“Those old hags have never actually been of much help to the new charges,” Garrett complained after stealing one of the muffins that Winnie had intended to place on one of the trays.
She swatted jokingly at his hand. “Don't call them hags. You sound like Kent when you say that,” she lectured. The only time Winnie ever resembled their mother was when she was lecturing Garrett about Kent.
He opened his mouth to again tell his sister that Kent was not so bad as she liked to think, when he noticed the small jar of honey that she was placing on one of the trays. “You don't take honey in your tea,” Garrett told her. He was unable to imagine why his focus was quite so intent on that little jar. His heart seemed to know something that his head did not yet grasp as it beat faster and harder, the longer that he looked at the tray of tea and honey.
“No, of course not, but one of the Wellings twins does. She is very partial to it in her tea. Since she was ill last night, I made sure that we got some fresh honey in this morning, to help cheer her up. When you dropped me off at the inn two nights ago, mother was going on about the little bottle of honey that Katherine takes with her everywhere, just in case her host doesn't have any honey on hand. Mother was quite amused by it, so I've tried to remember her preference whenever the servants are taking a tray up to her. It's just so odd to take honey with tea,” Winnie said as she wrinkled her nose at the thought.
It seemed like too much of a coincidence that the woman he had come to London to search for might be only a couple of floors above him, sleeping in his family's townhouse. But as he considered the evidence it became more unlikely that it wasn't her. He thought back to that night and what little he remembered about the woman that he had kissed.
He had been slightly drunk at the time, after visiting the tavern. He had chosen that particular tavern due to its proximity to the inn that he and his family were staying at. The woman must have been a traveler, because any woman from town would have known about the taverns and would have kept clear of that particular alleyway, especially after dark. And exactly how many women who took their tea with honey could have been walking those streets that night?
But he had to confirm his suspicions before approaching either of the girls. He had to know if she was the one that he was after. “I think I might have seen the Wellings when I rode by the party last night,” Garrett began, thinking back to the scrap of purple velvet he had found on the floor of the alley when she had fled from him. It still rested in the bottom of his coat pocket where he had saved it as a strange keepsake. “One of the girls was out walking with a long purple cape.”
Winnie frowned at her brother. “If you were in town last night why didn't you stop by? I was here alone all night and I could have used some company.”
“I had to stop by Kent's place,” Garrett admitted. Winnie turned her back to him as she gathered some of the other items for breakfast. “Well,” he prodded, “was that her in the purple cloak?”
Shaking her head at her brother's betrayal, Winnie seemed to be thinking about all of the things she should say to her brother about his dear friend Kent, but she decided that he wouldn't care. Instead of fighting with her brother, Winnie grasped one of the trays and started walking past him to set it on the dumb waiter. “Yes I'm sure it was Katherine that you saw. She's the one who takes honey in her tea. I haven't seen many other women wearing such brightly colored walking cloaks in London, they get dirty too easily,” Winnie said.
Garrett lifted the other tray for his sister, Katherine's tray, he realized and his thumb brushed the small jar of honey. He set it gently beside the other one and worked the pulley system for his sister so that she did not have to ask one of the servant's help as they were already busy preparing for the lavish tea and cakes that would be served later in the day.
“I heard that there is another dance tomorrow night at the Buckman's. Will they be attending it?” he tried to ask casually, as his mind plotted what his next move should be.
“Yes, why? Do you plan on going to the dance?” she asked skeptically.
“No Win, I was just asking.” he answered before kissing her forehead and rushing his sister on to complete her duties as hostess.
“If you aren't going to the Buckman dance, then you should come here tomorrow night instead of to your friend's house. I think Kent is having more of a negative effect on you than he usually does.” She said, frowning at his large and rather scheming smile. Before she could nag him further, Garrett reminded his sister of the hungry charges upstairs and turned, leaving the room quickly.
After she had left he followed quietly behind her and hid upstairs in the library, which was right across the hall from the room that his mother kept her charges in. Then Garrett took up a chair next to the door. Listening carefully he waited for nearly two hours before hearing the women leave their room as they went to greet Winnie in the parlor to wait for his mother's guests to arrive. Opening the door and peeking around the corner, he saw only the backs of their two dresses, their light brown hair tied up in similar fashions and a fresh red rose sticking out of one girl's hair.
One of them walked too confidently to be the woman that he had kissed. Her hips swaying in a sultrier manner than he remembered and his eyes fixed on the other woman instead. Her pace was less assured as her fingers fluttered nervously to her hair checking to see that it was still tightly held by a series of pins. A sense of recognition hit deep inside of him and Garrett crept over to their room after the two had disappeared from sight.
Once inside he looked through the closet and found the purple cloak. Setting it on the bed he ran his hands along the hem, looking for a torn hole that would match the swatch that he had found the other night. His breath caught as he found the spot and compared the two, finding them to be the exact shape and size. Carefully he returned the cloak to the closet as he listened below for any signs that the small gathering was drawing to a close.
