piece of the muslin wrapper.
Minerva had been so distracted by admiring the dinner dress that she had not noticed something else had come with it. Beth lifted the garment high. An undressing gown unfolded and its hem dropped down. She had admired this at Madame Tissot’s too, and only declined it after much thought.
Beth peered around the white lace, suspiciously.
“I will send it back with the dress,” Minerva said.
Beth laid the undressing gown on the bed. “It is very pretty. The one you have has been mended five times over.”
“It is lovely, isn’t it?”
Beth ran her palm over the very fine lawn fabric. “Maybe it wasn’t a mistake. Perhaps that dressmaker just wanted you to have it.”
“Dressmakers do not make gifts of such as this, to patrons such as me. Pack it up and I’ll ask Jeremy to—”
“Could be that Mr. Radnor wanted you to have it, as compensation for all the help you have given him.”
If she had given him much help at all, she might convince herself of that. Still . . . She joined Beth in gazing at the garment. “If he did, it would be inappropriate for me to keep it.”
“Very inappropriate.” Beth fingered some lace, rubbing it. “I never thought to call such a thing delicious, but the word fits.”
Minerva marveled at the tiny pearl beads on the neckline of the dress. “Sad to return them, but I must.”
Beth gave a subtle shrug. “That all depends, doesn’t it? You listened to my long scold about having no more to do with him, and seemed to agree. But you didn’t actually do so, nor have you avoided him like you should.”
Minerva felt her face warming. She doubted her old friend would place a wager on how matters would develop with Chase. Minerva had no idea herself, especially now. Last night she debated at length with herself, weighing her ache for intimacy against all the reasons ever going to him would be a mistake. For both of them now.
“I don’t blame you,” Beth said. “I just wish he were a merchant or a fishmonger or doing anything other than these inquiries that seem to touch on you.”
“As do I, Beth. As do I.”
Beth lifted the undressing gown and carried it to the wardrobe. “Why not wait a few days, and see if that dressmaker writes to tell you they were sent by mistake. If she doesn’t, you can always send them back next week if you choose to.”
Chapter Seventeen
The letter from Chase contained one terse sentence. I demand that you explain why you had cause to inquire as to my cousin Kevin’s whereabouts last month. Nothing indicated when and how she was supposed to provide that explanation. By letter, presumably.
He had reached the point on his list where he checked his relatives’ stories, apparently. On learning about Kevin, he had realized her own reasons for visiting the packet office.
Their conversation after he found her there had not been one that any decent man would conclude with an interrogation on her reasons for that visit.
She rather wished she had blurted the lie she had devised as an explanation, should he ever ask about that. I was wondering if I could find out where my uncle and cousins landed when they left England. He would never know that she had looked into that when she first came up to London five years ago, to no good conclusion.
She sat down to write to him, but after a few jottings her pen paused. How cowardly to give bad news this way. She was about to hand him a problem worse than he imagined. He had a right to ask his questions and have quick answers.
She pulled forward a clean sheet of paper. I will call at eight o’clock this evening to tell you what I know.
She sent Jeremy off to deliver the note, then tried to concentrate on the rest of her day. A new client called, sent by Mrs. Oliver. This woman, Mrs. Jeffers, wanted to find her cousin, with whom she had been long estranged. Minerva was glad for the new inquiry, and grateful for the distraction. Once that meeting ended, she had nothing but thoughts about her next one in her head.
She ate dinner with Beth and Jeremy. When it ended, she went to her chamber to wash and change her garments, and to settle the errant strands of hair that had escaped during the day. For some reason she became all thumbs and did a poor job