up. There were some truly gorgeous gowns and some to-die-for male clothing, too. But we still had a decent chance. I left Jeremy just outside the entrance to the tent. “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”
Harrison and Lacey hadn’t made their appearance yet when I snuck into the main tent to find Mr. Periwinkle already sitting behind the white-linen-covered judge’s table, chatting away with Mrs. Cranberry and Lady Waverly-Jones, the other two judges who I knew from the Austen Society. The audience was filing in on the bleachers behind them. Mr. Periwinkle looked up and smiled when he saw me approach. “Ah, Dr. Knightley, you are a sight for sore eyes.”
He was a small man with an elf-like face and a cloud of white curly hair on his head. His bright blue eyes were assessing and he was dressed in a perfect gray wool suit with a matching pocket square. His cane rested on the side of the table. He was never without it. It’s how I knew he would appreciate Jeremy’s cane.
I strolled up to the table, nodding at the two ladies, who nodded back before turning their attention to their own conversation. “I wanted to say hello,” I said to Mr. Periwinkle. “Before things get too busy.”
I also wanted him to see the authentic stitching and embroidery on my gown close-up, but that was a merely a bonus.
“You look quite fine,” Mr. Periwinkle said, rising from his seat and giving me a kiss on each cheek. “Doesn’t she, ladies?”
Mrs. Cranberry and Lady Waverly-Jones eyed me for a moment over the rims of their respective glasses.
“Quite,” Mrs. Cranberry said.
“Undoubtedly,” Lady Waverly-Jones added.
“How’ve you been?” I asked Mr. Periwinkle after the ladies had turned away again.
“Oy. Not looking forward to winter,” Mr. Periwinkle replied. “So difficult to sew a proper stitch in the cold, what with my arthritis.”
I nodded sagely as if I knew all about such things.
“But I’m certain you don’t want to hear about an old man’s aches and pains,” he continued. “Where’s Dr. Macomb? Waiting to make a grand entrance?”
I bit my lip. “He’s here...somewhere.” I had severely underestimated the rampant awkwardness that would accompany my having to tell my Austen Society friends that Harrison and I had split up for the purpose of the competition. But I’d better get it over with. It wasn’t as if Mr. P wouldn’t find out soon enough when Harrison came traipsing out on the stage with Lacey Lewis on his arm.
“Harrison and I have chosen new partners,” I said with a sigh. “He’s here with an actress and I’m here with an old friend.”
Mr. Periwinkle’s forehead puckered into a pronounced frown. He cupped a hand behind his ear. “Pardon?”
Oh, God. Did I have to repeat it?
“She said she and Dr. Macomb have split up,” Mrs. Cranberry nearly shouted toward Mr. Periwinkle.
So much for wondering whether the two ladies had been listening to our conversation. “No. No,” I hastened to add. “We haven’t split up...as a couple. We’re merely participating in the festival with different partners.”
“Oh,” Lady Waverly-Jones said, turning away. That news was clearly less interesting than a break-up.
“Whose idea was that?” Mr. Periwinkle asked, folding his arms across his chest.
I was beginning to wish that I hadn’t snuck in here after all. Embroidery be damned. “It was, er, Lacey Lewis’s idea.”
Lady Waverly-Jones’s head immediately snapped to the side to face me again. She looked down her regal nose at me. “Lacey Lewis, the American actress?”
“Yes, that Lacey Lewis.”
“Who is that?” Mr. Periwinkle said, his lips curled in a frown.
Of course Mr. Periwinkle didn’t know who an American starlet was, but leave it to the pop-culture-obsessed Lady Waverly-Jones to know all about her. Lady W-J loved to brag in the forum about the time she met Madonna, and what good friends she was with Posh Spice.
“Lacey Lewis is here?” Mrs. Cranberry asked, glancing around as if Lacey might be behind her right now.
“Yes, haven’t you seen the paparazzi?” I asked, wanting to back slowly out of the tent.
Mrs. Cranberry’s eyebrows rose. “I thought they were here to cover the festival for the newspaper.”
Mr. Periwinkle shook his head. “You mean to say that some chit asked Dr. Macomb to toss you over and he agreed to it?”
Here we go again. Though I did appreciate that he’d referred to Lacey as a chit. “It’s more complicated than that. It has to do with our boss and publicity for our college.”
“I don’t like it, Dr. Knightley. I don’t like it one