Garrett's first instinct was that he had to see her. A part of him demanded to see her right now, to wait upstairs for her to return, but he brushed it away as being too impatient. He could wait for the right time and his chance to catch her off guard later.
Taking out a quill, ink pot and paper from the desk, Garrett tried to think of what to write and how he could meet with her. He was suddenly reminded of Kent's intentions to pursue one of the Wellings twins at the Buckman's dance tomorrow night. It was the perfect place for two people to find some time to be alone he decided. Also he did not want Kent to have the first chance at meeting them and making an impression on them.
Let Kent have the other one, he thought to himself. Katherine was going to be his.
After scribbling the short note he sealed the letter and looked around for where he could set it that only she would find it. Picking up a few of the bottles on the table, he caught the familiar aroma of lavender perfume, the same scent that he had smelled on her only a couple of nights before. Setting the paper beneath the bottle, Garrett left the room, impatient for the next night's dance and another chance for a stolen kiss.
Chapter 5
Before being ushered into the sitting room for tea, Winnie pulled the Wellings sisters aside. “Don't worry,” she told her mother's two charges. “You'll both do fine.” She looked a little less certain than her words would imply as her gaze flickered to Robin. “They are a little formidable at first, but just remember; as long as you are honest about any of the things they ask you, it should be easy. After a few questions they mostly just talk about themselves anyway,” Winnie said. Opening the doors wide all three girls entered together, with Winnie taking the open seat next to her mother.
“Twins!” one of the ladies exclaimed at seeing Katherine and Robin enter. “No one told me that they were twins, and identical, no less.” She looked them over through the lenses of her spectacles that sat low on her nose making her look older than she was. Feeling slightly like an act at a circus show, Katherine hurried to her seat with Robin and sat still, allowing the women to fur
ther fuss over them as they kept quiet.
“Which one is which?” the youngest women asked Mrs. Brentley.
“Ladies I would like to introduce Ms. Katherine Wellings and Ms. Robin Wellings, my newest charges,” Mrs. Brentley said proudly.
The women asked questions about each of the girls’ hobbies and talents, to better find suitable suggestions for bachelors. “Robin shouldn't look into any of the politically minded husbands, her lack of French could be a real set back,” commented one of the women. Katherine's poor singing was also considered a problem that could hurt her chances with men who frequently entertained, but they assured her that being able to play the piano and harp sufficiently would make up for such defects. Soon enough the women turned to the newest gossip that they could share about the season thus far.
Most of the names mentioned over the next hour were men that Katherine and Robin had met the night before. Oliver Buckman was a favorite of the ladies who seemed to overlook his lack of wits and looks. Some had even heard that his father had not been doing well over the last year which was considered to be a good thing. Oliver would become very rich were the old man to die. Another insisted that she had seen Mr. Buckman only a day before and that he was in great health and would be attending the dance that he was throwing for his son the next night.
Katherine watched the discussions, quite happy to remain quiet, and for the most part unseen. Some bits of information could even be helpful to her, including a list of the men prone to become very drunk at public events, of which a few Lords and Dukes were mentioned.
Robin fidgeted slightly beside her, waiting for the topic to turn to something that she was more interested in. When she realized that it was not going to, Robin changed it for them. “I was introduced to a man named Victor last night. Do any of you know him?”
For the first time since entering the room, Katherine watched as the group of women fell silent.
“We all know Victor Sullivan through his business reputation,” Mrs. Brentley replied crisply as her eyes narrowed in on Robin. “Which is a bad reputation at that. He is part of that new money circle that we were discussing earlier.” If she had hoped that the subject would then drop, she was sorely mistaken.
“He is very rich,” one of the girls added, to Mrs. Brentley's obvious distress. “Maybe one of the richest in London this year.”
“And I haven't heard of any improper personal habits, only a mistress or two,” the woman next to Robin whispered to her.
“His business deals are known for being very underhanded,” Mrs. Henst added primly, trying to support her friend in believing that his group was beneath any of Mrs. Brentley's charges.
“He is really none of our concern,” Mrs. Brentley butt in. “Robin, it would be best to put Victor Sullivan out of your mind. There are far better choices for you that we should be discussing.”
With that, the women went on to other subjects and tried to decide which men out of this year's group would fit best for each of the girls. Katherine listened intently, but she knew Robin only nodded at the times that she felt she was supposed to. Her mind was elsewhere, and Katherine had no doubt that it was being occupied by thoughts of Victor Sullivan and all of his money that no other suitor could compete with.
The gossip couldn't last too long, as the gathering had been attended by only a dozen women including Mrs. Brentley, her daughter and the Wellings twins. There was only so much that a small group could discuss before circling back to previous discussions. Katherine had been surprised to find the group of women in attendance to be much smaller than she had expected. For twenty-seven years, Mrs. Brentley had sponsored one girl into London's higher circles and Katherine had assumed that most of them would be there.
