“I’m in London for my uncle’s birthday celebration,” Lord Cambrough told her, “and then it’s back to Sussex after tomorrow. I’m looking forward to our meeting about the marriage settlements. You’ll be there, of course.”
“Oh, of course I’ll be there, Henry. I have everything well in hand. I’m looking forward to it, too.” The pitch of Miss Woodville’s voice had gained a strained half octave. “And I’m looking forward to your wedding, too.”
“I was nearby and thought I’d pop in to see if I could find another silly little china pig for Felicity’s collection. You know how much she loved the last one I gave her.”
Cambrough sounded charmingly besotted with Miss Woodville’s sister.
“What a sweet idea. I do hope you find one. She will adore it.” Ginny sounded rushed and rote.
There fell what could only be described as an awkward pause.
“What bringsyouto London, Ginny?” Cambrough asked Ginny brightly.
“I’m lodging at an exclusive little boardinghouse called the Grand Palace on the Thames. I’m here to attend to a bit of official family business. I’ll be back in Sussex soon.”
“Ah. Well, that sounds grand. I thought you might like to know that Balfort is in London for a few days, too. I just serendipitously encountered him at White’s. I know he would want me to extend his warmest felicitations. He spoke very fondly of you.”
Who the devil was Balfort, and why was he warmly thinking of Miss Woodville? Marchand immediately wanted to know.
But Ginny blanched. “Well. I should like to see Francis soon, too.” She said this almost weakly.
Francis, was it?
The elegant matron was next to him again. She was inspecting a bowl.
Marchand leaned toward her and whispered something to her. He surreptitiously produced a one-pound note.
She nodded just once, very subtly, and took the note.
Just as Lord Cambrough asked the fatal question.
“So who are you out with today, Ginny?”
Miss Woodville merely beamed at Henry as if she hadn’t heard him.
Whereupon Lord Cambrough swiveled his head this way and that about the shop, struggling to connect someone in it to Ginny.
His questing gaze collided with Marchand’s.
The boy blinked, frowned darkly, and returned his attention to Ginny, his brow furrowed with almost comical alarm.
“You’re not... surely you’re not... are you herealone?” He delivered the last word on a hush, as though it were an epithet. He followed it with a nervous little laugh, in case she found the very notion insulting.
“Oh no.” Ginny laughed merrily. “No, no, no, no, no. Certainly not. Can youimagine?”
Cambrough’s eyebrows were decidedly worried now. “I find that I cannot.”
Ginny cleared her throat. “Well, as it so happens, I’m wiiiith...”
She made the word last so long Henry was compelled to lean forward in suspense.
“Mrs. Tuffet,” the matron interjected as she strode over to them, Marchand’s pound note payment tucked out of sight into the wrist of her glove. “I’m Miss Woodville’s neighbor, Lord Cambrough, and she was kind enough to accompany me to London, as we both had business here. Isn’t that thoughtful of her! It’s madness for young women to travel alone, don’t you think? And I’m terribly sorry to rudely interrupt, but wereallymust be going at once, Miss Woodville, or we’ll be late to our soiree. It’s a pleasure to meet you, albeit so briefly, Lord Cambrough.”
“Oh! A pleasure to meet you, too, Mrs. Tuffet, was it?” Henry was confused yet visibly relieved.
Marchand watched as Miss Woodville strode out of the shop arm in arm with a woman she’d seen for the first time twenty seconds ago.
“Thank you, once again, for the rescue, Mr. Marchand. You’re a very resourceful man.”