downstairs entry way when Pierce, who had accompanied the family to London, regarded them askance. “You are not going out at this hour, Miss Evleen?”
“Why not? Morning is the best part of the day.”
The butler’s eyebrows shot up. “But alone? Unchaperoned?”
“Unchaperoned,” Patrick repeated, bursting into laughter.
Evleen laughed, too. “Not to worry, Pierce, I am quite accustomed to taking care of myself.”
“Might I inquire where you intend to go?”
“To see London,” Patrick called excitedly. “Come on, Evleen.”
In a flash they were out the ornately carved double doors of the Trevlyn townhouse, into the sunshine, suddenly confronted with the early-morning bustle of the street. Evleen sniffed the crisp, early morning air as they bounded down the scoured-clean steps. “You’re the chief explorer, Patrick, which way shall we go?”
“Any way. I want to see it all.” Patrick held out his palm and uncurled his fingers, revealing a gold half guinea. “See what Grandfather gave me? He said an heir apparent should never be without a bit of blunt.”
They started walking, she wasn’t sure which direction, until they reached a street called Saint James’s. Although the shops and businesses that lined the street were closed at this early hour, they still enjoyed looking into shop windows that were bright with color, as well as savoring the delicious aromas of fresh buns and tarts that wafted from the pastry shops. The diversity of the shops was intriguing. “What’s a bagnio?” Patrick asked, glimpsing a sign that announced, “Pero’s Bagnio.”
“Those are baths, I believe.”
“Can’t people take a bath at home?” he asked, but before Evleen could answer he had spied another shop. “Oh, look, Lauriere, the jeweler. Is that where they sell diamonds?”
“I suspect it is, Patrick,” she laughingly replied, “and there’s the Bunch of Grapes which I should wager is a tavern, and there’s Sam’s Library which no doubt is full of books.” How wonderful, she mused, to have a huge bookstore close by. There was nothing nearly this big in Ireland, not even Dublin.
“Why must gentlemen have clubs?” asked Patrick, after they passed by White’s, Brooks’s and Crockford’s.
“So they can play cards, I suppose.” She remembered her mother’s low opinion of the British aristocracy. “And so they can be exclusive and fancy themselves above the rest.”
“Do you think Lord Thomas belongs to a club?”
“No.” She thought of that wastrel, Montague. “But I’m sure his brother does.”
“Oh, look, Evleen, a palace.”
And so the day went. After duly admiring Saint James’s Palace, they wandered past a place called Almack’s on King Street, as well as the Golden Lion public house, where they stopped for refreshments, paid for by Patrick’s half guinea. They found the Haymarket, in which stood a grand opera house, but more exciting was the market itself with its produce of every description, performing dogs and monkeys, a fire-eater, and all manner of entertainment.
Toward the end of the day, they found themselves on a street called Piccadilly. Had they been here earlier? Evleen felt weary, her feet were tired and she began to worry. “How do we get home from here, Patrick? I cannot recollect which way we came.”
“What street does Lord Trevlyn live in?”
Heaven help us. Why had she not made note of the street the Trevlyn townhouse was on? “I don’t know the name, but we’ll find it,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel.
Lost in London. Such a big city, and so confusing. As the minutes wore on, and they kept wandering, Evleen fought back panic. She must remain calm for Patrick’s sake. “We’ll find it, so don’t worry. I do hope they haven’t missed us at home.”
* * *
With eagerness and more than a modicum of annoyance at himself, Thomas mounted the steps of Lord Trevlyn’s London townhouse. If someone were to ask why he was in London, he would say he came to London to view the horses at Tattersoll’s. He, however, knew otherwise. His concern for Evleen was such that despite himself, he could not stay away. Patrick would be fine. Thomas smiled, knowing that bright, likeable lad would get along well wherever he went, especially now, with a doting grandfather to watch over him. Those female dragons of the Trevlyn household would not dare harm Lord Trevlyn’s heir apparent, but Evleen? He would not put any sort of chicanery past Mrs. Lydia Trevlyn and her two older daughters. Evleen was bright, as well as perceptive, but in many ways she was still a simple country girl from Ireland and could hardly be a match for three