Through the babble of chatter she discovered that of the women invited, most had been unable to come for various reasons. A few were pregnant including their cousin Lucy, which became much of the gossip that was discussed later on. Some of them had moved to America, which brought a cringe from most of the women in the room. About a half dozen or so had decided to stay in the country for the season rather than travel into town.
“I can understand why,” Mrs. Henst, one of Mrs. Brentley's first charges and therefore one of the oldest ladies present, admitted. “This will be the last year that I stay in London. It takes too much energy. London is for the young.” Her advice was met with many wise nods including Mrs. Brentley, who had already told her friends that she meant to retire soon.
Katherine noticed that a few of the younger women smiled at the comment, and seemed to wonder if they too, would one day feel that way.
Mrs. Gandbell had been Mrs. Brentley's most recent charge and had just returned from a long honeymoon touring Italy. “You all returned because you know that London has its own spirit,” she said dreamily. “I know that I couldn't help but return to join in again. With all of the events and dances, there is something to do almost every night. It reminds me of the wonderful times I spent here with Mr. Gandbell before we were married. London can be quite romantic,” she added with a smile and wink for each of the twins.
When all of the biscuits and sandwiches were finished, and tea was set aside, each of Mrs. Brentley's friends took their leave, after wishing the best for both of the Wellings twins. Katherine slipped quietly upstairs to her room to read a letter from her mother and write one to her father. Being at home with only their mother to keep him company, Katherine felt sorry for her father and wished he could have come to London with her. But she knew that like her, he enjoyed a quieter life at home.
She sat down at the small vanity and pushed a few articles aside to make room for her ink well and paper, which she found in a different drawer than she remembered having placed it. Then her eye was caught by a small envelope tucked beneath one of her perfume bottles. When she lifted the delicate purple bottle aside, a whiff of the lavender perfume from within seeped out and into the air. Looking closer she noticed that the stopper had not been properly replaced, something that she could not imagine herself doing. Picking up the envelope she found that it was sealed with her name carefully written on the front in bold masculine handwriting. It was not her father's penmanship, and she wondered who else would be writing to her.
She considered asking the butler if he knew who had sent it, but he never would have delivered the note to her room. He would have handed it to her himself when she had passed him in the hall downstairs. The letter looked like it had been placed there - not by a servant, who would have left it out in the open, but by someone trying to hide it so that only she would see it. At last her curiosity won. She broke the seal and tipped the envelope until the letter fell out. Lifting the folded piece of paper Katherine noticed a torn bit of purple fabric fall onto the table, the exact color and size of the hole left in her cloak. Her hand began to shake as she unfolded the short note.
I need to see you again so that we can talk. Meet me tomorrow night at the fountain in the Buckman's garden. Come alone or I will approach you at the dance.
“What's that?” Robin asked from the doorway of their room. The frantic thumping of Katherine's heart had apparently drowned out the noise of her sister entering and she quickly folded the letter, trying to hide it.
Robin came over and took the letter from Katherine's hands, before reading it quickly. “Oh no,” she said, closing her eyes. “I thought you said that he was married.” Robin groaned as she read the note again, trying to think up a way that they could avoid Katherine meeting him again.
“Well I thought he was. He mentioned some other woman's name before he kissed me, so I believed it was his wife or something. I guess I was wrong,” Katherine said slightly defensively.
“There's no name at the bottom of the letter, what about on the envelope?”
Turning the piece over she found it blank. “No there's nothing. I guess he doesn't want me to know who he is,” Katherine said.
Robin threw the letter on the table as if it had burned her fingers, “Well I don't li
ke this at all,” she said, shaking her head. “You are not going to meet up with him tomorrow, it's too dangerous.”
“I have to go,” Katherine protested. “What if he isn't bluffing and he comes to the dance and tells everyone what happened? We can't take that kind of chance.”
“I'm going instead,” Robin decided, as if the whole matter was settled. “I'll just pretend that I'm you and I'll tell him that it was an accident; that I don't want to see him again. If he threatens to tell someone, I'll threaten to tell whoever it was that he thought you were in the first place. Hopefully that will be enough to scare him off.”
“You're going to pretend that you're me?” Katherine asked, wondering if her sister's scheme had any chance of working and if she wanted her sister talking to the man that she had kissed. She fought down the strangely possessive emotions that welled up inside.
“Even in full light people have a hard time telling us apart, if they can't see which of us has a flower in her hair. After only seeing you in the dark he'll never suspect that he's talking to the wrong one. I'll take out the flower before I talk to him and when I return you can put it back in. He'll never know,” Robin said, pleased with her plan.
“Why don't I just talk to him? I can explain everything. I'll tell him why I can't be seen with him,” Katherine offered.
It was strange to hear Robin trying to be the responsible sister. Setting her hand on Katherine's shoulder in a sympathetic manner, Robin smiled. “I'm worried you might kiss him again,” she admitted.
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