A Fine Passion (Bastion Club 4)
With that parting shot, she swept behind the screen.
Celestine followed on her heels. “Cherie, I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s useful that I heard of the rumors so soon.” With a wave, Clarice urged the assistant to hurry and unlace the gown. “I’ll take this incidentally. Send it to Benedict’s. I’ll return tomorrow morning to see what else you have.”
Celestine sighed. “It was not you hearing those two beldames that I was apologizing for.”
In the mirror, Clarice met Celestine’s eyes. “What, then?”
“Why, that I mentioned the green satin.” Celestine shifted to glance out at the salon. “Those two have departed, but there are six others here who heard and saw. If you wish to quash this rumor, then you must try on the green satin, no?”
It was Clarice’s turn to sigh. “Yes, you’re right.” She dipped her shoulders, wriggled them, then straightened; the plum silk gown slithered down to puddle at her feet. Interesting; at least she felt sure Jack would think so. “Bring on the forest green satin, then I really must go.”
As usually occurred with any gown Celestine specifically recommended, the forest green satin became her admirably, so the time spent in trying it on could not be counted a real loss.
But she’d spoken truly; she did know all there was to know about gossip within the ton. She might have temporarily gagged two of the foremost practitioners, but that wouldn’t be the end of it. If Grimwade and Raleigh had heard the news, others would have, too. No one seeded a rumor in just one ear. The situation called for immediate and decisive action.
Further, Grimwade’s gloating over “that horrible woman’s” downfall, strongly suggested that her stepmother, Moira, had not grown more lovable or well respected with the years.
The defense of the family might well fall to Clarice. She was clearly going to have to do her part and go out into the ton, which meant her new gowns would be as essential as armor on a battlefield. Nevertheless, as soon as she decently could, she left the salon and descended the stairs to the street.
No more excuses, no more procrastination. Even if Melton was still abed, she’d simply order him dragged from it and make him listen.
She sincerely hoped he wasn’t suffering the aftereffects of a night on the town.
One of the assistants had hurried down to hold the door for her; smiling absentmindedly, Clarice stepped out onto the pavement. She paused for an instant, her eyes adjusting to the glare of the bright sunshine.
“There you are, luv. We’ve been waiting for you.”
She blinked, and nearly stepped back, but the door was directly behind her. Before her, on either side, not quite but almost hemming her in, stood two large men. Their clothes declared them workmen, not gentlemen. What on earth were they doing in Bruton Street?
Why on earth did they think they were waiting for her?
“I’m afraid you’ve made some mistake.”
One of the men smiled and opened his mouth—
“Clarice?”
Turning her head, she saw Jack striding up from the corner. He was focused on the two men and didn’t look pleased.
She smiled reassuringly and waved; she turned back in time to see the two men exchange a look. Then the one who’d been about to speak touched the brim of his cap. “You’re right, miss. Looks like a mistake. If you’ll excuse us.”
The other touched his cap, too, and hurried around her. The pair strode off in the opposite direction to Jack. They reached a corner, and turned, disappearing from view.
She raised her brows, then turned to greet Jack as he came up.
He was scowling after the two men. “Who the devil were they?”
“I have no clue. They were waiting for someone and mistook me for her…” Hearing her own words, she realized the unlikelihood, or rather the impossibility. She glanced up at Jack.
The look he bent on her was disbelieving. A touch patronizing, too.
“Regardless, we don’t have time for that.” Grasping his arm, she steered him around. “I take it you got my note.” She’d left a note of her whereabouts with the concierge just in case Jack needed to speak with her. “Unfortunately, matters have deteriorated. News of the allegations is out. Rumors are already spreading.” She drew breath and determinedly lifted her chin. “I have to go and beard my brother.”
Jack glanced at her, at the angle of her chin, and swallowed the acid words burning his tongue; now was not the time to lecture her on the dangers that lurked on even the most fashionable streets. He could quiz her about the two men later and check with Deverell over whether seizing women off the streets had become more prevalent in recent years. Now, however…“I’ll come with you.”
She shot him a sidelong glance, then looked ahead and walked on.