Page 54 of Kiss Me Lady One More Time
The countess sighed. “I know almost nothing more than what his mother revealed, herself. His parents are . . . well, you saw. Heard.”
Penelope shuddered.
“They are controlling.” Hope’s mouth turned down. “Can you imagine growing up in such cold, dismissive atmosphere? I know he spent as much time as possible at his uncle’s house, where he was met with warmth and caring. But there was tension about the relationship. I get the impression that he had to be careful, to balance it all.” She sighed again. “I feel for him.”
“I was soangryat him yesterday,” Penelope bit out. “He practically told me to look elsewhere for a husband, right there in front of you all. And then she arrived, and I was just . . . sad for him.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “And now I’m just . . . confused.”
The countess reached over and grasped her hand. “Penelope, remember what I told you. The good men often require real effort. Don’t give up on him. Not yet.”
The carriage slowed and Hope sat back. “We’re home. Let’s see if the men are here.”
The gentlemen were not at home, in fact, but a visitor arrived not long after they settled in the parlor to wait.
“Mrs. Caradec!” Hope looked truly pleased as she welcomed the young woman with a warm hug instead of a curtsy. “How glad I am to see you. I hoped you would come, yourself.”
“It’s grand to see you too, my lady. I bring you greetings from . . . oh, everyone! Everyone at Half Moon House, it seemed, asked me send word.” She grinned and looked younger still. “And I am to tell you especially that the chop house at Lincolns Inn is doing a brisk business.” She lowered her tone. “We had to order more tokens.”
Hope flushed with pleasure and Penelope wondered what it was all about. She didn’t have time to wonder long, however, as the countess brought her forward to make the introductions.
“I sent to Half Moon House, and asked Hestia Wright for help, to discover if you are right and we are being followed. Mrs. Caradec is the perfect choice. She knows London like no one else, and she has a network of street urchins who can discover anything and assist in watching . . . things.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Caradec. May I ask, are you related to the artist of the same name, by chance?”
The other woman lit up. “Indeed, I am! He is my husband. He will be gratified that you know of him.” She made a face. “That is, he will be, if I can remember to tell him, when he finally comes out of his latest artistic frenzy.” She took the seat the countess indicated. “His latest obsession is painting scandalous women through the ages.”
Hope bit back a laugh.
“Oh, yes. Cassandra, Joan of Arc, Nell Gwynn, Wollstonecraft. And you can guess who he means to be the crowning portrait of the collection.”
“And how does Hestia feel about such a singular honor?”
“I think she is equal parts thrilled and horrified.”
“Well, I cannot wait to see what he accomplishes.” Hope started to rise. “Shall I ring for tea?”
“No.” Mrs. Caradec grew serious. “Not yet. Let’s discuss your . . . situation, first.”
“There is a situation, then.” Hope glanced over at Penelope. “We thought so.”
“Yes. And it is more complicated than you suspected.”
Penelope exchanged looks with Hope again.
“You are indeed being followed,” Mrs. Caradec declared. “By two separate individuals.”
“What?” Hope gasped.
“Not just by the young, blonde girl?” Penelope asked, blinking.
“The girl is definitely tailing you. She’s not very good at it. My urchins mocked her shamelessly.” She raised her brow. “But someone else is following you, as well. An older man. Nondescript—and he knows what he’s doing. As far as my network could tell, the girl was unaware of his presence.”
“Good heavens,” Hope breathed.
“Twoof them,” Penelope repeated. “Are Tensford and Sterne being followed as well, then?”
“I’d say the odds are high. We should find out.” Mrs. Caradec nodded. “I’ll set my people on it.”
“They won’t be in danger? The children?” Penelope asked. The sight of the poor street children in London had been a difficult enough thing to witness. No one in their village would have been left to eke out such a miserable existence. How much worse would it be if they were harmed in pursuit of their cause?
