Judith said once Bobby was back inside, and Dunstan started the coach again. “A very clear-headed woman. We all should be as steady.”
“I agree.” Bobby edged next to Judith, hoping for a return to the enthusiastic kissing. “Shall we do as she says and go to Paris?”
“I’d like to,” Judith said with faint hope. “But what if Lucetta doesn’t want to see me?”
“I wager things have changed. Could be she doesn’t believe you want to see her. But good for her for becoming a photographer herself. All artists in your family, eh?”
“I’d love to have a look at what sorts of things she’s done.” Judith’s tone turned more optimistic. “Yes, let us plan a journey. Scandalize our families by traveling alone together.”
“Hardly alone, with Evans dogging your steps,” Bobby said with a laugh. Judith would never leave her lady’s maid behind. “We can pretend to be man and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Perry. Such fun.” Bobby tried to push aside a qualm. “If you’ll have me?”
The smile Judith turned on Bobby transformed the gray London street outside into the brightest paradise.
“Of course, my darling Bobby. Do you even have to ask?”
Bobby’s throat tightened. “I do have to ask. You know how fond I am of you, Judes.” She drew a breath and then decided to shuck her reticence. “No, not fond. I mean—I love you. There, I said it.”
Bobby sat back, her heart banging. She’d never confessed her true feelings to Judith, fearing the response. Would Judith give her a kind smile and then explain that she didn’t share the sentiment? Judith had always seemed just out of reach, like a fine-plumed bird who flew off as one stretched out a hand toward it.
Judith turned in the seat with a rustle of fabric, the scent of tea and buttery cake clinging to her.
