do with one another. The bracelet was just a bracelet. A nervous laugh escaped Phoebe and bounced about the corners of the room.
The note, though. That could be serious.
Phoebe left the study and went in search of the butler. She found him in the entryway.
“Lawler,” she said, holding out the letter. “Do you know where this letter came from? It has not been franked, nor does it appear to have come through the post.” The lines were too crisp, the paper unwrinkled.
“That letter?” Lawler looked at the seal. “Oh, yes. The little girl who sells flowers near the park brought it to the house. She has brought notes from the Barret-Rye family before, I believe.”
Phoebe nodded. The Barret-Ryes were friends of Caroline’s who lived on the far side of the park. Caroline had mentioned on a walk one afternoon when they’d passed the girl that they frequently bought flowers from her and sent her on the occasional errand for a few pennies.
“I see. Yes, I think you are correct about the flower girl.” But his assumption that the note was from the Barret-Ryes was most certainly incorrect. Surely other families might employ the child in a similar manner. “Thank you, Lawler.” Phoebe walked to the stairs, holding the note against her chest.
The words it contained might be a lie. Or she might be at risk of being misled by a man. Again. What had Caroline said yesterday?
April is the month of fools.
“I will not be taken in again,” Phoebe whispered. She hurried to her room to fetch her spencer and bonnet. If she made a few calls, she could find the truth for herself.
Griffin walked down St. James’s, grinning to himself. He had left his club where several of his friends had recounted his dough-ball duel back to him, laughing all the while. They were placing bets as to what sort of foolish thing he might do next. Some thought he would release an animal from the menagerie, or perform on stage at the Royal Theatre. The betting book had appeared, amid much ribbing, and Griffin quite enjoyed the attention, as anyone would.
He intended to walk a distance before finding a hack to take him home for the evening; any number of black carriages waited on gentlemen who had not brought their own vehicles that evening, but the closest conveyance was not the one Griffin sought. He peered into a few as he walked, looking for signs of age. He preferred to give his funds to those most in need, not the few who had managed to claim the choicest positions near the front doors of gentlemen’s clubs.
The flash of a pale face inside one vehicle gave him pause. He took a few steps backward and looked again, certain he was mistaken.
A woman waited in the hack. He looked up at the driver, who purposefully ignored him, then approached. Poor thing had likely come looking for a relative and did not know how to go about getting them out of the club without causing a scene. Women were not allowed, of course, and usually sent servants to deliver important messages to husbands.
Griffin knocked on the window, purposefully looking away. “Madam, if you will tell me who you are waiting for, I will happily fetch the man for you.”
There was a yelp from inside, then the window dropped open with a bang, startling him into looking up. Directly into Miss Kimball’s face.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her dark eyebrows raising comically high.
“What am I doing here? My club is here. What are you doing here?” Griffin stared at her, then looked deeper into the shadows. “Do you at least have a maid with you?”
She gasped. “That is none of your concern.”
She was alone. Griffin shook his head. “What are you doing out here, Miss Kimball? Your reputation—”
The door opened, and she reached out to grab the lapel of his coat, stunning Griffin enough that he complied when she pulled him into the coach. He realized what he had done when she shut the door behind him.
“See here, Miss Kimball, I will not be forced into a compromising position with you.”
A bark of a laugh followed her momentary silence. “Me? Compromise you? Why ever would I do such a thing?”
That ruffled his pride a bit, but Griffin shrugged. “Who knows? Women are mysterious creatures. For instance, I have absolutely no idea why you would pull me into a dark carriage if you did not have nefarious purposes.”
She leaned forward in