was also still vulnerable. Certainly she was very much alone. Charlotte had never thought of it before, but it struck her now with the force of a blow. Had Vespasia ever known the safety of heart that Charlotte took so much for granted?
She changed the subject quickly, before her face betrayed her thoughts.
“Perhaps we are being too fanciful about Angeles,” she remarked. “I expect there is no grand passion for someone else and no betrayal by her fiancé with another woman. I am more bored with Society than I had remembered, and I can see that the devil has made more work for idle minds than he ever does for idle hands. Sometimes I wish Thomas were back in the regular police instead of in Special Branch, where all his cases are secret. I can’t help anymore because he can’t even tell me what they are about.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Vespasia warned gently. “It may not be so pleasant if you are granted it.”
Charlotte glanced at her and, seeing the gravity in her eyes, changed her mind about responding. Instead she said, “By the way, I was listening to a piece of gossip just now, and they mentioned Pelham Forsbrook possibly marrying again. They hinted at some tragedy regarding his first wife. I had no idea what they were referring to.”
Vespasia’s face filled with a sudden sadness. “Eleanor,” she said quickly. “I knew her only slightly, but she was charming and funny and very kind. I’m afraid she was killed in a traffic accident. Something startled the horse and it bolted. One of the wheels was caught and the whole carriage was overturned. Poor Eleanor was crushed. I think she died instantly, but it was an appalling thing to happen.”
Charlotte was taken aback. “I’m sorry. Was it long ago?”
“About four years. I don’t think Pelham has ever considered marrying again but, of course, I could be mistaken. I never knew him well.” She smiled, dismissing the subject. “I should like you to meet Lady Buell. She is ninety if she’s a day, and has been everywhere and met everyone. You will find her most entertaining.”
AN HOUR LATER CHARLOTTE was looking for somewhere to set down her empty cup. She went into the big marquee, which had been erected for the unlikely event of rain, or for those who wished more adequate shelter from the sun than even the most excellent parasol could offer.
She placed her cup down and was moving toward the entrance again when she saw Angeles Castelbranco four or five yards away, on the other side of a table set with samovars for tea, which partially concealed her from view.
Angeles was holding her cup and saucer and was also facing the door when a young man came in. He was tall and fair-haired, and when he smiled at Angeles he was good-looking enough to be considered handsome.
“Good afternoon,” he said warmly. “Geoffrey Andersley. May I pour more tea for you, Miss …?” He hesitated, waiting for Angeles to introduce herself.
She took a step backward, holding on to her cup and saucer.
He reached for it and his fingers brushed her hand.
She dropped the cup instantly and it fell to the grass.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, as if it had been his fault. He bent to pick it up, moving closer to her to reach it.
Angeles jerked backward as though he had in some way threatened her.
He looked embarrassed as he rose to his feet again and straightened up.
“I say, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She shook her head, her face flushed with color, her breathing heavy, as if she had been running. She began to speak and then stopped.
“Are you all right?” he asked anxiously. “Would you like to sit down?” He held out a hand as if to steady her.
She flinched and backed farther away, knocking against a table set with glasses and clean cups and saucers. They clattered against one another and half a dozen tall champagne flutes fell over.
Angeles swung around, distressed by her own clumsiness. Now her face was scarlet.
“I’m perfectly all right, Mr…. Mr. Andersley. If you will allow me to pass, I would like to go outside and get a little air.”
“Of course,” he agreed, but he did not move.
“Let me pass!” she repeated, her voice rising, wobbling a little, out of control.
He took a small step closer to her, his face creased with concern. “Are you sure you are all right?”
Charlotte decided to intervene, even though it was possibly