Free Partridge and the Peartree by Patricia Kiyono Page B

her purchase a small home in
London.
    Her impending move had been in her thoughts when she
had run into the man in the bookshop. He'd looked familiar, but
since she avoided most social events, she had no idea who he was.
The gentleman's face had been kind, full of character and
compassion. The scars on his left cheek did nothing to detract from
his looks, and his deep blue eyes had shone with intelligence. He'd
been standing in the philosophy section, perusing the titles on a
high shelf when she'd bumped into him. She'd been mortified and had
sputtered an apology, but he hadn't responded to that. Instead,
he'd simply picked up her books and handed them back to her.
Perhaps he hadn't wanted anyone to know he was there, either.
    Arriving at the townhouse, she instructed Giles to
take the satchel to her sitting room. She would have two or three
hours to herself before dinner, and then she would have to get
dressed to go out again. Tonight was the Linden daughters' recital,
and though she preferred to stay at home, she felt obligated to
attend. Desiree, the girls' mother, had become a good friend
through the Ladies' Literary Society, and both Laurel and Merilee
had become dear to her.
    Perhaps, if she could shut out enough of the music,
she could plot out her next novel in her head. She had a good
memory and could write down the details when she got home.
     
    ****
     
    Jeanne Brown inspected her mistress's cloak with
distaste. Why did Lady Amelia insist on trudging through the back
streets of the city, where the walks were strewn with debris? It
would take her the better part of a day to clean the hems of this
garment. Thankfully, she had Lady Amelia's clothing for this
evening ready, including a new, clean cloak.
    She wondered about the books her mistress had
purchased earlier. She'd seemed flushed when she'd returned from
her excursion, but it hadn't been from exertion. Her brother's
satchel had been stuffed, probably with new books, but the pink in
her cheeks seemed more from a heightened emotion. Had the lady met
with an unsavory character? Or were the books themselves of a
scandalous nature?
    Rising, Jeanne took the garment to the kitchen to
search for the lye soap. Perhaps she could get most of this dirt
out before dinner. When she'd last looked in on her mistress, the
lady was seated at her writing desk. Lady Amelia was always
writing, and sometimes when Jeanne went to fetch her for dinner she
had to speak several times to gain her attention.
    Lady Amelia didn't socialize much, preferring her own
company to the social events of the holiday season. But her best
friend had entreated her to attend her daughters' piano and dance
recital, and she had agreed. She would wear the lovely gown Jeanne
had carefully pressed, don the soft matching slippers, and have her
hair arranged. Jeanne enjoyed creating elaborate coiffures and
bemoaned the fact that her employer did not make use of her talent.
If given the opportunity, she would ensure Lady Amelia's golden
tresses were the talk of the ton .
    Perhaps tonight Jeanne's creation would catch the
attention of a dashing gentleman who would sweep Lady Amelia off
her feet. Then the two of them could move to that gentleman's
estate, and they could be rid of this place. Lord Sudbury was all
right, but his future bride was a dragon who'd done nothing but
undermine Amelia, changing the décor, contradicting her orders to
the staff, and even lying to the earl to make Lady Amelia look bad.
Her mistress would be better off leaving Sudbury House.
    Entering the kitchen, she inhaled the savory smells
of the delicious meal Cook prepared, and her stomach rumbled.
    "Good afternoon, Cook."
    "Good afternoon, Jeanne. What brings you — Oh," Cook
exclaimed, spying the soiled cloak Jeanne carried. "I see Her
Ladyship has been traipsing through muddy sections of town
again."
    "Yes. She came back with another satchel full of
books."
    Cook shook her head. "Such a waste, a lovely young
lass like her, shut up