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  "I thought perhaps a nice hot cup of tea," he said. "I would await you in the tap room."

  My hackles calmed at this bland speech. "Could we not have it here, standing by the desk?" I sug­gested.

  A superior sort of female servant, dressed all in black, was hurrying toward us. I had no idea who she might be and paid little heed till she stopped dead in front of me. "I beg your pardon, ma'am," she said very civilly. "Lady DeGrue saw you arrive and feared you were stranded, as she has taken the last parlor. She wishes me to invite you and your friend to join her."

  It was a gift from the gods, and I jumped on it. "How very kind! We shall be delighted." I smiled and turned to Paton.

  His surprise was evident, but he did not share my delight. His dark eyes wore a frustrated glitter. "Most kind," he said, and with a hand on my elbow led me off after the servant. "I didn't realize you were acquainted with Lady DeGrue."

  "You know her too?"

  "She is a friend of my aunt's," he explained.

  The first thing I noticed upon entering the cham­ber was the welcoming warmth. A fire roared at the grate, casting an orange light on Lady DeGrue and her charge, Miss Bonham. They sat at a round table with a pot of tea and a plate of bread and butter in front of them. Lady DeGrue wore an enormous feathered bonnet, a lace fichu not unlike my own, and a woolen shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her niece looked much less grand in a plain gown and round bonnet. She looked pale and subdued, as she had the other evening at the Upper Rooms. I noticed her mien brightened somewhat when she looked at Lord Paton. She had an eye for the gentlemen, then, despite her prissy ways.

  Lady DeGrue said to her servant, "Two more cups, Waxon, and we shall require more hot water." Then she nodded severely at myself and Paton. "Miss Nesbitt, Paton."

  I curtsied, he bowed, the dame continued speak­ing. "I spotted you darting in from your rig. A pity you were caught in the rain. You ought to know better than to take a lady out in an open carriage in this season, Paton. Set Miss Nesbitt by the fire, Is­abel."

  "So very kind of you," I said.

  Miss Bonham rose and smiled vaguely halfway between Paton and myself. I drew a chair as close to the fire as Lady DeGrue's chair permitted. She was backed against it and soaked up most of its warmth. The room was so small, however, that it heated the entire space with no difficulty.

  While we waited for the cups to arrive, Lady De­Grue gave Paton a lecture on the folly of driving an open rig. "I am surprised you were lured into believ­ing a blue sky meant no rain," she said. "I never permit Miss Bonham to drive in an open rig. Of course, she is delicate. Your Miss Nesbitt is a stur­dier gel."

  "How very wise of you," Paton replied.

  "You don't reach my age without being wise. I have seen a good many ladies put into the ground due to a dowsing. And you were not even wearing a mantelet, Miss Nesbitt," she added condemningly over her shoulder.

  Miss Bonham smiled apologetically and said, "You are returning to Bath now, Miss Nesbitt?"

  "Yes, as soon as the rain lets up, we shall be on our way."

  "We have been visiting friends at Corsham Court," she said.

  "Lord Methuen." I nodded.

  "Oh, you know Methuen?"

  "I have not met him. Paton mentioned him this afternoon."

  "We all chose an ill day for a little jaunt."

  I had the feeling Miss Bonham was fishing for an explanation of what lured me out in such weather. Her aunt was less devious. I heard her demand of Paton, "Where were you and Miss Nesbitt, if you don't mind my asking?" but I did not hear his reply.

  Miss Bonham was saying, "Have you known Paton very long? I noticed he rushed to join your set at the ball the other evening. Is that where you met?"

  "No, I knew him before that. We met at a party in Bath earlier."

  "You were not acquainted before coming to Bath?"

  "No. Have you known Paton long?"

  "Long, but not well," she said. "We first met him in London some years ago. His aunt in Bath, Lady Forrest, is some connection to Lady DeGrue, not re­lated, but only connected."

  The water and cups arrived. It was very warm by the fire. My shoulders were not only dried but be­ginning to scorch. I removed to the table before I should be kippered alive. Lady DeGrue, with vast confidence but weak wrists, lifted the water jug only to the rim of the teapot and poured a great deal of water into the pot without adding any tea. She motioned to Miss Bonham, who did the pouring in a very ladylike way. It was not her fault that the liq­uid coming from the spout was very little darker than when it went in. It was hot at least, and ac­cepted gratefully. Lady DeGrue took the last slice of bread and butter herself and proceeded to devour it.

