Free Gather Ye Rosebuds by Joan Smith

buried Grandmama. I hope we do find Barry’s money, for you will need every penny of it to nab a husband.”
    “It is too late to change now,” I said crossly, and went downstairs with my confidence in tatters. It requires confidence to carry off a new and different style. I feared I looked ridiculous, and wished I had not worn the shroud, but was too stubborn or proud to change.
    A very elegant-looking female stopped and turned around to examine me as we crossed the lobby. Her expression was not one of mirth, but of interest. The little incident brought my confidence back. When Lord Weylin came toward us, I met him with my head high, and a civil smile on my face.
     
     

Chapter Eight
     
    I was aware of Lord Weylin’s eyes examining me in a way they had not bothered to do before. His face wore an impassive, polite smile, but the eyes betrayed at least a latent interest in me as a woman. They lingered a moment on my black hair, before moving slowly to my eyes, and lips. I think it was the “shroud” that first caught his attention. Borsini describes it as “clinging to the womanly outlines of the body.” But Weylin was too polite to let his gaze rest on my anatomy.
    “Ladies, may I compliment you both on looking particularly lovely this evening,” he said, with a bow.
    He took my arm as well as Mama’s to lead us to his private parlor. “I have ordered wine and looked over the menu,” he said, “but have waited for you before ordering. The burgundy—or perhaps champagne. Champagne goes with any viands.” His warm gaze suggested the champagne was a complement to my gown.
    Mama said, “You are extravagant, milord! Champagne!” as if we had never tasted this rarity. We had an excellent wine cellar when Papa was alive.
    Not wishing to ally myself with her provincial sentiment, I examined the menu and chose the sole, with chicken to follow.
    Mama said, “That sounds good,” and had the same thing. Lord Weylin urged lobsters and crab and I don’t know what all on us, but eventually settled for the sole and roast beef himself.
    When the wine was poured, he raised his glass and said, “To our success. May we all leave here richer.”
    Even in that I spied out a compliment. It was the way he said it, with a secret smile at me. That smile suggested there were other sorts of riches than gold and diamonds.
    “To our success,” I repeated, and we all drank.
    The auspicious beginning made no progress after the first glass of champagne. Once we had our fish before us, we reverted to discussing business.
    I said, “I was wondering, Lord Weylin, as you have come to Bishop’s Down, if this is the hotel where your aunt stayed when she was in Tunbridge.”
    “Just so. This is where she told Mama she stayed. I made inquiries as soon as I arrived, and was told she had been here several years ago, but she has not been here for five years—about the time the necklace disappeared. Yet she continued coming to Tunbridge often, much oftener than before. She only came once a year for the first five years she was with us. Later on, she came four times a year, at the beginning of January, April, July, and October. She was getting older, of course, and might have had more need of the chalybeate waters. Still, that regular timing is interesting.”
    Mama dropped her fork and exclaimed in a loud voice, “It certainly is! Barry used to go to London four times a year, once a season, at about those same dates.”
    Weylin stared at her with his jaw hanging slack. “Is that a fact? By God, I think we are on to something here.”
    “It is certainly a coincidence,” Mama agreed, “but I doubt it can be more than that, for they scarcely knew each other. There would be no reason to hide it if they were friends. They were both single, and free to do what they wanted, even marry.”
    “Barry took the five thousand from his bank on May the fifteenth,” I said. “That date does not coincide with the date of his visits.”
    “But he