Page 155 of Harpy of the Ton
They crossed the road to the inn. The door opened to reveal a woman in a neat blue gown with a crisp apron, flame-red curls peeking out from beneath a lace cap.
“Mr. Trelawney! Such a pleasure to see you again.” She cast her gaze over Lawrence, showing no sign that she’d noticed his lack of cravat, his frayed jacket, or the scuffs on his boots. “You’ve brought a friend?”
“This is Mr. Baxter,” Trelawney said. “The finest garden designer in England.”
“Praise indeed, for a man usually so prudent in distributing compliments,” she said.
“Except when it comes to your lemon cake, Mrs. Folds.”
“You’re too charming for your own good, Mr. Trelawney,” she said. “Now, shall I take you to the parlor? Mrs. Trelawney’s already arrived—she’s been here twenty minutes.”
“Wonderful!” Trelawney said. “Less time at the shops is always good news for my pocket.”
“Mr. Trelawney, if I didn’t know you were jesting, I’d turn you over my knee!” Mrs. Folds replied. “How dear Mrs. Trelawney puts up with your teasin’, I don’t know. It’ll serve you right if she’s ordered from every shop in the street. She’s brought a basket with her, filled with all sorts of things. Jewelry, bolts of silk—more ribbons than I’ve ever seen!”
Ribbons…
Bella loved ribbons—her beautiful eyes had smiled with love as he related the story about how he’d wooed her with an array of pink ribbons.
But that story had been a lie.
Fuck—what an utter bastard I am.
Mrs. Folds chattered on while she led them to a parlor overlooking a garden with a pond that sparkled in the sunlight.
Mrs. Trelawney sat beside the window, her face in profile, a serene smile on her lips.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Mrs. Trelawney—your husband’s here,” Mrs. Folds said. “And his friend. Shall I have tea brought in now?”
Mrs. Trelawney turned her head slowly, and as she met Lawrence’s gaze, her eyes narrowed for a moment before she smiled.
“Yes, of course, Mrs. Folds,” she said. “My husband has spoken of nothing but your lemon cake this past week.”
“Very good, ma’am. I’ll be back directly.”
Mrs. Folds curtseyed, then exited the parlor.
Lawrence approached Mrs. Trelawney, hands outstretched. “A pleasure to see you again,” he said. “I—”
Before he could continue, she strode toward him and slapped him across the face. “You blackguard!”
Lawrence stepped back, rubbing his cheek.Bloody hell, that hurt!
“Alice!” Trelawney said. “What are you about?”
“You should be askinghimthat.” She jabbed a finger at Lawrence’s chest, and he flinched in anticipation of another blow.
“Alice, we spoke about this,” Trelawney said. “Lady Arabella’s back where she belongs. Why should you care? You never liked her.”
“I never liked Lady Arabella,” she replied, “butBellawas a completely different woman. I didn’t even recognize her.”
“She was the same woman,” Trelawney said.
“I can see the likenessnow, Ross,” she huffed. “When a familiarity is pointed out, it becomes obvious, and you wonderwhy you missed it. But at the time, she was different enough not to be recognized.”
“Why didn’t you recognize her?” Lawrence asked.
She raised her eyebrows.