  "What a wretched tea," she complained when she had finished.

  One did not like to say that the inn no doubt had tastier fare than bread and butter and watered tea. "But what can one expect." She shrugged. "Waxon," she called toward the corner. "I believe I saw a ped­lar in the lobby. See what he is selling. If it is any­thing I would be interested in, bring him to me. And make sure you shut the door behind you. There is a wretched draft in here." The place felt like an oven.

  Waxon left. During her brief absence the dame quizzed Paton about a number of people whose names I did not recognize and asked me where Miss Potter was today.

  "She is at home," I said.

  Waxon apparently found the pedlar's wares of in­terest to her employer, for she led him in. He was a round-shouldered old fellow, dressed in dusty fus­tian. A certain aroma accompanied him.

  "Put your sack here on the table where I can see it," Lady DeGrue ordered.

  A dirty leather pouch was set on the table amidst the teacups, and the man began to draw out his goods. Needles and threads, buttons and lace and ribbons were his wares.

  "Tuppence for a packet of needles! You're mad. I'll give you a farthing for them," she asserted.

  "Oh, milady. You jest," he said, showing a set of pink gums with a few shattered teeth. "I could sell you one needle for a farthing if you have urgent need of it."

  "Idiot. What urgent need would I have for a nee­dle? Your threads, then. That blue just matches your muslin, Isabel. Its seams could do with reinforcing. I don't know how you manage to tear all your gowns apart. That blue muslin is not three years old, and already the seams are coming loose."

  "Tuppence," the pedlar said.

  He was castigated for a thief and a knave, and offered two farthings. The poor man was made to empty his pack item by item, receiving a dozen in­sults on the shoddiness of his merchandise and the inordinate prices he was asking. And after all that, Lady DeGrue did not purchase so much as a needle or box of pins. I was happy to see Paton slipped a coin into the man's hand as he left.

  When this performance was over, Lady DeGrue drew her shawls more tightly around her and picked up her reticule. "Well, that helped to pass a very dull stop," she said. This oblique comment on our com­pany was no doubt unintentional. "A pity he smelled like a barn. I hope he buys himself a bath with that coin you gave him, Paton. You don't want to encour­age such creatures as that. Take a look out the win­dow, Waxon, and see if the rain has stopped."

  Waxon duly reported that it was nearly let up.

  "Still spitting, is it?" Lady DeGrue said, and strode to the window, where a weak and watery sun was trying to fight through the clouds. "There is nothing else for it, Miss Nesbitt. You will have to come home in my closed carriage."

  Paton glanced at the window and said, "The rain has stopped."

  "It will start again e'er long," Lady DeGrue in­formed him. "You will not want to expose Miss Nes­bitt to such weather. Next time take your closed carriage, and you should have worn a pelisse, Miss Nesbitt. There is no point defying the weather. Miss Potter would never forgive me, nor would I forgive myself, if you took a chill. No need to thank me, Paton," she said, turning to my escort. "I know you will insist on paying for tea. You bucks are all alike, so thoughtful. Come along, Isabel. Miss Nesbitt, do you want
a corner of my shawl?"

  I declined the shawl, but was not ungrateful for the drive in the closed carriage.

  Lady DeGrue looked closely from Paton to myself and said, "You two will want a moment's privacy to arrange your next meeting. We shall be in the lobby. Do not keep us waiting long, Miss Nesbitt. My niece has weak lungs."

  The party swept out with a fine flurry of shawls and I turned to Paton. "Nosy old biddybody," he scowled.

  "I shall go with her all the same. I should have worn a pelisse. Thank you for the outing. It was— interesting."

  He bowed gracefully. "It was my pleasure. Thank you for obliging me."

  No attempt was made to arrange our next meet­ing. I joined Lady DeGrue at a speed that not even that high stickler found fault with. We went to the carriage. It was soon clear that the ladies had com­pared notes during the moment I was absent. As soon as the door was closed, Lady DeGrue began a quizzing.

