Sapphire

“Lady Carlisle indicated she didn’t know where Mademoiselle Toulouse had gone,” he explained.

Sapphire rose with indignation. “What a witch, that Lady Carlisle!”

“I’m sorry.” He glanced up, startled by Sapphire’s outburst.

“No, no, I’m the one who should be sorry.” She sat down again. “Aunt Lucia didn’t tell me she was expecting a gentleman. It all happened so fast and I’m responsible for—”

“I won’t hear another word of that,” Mr. Stowe interrupted, his voice surprisingly stout. “I would never speak ill of a lady, but suffice it to say fewer believe Lady’s Carlisle’s words than she thinks.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Mr. Stowe.” She studied his sincere-looking face.

“Things are said at these parties, my dear. No one believes a word of it. By next week another person will generate even more gossip and no one will remember the Dowager Wessex’s party at all.”

Mention of the dowager suddenly made her uneasy. “Lady Carlisle told you about the party?”

“Actually, I was there.”

She rose from the settee again, mortified. “You were there?”

“Yes, that’s where I met Mademoiselle Toulouse, your godmother. She’s a lovely woman,” he went on, his cheeks reddening as he grew more excited. “You know, I don’t usually invite women for rides in the park. I’m…I’m a widower, you understand.”

Sapphire nodded.

“In fact, I can say I’ve never done this before, and I don’t mind admitting, Miss Fabergine, that I’m more than a little nervous.” He began to fiddle with his hat. “I truly do…admire your godmother and I hope…heavens, listen to me, I don’t know what I’m hoping for.”

At that point Sapphire realized he was far more concerned with seeing Lucia again than with whatever nasty gossip Lady Carlisle or anyone else had offered. She relaxed a little, easing back onto the settee. “Are you certain I couldn’t get you some tea, Mr. Stowe, or perhaps some coffee? My godmother is quite fond of her coffee.”

“Is she now?” He looked up. “Why, I am, as well. I adore coffee, though it isn’t very English, is it, my dear?”

Sapphire couldn’t help but smile. Mr. Stowe truly was a pleasant fellow and she could see why Lucia would fancy such a man. “We grew coffee on Martinique.”

“Martinique!” Mr. Stowe exclaimed. “A world traveler. I just knew Mademoiselle Toulouse was a world traveler!”

“Mademoiselle Toulouse is a what?” Lucia exclaimed as she burst through the door.

The barrister shot out of his chair. Sapphire rose, pleased by the thought that the gentleman could be so enamored with Lucia. She liked him more with each minute that passed. “Auntie, Mr. Stowe came to call on you.”

“Mr. Stowe, I was beginning to wonder what had become of you,” she said, sweeping off her bonnet and ushering in a thin, dirty woman dressed in underclothing.

Mr. Stowe had eyes for no one but Lucia, but Sapphire couldn’t help but stare at the other woman, who now appeared frightened.

“This is Avena, Sapphire, our new lady’s maid,” Lucia explained. “Didn’t I tell you I’d find us a lady’s maid, and that old bat Carlisle claimed there wasn’t a decent one left in the city? I want you to take her up to the servants’ quarters and see that she has everything she needs for a bath, and then, if you don’t mind—” she plucked off a white glove, taking her time in doing it “—could you run down to the dressmaker’s and see what she has for Avena.”

“’Fank ya, mum,” Avena declared tearfully.

“While you do that, Sapphire, dear, Mr. Stowe and I will take a cup of coffee—won’t we, Mr. Stowe?” She offered her hand and he took it, kissing the freckled, wrinkled skin as if she were the queen.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he gushed, red-faced again.

“Certainly not.” Lucia led him back toward the chairs and settee, her French accent very light. “I told myself, if you could find me after our unanticipated change of lodging, Mr. Stowe, you’d be worthy of a second look. I’m so pleased you found me.”

Sapphire walked over to the young woman huddled in the doorway appearing both frightened and overwhelmed. She was afraid to ask Lucia where she’d found this “lady’s maid.” “Avena,” she said kindly, “do come in and let me show you upstairs. Would you like some tea and bread and cheese? We’ve more than enough.”

“’Fank you, miss.” Avena nodded. “This is like…like a dream come true. I got to keep pinchin’ mysef to see it’s real.”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Sapphire said as she ushered Avena to the rear of the apartments. But Lucia and Mr. Stowe never heard her, since they were already too engrossed in their private conversation.

9