blushed. âBut youâll find out soon enough. Youâll meet a handsome young manâmaybe even next week at the ballâand youâll fall madly inââ
âDo you think Damaris and Freddy will have arrived in town yet?â
Abby gave her a sharp glance, but accepted the change of subject. âDamarisâs last letter said they expected to arrive in London today or tomorrow, so they might have, yes.â
âOh, good. I canât wait to see her. Her letters from Venice contained some beautiful sketchesâit seems like a magical place. I wonder if Iâll ever get to see it.â
âJaneââ
But Jane didnât want to talk about falling in love, which was all Abby talked about these days. âWatch out,â she said, pulling Abby back as a curricle whizzed past them. âYouâre not in the country now, Abbyâwe have traffic in London, remember.âThey crossed the street and mounted the front steps of Lady Beatriceâs house, where Jane and Daisy still lived.
Max, on his marriage to Abby, had rented a town house around the corner. Heâd offered to house Daisy and Jane there as well, but Lady Beatrice had objected strongly. âStealing my gels? Losing Abby and Damaris to you and Freddy is bad enough. Whatâs wrong with newlyweds todayâdonât you
want
privacy?â Delivered with a gimlet stare magnified by her favorite lorgnette.
Abby and Max hadnât argued. And Freddy, taking the hint, had also arranged the hire of a town house for the season, within easy walking distance of Berkeley Square.
The front door opened silently before Jane could even reach for the bell. Featherby, their butler, placed a white-gloved finger over his lips in mysterious fashion and stood back to let them in.
Daisy was sitting on the stairs, halfway up. âDaisy?â Jane began.
â
Sssh!
â Daisy made extravagant shushing gestures. Jane and Abby exchanged glances. What on earth was going on?
Featherby, tapping his finger against his lips to reinforce the need for silence, pointed to the door to the drawing room, which was ajar. Voices wafted out. Lady Beatrice and a male visitor. Nothing unusual there. So why were Daisy and Featherby behaving so mysteriously?
âWhatââ Jane began.
â
Shhh!
â Daisy made fierce, emphatic gestures, beckoning to Jane to come up and to be quiet.
Mystified, Jane obeyed. Featherby stepped in front of the sitting room door, blocking them from the sight of the unknown visitor while Jane and Abby slipped past and hurried silently up the stairs.
âWhatâs going on?â Jane whispered.
âSit down and listen!â Daisy tugged her down beside her on the stairs. âItâs about you.â
Jane sat. So did Abby. The three girls leaned against the rails, listening intently to the voices coming from the drawing room.
The man, whoever he was, was talking about himself. âOf course, you know my family and my circumstances, Lady Beatrice, and naturally my eligibility is not in doubtââ
Eligibility?
âWhatâs he talking about?â Jane whispered.
âHeâs making an offer for you,â Daisy whispered back.
âFor
me
?â Jane squeaked. She turned and stared at Daisy. âWho is he?â
âLord Cambury.â
Jane gave her a blank stare. â
Who?
â
âLord Cambury. He came to the literary society a couple of times.â
Jane shook her head, none the wiser.
âLittle fat bloke. Thirty-three or so. Natty dresser. Balding.â Daisy mimed a comb being dragged across a scalp and Jane suddenly remembered. Lord Cambury.
Lord
Cambury?
There must be some mistake. He couldnât possibly be offering for her. Sheâd barely exchanged a dozen words with the man.
She leaned closer to hear the conversation coming from the drawing room.
But Featherby, who had been hovering casually near the drawing room door,