“Yes, do hurry. We ought not be rude,” said Anna, impatient to join the party in the drawing room. Her sister’s late return from the outing had precluded a private chat before the evening’s activities began. And while she was curious to hear about the day, it would have to wait. “We can talk about it when we retire for the night.”
“One of the carriages became stuck in a rut on the way back, and the one I was in stopped to help,” explained Caro. “So a number the others will be making a late entrance to the drawing room.” Looking unhappy at having to hold her tongue, she added, “You ought to know before we go down that Colonel Polianov seemed upset that you had not come. He kept dogging my steps all afternoon, asking all sorts of impertinent questions about you.”
“Indeed?” Anna’s attention snapped to full alert. Devlin had seen her nocturnal wanderings, so it was possible that Polianov had too. “How very odd. What sort of questions?”
“Oh, ones concerning your likes and dislikes, your habits. That sort of thing. I found it exceedingly odd too, especially as he’s been rather rude up until now.” Caro’s reflection in the looking glass sharpened to a speculative stare. “Yo
u must have had a reason for warning me to not to go off alone with him.”
“I was simply worried that he seemed an aggressive sort of man,” she answered, hoping to put an end to the subject. Given any encouragement, her sister’s vivid imagination could prove an impediment to the investigation. It would take some adroit handling to keep her off the scent. “His behavior was unsettling, but I think I was merely overreacting. Russians are simply…very Russian.”
“Lord McClellan’s behavior was even more unsettling. He kept staring and scowling…and trying to overhear what Polianov and I were talking about,” muttered Caro.
Yet another of Devlin’s prime suspects. The conversation was veering onto treacherous ground.
Before she could react, her sister asked, “You’ve had more worldly experience with men than we have, Josette. What’s your impression of the colonel and the baron?”
“I do not see much of the gentlemen guests,” replied the maid. “But downstairs there is always gossip. The colonel’s valet says he is a cold fish, and the house servants say Lord McClellan can be very moody.”
“It’s clear he dislikes the English,” murmured Anna. Servants often knew a great deal of intimate information about the people they served. Perhaps she could learn some useful information. “Do they give any reason why?”
“They say he has some very radical views on politics and equality for all men.”
“That must earn favor with the servants,” she mused.
Josette shrugged. “Most people do not like change, mademoiselle.”
A very keen observation. With her sharp eye and lively intelligence, the maid could be a very helpful ally, if handled with the utmost discretion, decided Anna.
Which would make it impossible for Devlin to deny the wisdom of sharing his secret and allowing her to be a partner in the hunt.
“I can’t help but be curious,” she said. “Is any other reason mentioned for Lord McClellan’s feelings for the English. It almost seems that there is a personal grudge of some sort?”
“Not that I have heard,” answered Josette. She finished threading a ribbon through Caro’s topknot and set the brush down. “Would you like me to ask?”
Yes or no?
Taking a moment to think, Anna bent down to retrieve a cast-off stocking from the carpet. Creating compelling stories was something she was very good at. This simply required a slightly different twist.
“Actually, I would,” she said softly. “I can’t help but notice Lord McClellan’s interest in my sister—”
Caro made a rude noise.
“And a lady can’t be too careful about knowing what a man is really like,” she finished. “Our mother thinks only of a title, so I feel that I must be the one to consider the man behind the trappings of privilege.”
“It is very wise to look at a man’s character as well as his purse, mademoiselle. The world can be a harsh place for those of our sex, So yes, it is important for a lady to keep her eyes open so that she may look out for herself.”
Once again Anna was grateful that her maid was so sensible and pragmatic, rather than a flighty featherhead.
The reflection in the looking glass showed Caro appeared thoughtful as she mulled over Josette’s words. Which was all well and good, mused Anna. Such advice helped temper her sister’s natural exuberance.
“Speaking of Mama,” said Caro, slowly twisting around in her chair. “She said that the carriage ride gave her a beastly headache and she means to spend the evening in bed.”
How fortuitous. Not having to contend with their mother’s ham-handed matchmaking would be one less distraction from her newfound sleuthing duties. “What a relief,” she replied with a wry smile. “I can pass the evening without fear of finding myself engaged to the prince before bedtime.”
“According to his valet, the prince is not likely to ask for the hand of an English lady,” murmured Josette. She took a moment to shift the box of hairpins. “Nor, for that matter, the hand of any lady.”
It took several ticks of the mantle clock for the maid’s meaning to sink in. “The prince does not…favor females?”