Free Byron's Child by Carola Dunn Page B

your help.”
    Jodie nodded agreement as Emily blushed. At that moment Charlotte came in, her round, pretty face blooming under a delightful bonnet of blue velvet with an artfully curled ostrich feather dyed to match.
    “What, still at table? I am ready to go out. Emily, I have received a note from my sister. She is in town; do you care to go with me to see her? Jodie, Cousin Giles, we can take you up in the barouche as far as Lady Bestor’s house, or Potter shall call a hackney if you prefer. Then, later this afternoon, Roland means to introduce you to his club, Giles, while we ladies make some absolutely essential purchases.”
    Her blue eyes sparkled at the prospect. Nor was Jodie averse to exploring the shops of the greatest city in the world. Not only was shopping fun, she pointed out to Emily as they went up to put on their bonnets, but it must surely be classified as a popular pastime, qualifying as a research topic.
    “If not the most popular,” Emily agreed.
    Hurrying into her borrowed pelisse, Jodie ran downstairs to where Giles was waiting in the hall and whispered, “I’m sorry I was unreasonable last night.”
    “I’m sorry I snapped.” He gave her a quick, entirely brotherly hug. “Tell me, how can I get out of going with Roland to his club this afternoon?”
    Jodie considered. “It is something of an honour to be invited, I collect. Roland may be shockingly offended if you do not go, at least this once.”
    “You’re the historian.” He pulled a face. “My father put me up for the Liberal Club, but I never could stand the fusty old place.”
    She grinned. “If you are expecting a fusty old place, I suspect you may be pleasantly surprised.”
    Charlotte emerged from Roland’s study and Emily pattered down the stairs. They went out to the barouche.
    It was only a few blocks to Lady Bestor’s address in Dover Street. Jodie drank in the sights on the way. She would persuade Giles to walk home, she decided, so as to investigate further. They drove round Berkeley Square and there was Gunter’s, at the sign of the Pineapple, just as she had seen it described in a dozen books. Though the second day of March was a bit chilly for eating an ice, Jodie was determined to pay the famous confectioner a visit. All in the name of research, of course.
    The barouche set them down at the door of Lady Bestor’s little house. Giles knocked. Standing on the step, Jodie wondered if they were on a wild goose chase. Dr. Brown’s letter had been totally noncommittal. She might not want to help—but then she need not have answered at all and they could never have found her. Perhaps she would be unable to help, another victim of an irreversible accident. Who was Lady Bestor? What was Lord Font’s part in all this?
    Jodie clung to Giles’s arm as they waited for the front door to open.
    Chapter Seven
    A footman opened the door. Giles gave their names and he and Jodie were ushered into a narrow hall, decorated on one side with a hunting tapestry and on the other with a family portrait overflowing with children.
    “Her ladyship is expecting you.” The footman opened another door. “Mr. and Miss Faringdale, my lady.”
    There were three people in the drawing room: an ancient lady, thin and twisted with rheumatism, sitting on a sofa; a tall, blond gentleman, standing by the window; and an elegant woman in her late twenties, with reddish-brown ringlets and green eyes, who stepped forward to greet them.
    “Good heavens, it really is you, Dr. Faringdale.” Her accent was pure New England. “Or is it ‘my lord?’” She stopped in confusion.
    “Plain mister here, Dr. Brown—Mrs. Brown. Or better just Giles. This is…my half-sister, Judith.”
    Jodie stared, also confused, then dropped a hurried curtsy. There was a moment of silence.
    “Well?” said the old lady.
    Mrs. Brown started. “Allow me to present you to Lady Bestor. And this is Harry—Lord Font.”
    The tall gentleman bowed. Jodie curtsied again,