Free Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04] by Dangerous Lady Page A

a list of what we need and bring our own things, but in the meantime—”
    “First, we want comfortable chairs,” Letty said, turning so that Jenifry could unbutton her gown. “The only one we’ve got is that pole-backed one by the window, which looks amazingly like a device from the Spanish Inquisition. For now, just fetch me a stool.”
    Jenifry chuckled, but Miss Dibble clicked her tongue. “That Catholic nonsense need not trouble us here in England, Letitia. I know your papa believes in religious tolerance. I do myself, when all is said and done, but any religion that can put its people through such dreadful ordeals as what they say the Inquisition did don’t bear thinking about in a civilized land. You just turn your thoughts to something more suitable, if you please.”
    “Well, I did not mean to discuss the Catholic question, if that’s what you mean,” Letty said. “However, considering that it’s become a major issue here in England just now, Elvira, I think you had better not say such things where others can hear you. You are bound to offend someone if you do.”
    “As if I don’t have better sense than that. If you are going to take off that gown, for heaven’s sake, be careful not to crease it. Hang it up carefully, Jenifry.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Jenifry replied. “Miss Letty, there’s a footstool by the door. I’ll draw it right up for you; then I’ll go fetch a couple of cushions for that chair.”
    “I can get the stool,” Letty said, kicking off the offending shoes and suiting action to words. Sitting in the chair, which proved to be as uncomfortable as it looked, she put up her feet with a sigh. When Jenifry returned minutes later with two cushions, she accepted them with thanks, adding, “It seems you’ve gotten to know that footman rather well in the short time we’ve been here.”
    To her surprise, Jenifry reddened self-consciously. “He’s a knowing one, miss, and quite willing to offer his advice.”
    “Most men like to do that, in my experience,” Letty said dryly, thinking instantly of Raventhorpe. “He is very handsome, too, is he not?”
    Jenifry grinned. “He is that, miss, but not as handsome as the one what took us to see the common room. You should have seen him .”
    Involuntarily both young women glanced at Miss Dibble, but she only shook her head at them, saying, “Ten minutes by my watch, Letitia. Then you simply must put your dress back on. They tell me the queen takes no more time than necessary to prepare for dinner, and you must not keep her waiting.”
    Letty did not argue. Ten minutes later she took her place on the dressing stool and let Jenifry rearrange her hair with pearls and ribbons from the dressing case woven into the ringlets. Then she got back into her gown and shoes.
    Drawing on her gloves, she picked up her lacy reticule and went downstairs, finding herself neither first nor last to return. Although no one spoke to her, she saw the young woman with whom she had conversed earlier and remembered that Sir John had addressed her as Catherine. Taller than Letty, she had hair the color of old guineas. When she saw Letty looking her way, she smiled briefly before turning to an older woman who had plucked at her sleeve.
    Shortly thereafter, Letty’s dinner partner appeared, introducing himself as Althorn, as if the brief appellation were sufficient to tell her all she needed to know about him. His air of abstraction made normal conversation impossible, and she found herself watching for Raventhorpe. When he did not appear before queen and company went into dinner, Letty felt an unexpected stab of regret.
    Dinner passed minute by crawling minute. Neither her partner nor the man on her left seemed to feel the least obligation to speak to her. After a quarter hour of finding that her conversational gambits fell on apparently deaf ears, she gave up.
    Conversation buzzed around her, for the dining table filled the long room, with no fewer than twenty-five