a man who would not see it. She was going to have tutors in speech and comportment to improve for a man who did not even live in the same country. Clever, clever girl. “Is his family still here?”
“Oh, yes. The Copleys remain in the same house you gave to me. They are in residence now.”
She wondered if she would pass them in the park one day, while she rode in a fine carriage and was dressed in one of Madame Tissot’s dresses. She would greet them and pretend they had not been cruel to her. What would their reaction be? She pictured astonishment, even confusion. That would be worth something, although not nearly enough to justify the funds she was laying out.
“He is not married.”
Minerva mentioned that ever so calmly, as just another bit of information gleaned from an inquiry. Nothing in her tone indicated she thought it signified much.
Only Rosamund knew Minerva guessed that it was a very important detail to the client in question. She knew from the studied nonchalance in Minerva’s expression, and from the way she chose right then to sip some coffee.
How much did her new friend know? The woman had a profession in conducting inquiries. Had she made some about Rosamund herself recently?
A servant entered, carrying the morning mail. He set a tall stack in front of Minerva, and another one at the place used by Chase. Then, to Rosamund’s surprise, he set a large letter in front of her place, along with a much smaller one.
The small one was from Beatrice, she knew. She had written to her friend with a question, and here was the answer. She set it aside to read in the carriage. She stared at the big letter. The hand that wrote her name had formed elegant letters.
“Oh, dear,” Minerva murmured.
Rosamund looked over to see Minerva extracting an identical letter from her stack.
“Oh, dear,” she said again. This time firmly. Almost like a curse. She slit open the letter and read it, then looked hard at the one in front of Rosamund.
Rosamund picked up hers and opened it. Such a lovely hand. Feminine. Just as impressive as the clerk’s penmanship, but clearly not a scrivener’s style. “It is an invitation to a dinner party, a week hence.”
“Indeed it is,” Minerva said. “You can decline.”
“Lady Agnes Radnor. Oh, I met her. In the park.”
“You did? How unfortunate. Really, you should decline. You will have just returned from a trying journey and cannot be expected to meet all those people so soon.”
“All those people?”
“The family. I’m sure the whole lot of them will be there to examine you. I would not wish them on an enemy and do not want to think of you enduring them, let alone all at once.”
“I suppose they are only curious.”
“You are too kind. Truly.”
It touched her that Minerva wanted to spare her, but from what? She would end up meeting these relatives of Kevin’s eventually. After Agnes, Felicity, and Kevin’s father, how much worse could it be? Declining this invitation would only delay the ordeal.
“I believe I will attend this party. Once it is over, they may lose interest.”
“Unlikely.”
She laughed. “I must go above and prepare to leave. Thank you for the report. Your inquiry was quick and thorough. You must let me know what fee I owe you.” She stood. “I also thank you for your hospitality with my whole heart.”
* * *
“I wonder why we say, ‘I am’ instead of ‘I be.’ After all, the verb is ‘to be.’ Yet, when we conjugate it in the present tense, there is no ‘be’ to be found.” Kevin shrugged. “Although something similar occurs in most languages. Still, it begs for an explanation.”
“That is what has preoccupied you on this ride?” Nicholas asked. “I thought you were brooding over something of consequence. I will have to remember that sometimes when you look deep in thought your mind is wandering through the same kind of mental debris that mine does.”
They continued trotting through the Middlesex countryside outside of Town, passing fields showing early growth and trees festooned with blooms. The air smelled of spring as only April air did.
“Did you badger me for this ride in order to discuss linguistics?” Nicholas asked.
“Not at all.”
“Then why?”
“Perhaps I just wanted company and thought you could use some too.”
“Kevin, you never want company. I have never met another man so comfortable without society.”
“You, on the other hand, crave it. I am only thinking of you and being generous.”
“You are