  "Isabel tells me Paton is a fairly new acquain­tance, Miss Nesbitt. You have known him only since arriving in Bath?"

  "Yes, for a few weeks now."

  "He is an excellent parti, of course, very high in the stirrups, and comes from good stock. I congrat­ulate you. I dare say you never expected to nab a duke's son."

  "I do not expect to nab Paton," I said.

  "Very proper. Till he asks you, you must not ex­press the notion that he is caught in Parson's mouse­trap. Nothing is likelier to make a man turn tail and run."

  "No, truly! We are just friends."

  "Ho, sly minx! As if a well-bred young lady like yourself would go jauntering around the countryside on no more surety than that." Her calculating glance turned to Isabel. "That is how a lady nabs a gentle­man, Isabel. You are too backward. You scarcely said boo to Paton at dinner last week, and here he was ripe for the plucking. We must make a harder push to find you a parti. I cannot go rattling about to balls and routs forever."

  Isabel cast a shy smile at me.

  I wanted to dispel the idea that Paton and I were close friends and said, "It happened Lord Paton had to look into a small property nearby that he has inherited. He invited me to accompany him on the drive."

  "That would be Angelina's lovenest." Lady DeGrue nodded blandly. "The little Tudor cottage with roses at the door?"

  Apparently Lady DeGrue found nothing amiss with this outing. I was shocked, and did not bother to conceal it.

  "Did you not know?" she asked, nose quivering for news.

  "The subject did not arise."

  "He has turned her off, never fear. We were all wondering whether he has found a new light o' love, or had decided to marry. His papa, the dear duke, has been at him this age to settle down. He would like to see a grandson before he sticks his fork in the wall. There is no word of a new lightskirt, and as he and you are so famously close ..."

  Further protestations proved vain. She had de­cided I was Paton's betrothed, and as it was clear that was the only reason she had befriended me, I protested no more. But the awful idea was forming that he had taken me to Angelina's lovenest for a quite different reason.

  "Paton is making a mighty long stay in Bath. Now we know why," she finished archly.

  "He is attending to some properties for his aunt. They are building a set of apartments," I informed her.

  "That will be more gold lining for his pockets before long. His aunt is seventy if she's a day. I was still making the rounds when she made her bows. You must come to call on Isabel one day," she de­clared as we approached Bath.

  Though hardly ideal, Lady DeGrue and Miss Bonham were the first respectable acquaintances I had made in Bath, and I expressed mild pleasure at this notion.

  We returned by a different route than Paton had taken out of the city. We had descended well into the heart of town before I realized it. "I think we have passed my house," I exclaimed when I noticed the error.

  "Where do you live?" Lady DeGrue asked. Her niece, though a fully mature lady at least as old as myself, seldom spoke until spoken to.

  "On Lampards Street."

  "Ah, way up on top of the hill. My poor nags will never make it. I take this circuitous path to avoid the steeper inclines. You should move closer to the heart of the city, Miss Nesbitt. It will be best if we let you off on Milsom Street, where you can easily hire a cab. Give Isabel your address before you leave, and we will drop you a note to let you know when you may call on us."

  A grim, yellow-toothed smile accompanied this piece of condescension. Not eager to display my in­ferior abode, I kept my tongue between my teeth and thanked Lady DeGrue before leaving her carriage. She sent Waxon to find me a cab, then I was let down.

  During the steep haul up the downs, I reviewed my afternoon outing. It had begun well enough, but overall I was not happy with it. The destination, upon consideration, seemed extraordinarily inappro­priate. It was bizarre that Paton offered me a cottage rent free. I had first taken it for a nobleman's pa­tronage to an aspiring writer. But for a bachelor to offer it to a spinster—that added a new flavor, one that I found bitter.

  Was I imagining that it was his intention to re­place Angelina with me? Surely to God he did not take me for such a depraved creature! Yet we had met under less than auspicious circumstances at a party where Annie and I were, in fact, the only real ladies in the room. And I had hardly looked the part in that idiotic turban that kept falling askew. With Mrs. Speers's uncertainty over my name, he had taken me for a dashing divorcee. When I considered that he knew I should have been in mourning for a recently deceased father, my shame was complete.

  Reviewed in this new light, I realized that during the visit the conversation had taken some highly questionable turns. All that talk of fallen women and the impossibility of their finding a husband. "Godwin did not believe in the sacraments— baptism, marriage ..." Of course I had loudly and instinctively expressed my outrage. And very shortly after, Paton had lost all interest in me.

  The wretch had taken me to Angelina's cottage to try his hand at seducing me. A cottage, with a house­keeper and a carriage thrown in, all the perquisites usually bestowed on a man's mistress. Including a little lovenest discreetly removed from town. He took me for a lightskirt! No other conclusion was possible.

  I was ready to burst with annoyance. Even at the inn at Corsham he still hoped to seduce me. It was a room he was after, a bedchamber, not a parlor. I thanked my old opponent, Fate, for having sent Lady DeGrue to forestall any more unpleasantness. Her friendship must have convinced Paton that I was thoroughly respectable, barring my abode and lack of mourning. He had no way of knowing how super­ficial was the acquaintance.

  And now, if I judged Lady DeGrue accurately, she would be whispering to her crones that Miss Nesbitt had caught Lord Paton. It would not be long before the rumor found its way back to him. I felt helpless to prevent this comical disaster. There was nothing I could do. And really, it served Paton right. My humor was restored by the time the carriage reached Lampards Street.

  "Did you have a nice outing?" Annie asked ea­gerly.

  "It was different," I assured her. Should I tell An­nie? She read me enough lectures without handing her that extra fuel on a platter. I made much of having met Lady DeGrue, and very little of Angeli­na's cottage.

  "Will he be calling again?" she asked.

  "Perhaps. He did not mention a specific day or time. And what have you been doing all afternoon, Annie?"

  Arthur had been to call. A recital of his various utterances passed the time till dinner, and in the evening, he was to take us to a concert. I wondered if Lord Paton would be in attendance.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  Had I been asked to name the three people I wished least to encounter that evening, it would have been Lord Paton, Geoffrey Nesbitt, and Lady DeGrue, in that order. Fate repaid me for her afternoon's defeat by casting two of the three into my path at the con­cert.

  To make up for the lack of Cousin Geoffrey, she threw in a substitute in the person of Lady Forrest
, Paton's septuagenarian aunt. The concert itself was bad enough, consisting as it did of an Italian tenor singing madrigals, accompanied by the violin. The only relief from this was a few of Mozart's louder works pounded out on the pianoforte by a gentleman with two wooden hands and a tin ear. I was in the mood for a set of waltzes, or some light play music, perhaps from The Beggar's Opera.

  "Shall we slip out while the slipping is good?" Pep­per suggested at the intermission.

  Having paid the penalty, I was strongly inclined to grasp the reward and mix with the throng for tea. That is where the mischief occurred. We were no sooner at a table than Lady DeGrue and Miss Bonham landed in on us. She ha s more than one trick to get her tea without expen se. I later learned her most common one is to wait till she sees an acquaintance with the tea already laid, then she sits down unin­vited and takes her refreshment gratis.

  "Miss Nesbitt!" she hollered across the room. "And Miss Potter. No need to thank me for delivering your charge home safe and sound." She smiled at Annie. "I was delighted to do it for you."

  It was news to me that I resided on Milsom Street, but I had to pretend to be grateful. Annie asked, "Who the devil is that?" but as soon as I reminded her, she said all that was proper. By that time Lady DeGrue and Miss Bonham had slid onto the extra chairs. The latter looked apologetic, the former ex­amined Pepper through her lorgnette and apparently did not count on his having the manners to invite her to take tea.

  She collared a servant and demanded more cups herself. "And a fresh pot, mind. We don't want to drink hot water." She turned back to Annie. "There is no counting on them to have the wits to bring a fresh pot. Miss Nesbitt will tell you what a paltry tea Paton served us this afternoon." She turned her lorgnette in my direction. "And where is Paton this evening? Slipped the leash, has he, sly dog?"

  "I have no i— "

  She had been scanning the room and found him. "Ah, there he is with Agatha. He has dragged his poor aunt out for a night's frolic. With her gouty knees, she ought to be allowed to stay home. I see how it is." She smiled archly at me. "He could not stay away from you, Miss Nesbitt."