Murder on Charles Street - Leighann Dobbs Page 0,34
more than a smile and a chuck on the chin. Some way, Harriet must find a way to gain the upper hand. Otherwise, her stay in Scotland—on his home ground—would be unbearable.
Chapter Ten
In her favorite chair in the front parlor, Katherine struggled to contain a wriggling Emma. Although she and Harriet hadn’t been gone for two hours, Emma acted as though they had left for a decade. Ever since Katherine had returned, the little dog had yipped and run circles around her until Katherine had obeyed the demand. The moment she’d sat in the chair to give her pet some proper attention, Emma had catapulted onto her lap. Proper attention, in Emma’s mind, meant belly scratches. She wriggled like a worm on Katherine’s lap, a furry little creature determined to leave as much hair on Katherine’s skirt as possible.
At a knock on the door, Emma launched herself through the air and landed hard on all four feet. Her nails scrabbled for purchase on the wood, and she barked as she approached the door. Harriet reached it second.
“Emma! Out of the way, scamp. I can’t open it if you’re going to run out onto the street.” Harriet grunted. A moment later, she proclaimed, “There. Now how do you like the view?” She must have lifted the dog into her arms.
The door opened, Emma’s vigorous barks drowning out the brief exchange. Katherine had just risen when the door shut again, and Harriet carried the dog into the room on her hip. “Who was that?”
Harriet extended a hand, offering a crisp envelope with a wax seal. “A missive from Lady Dalhousie. She said she expects to meet you tonight at this address?”
Katherine sighed. She’d hoped that Lady Dalhousie would forget their arrangement. Reluctantly, she took the envelope from Harriet’s hand and went hunting for a penknife.
Curious, Harriet followed her out of the room and up the stairs. “Where will you be that Lady Dalhousie will meet you?”
Upon reaching the study, Katherine glared at her as she crossed to the battered writing desk. Katherine had managed to claim the one she’d had in her room at Dorchester House, but with the inclement weather and the struggle to carry it down several flights of steps and out of Mayfair, it hadn’t survived unscathed. One or two of those marks on the legs had been there already from Emma. Like the rest of her house, the sole piece of furniture in the study acted as a stark sentinel against the undecorated space and sparsely filled bookshelf.
Katherine rummaged through the desk while Harriet stood over it, Emma in hand. “Do you mean to tell me, or do I have to guess?”
Upon finding the penknife, Katherine slipped it into the thick wax and broke the seal. “You would know if you hadn’t abandoned me to Lady Dalhousie’s clutches earlier today.”
Harriet raised an eyebrow and settled Emma more firmly in her grasp. The little dog strained to sniff her face, her neck not long enough to reach. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t ensure that you’re ready to go out.”
Katherine opened the envelope and slipped out a thick card—an invitation to Lord Penhurst’s exhibition this evening. He promised a quiet affair, friends only, as he displayed his latest treasures from Egypt. Katherine couldn’t very well refuse. From the way the invitation was worded, the host already presumed her attendance. Lady Dalhousie would have made certain of that.
With a sigh, Katherine glanced at Harriet. “What should I wear to a private exhibition?”
Harriet took the card and frowned as she tapped it against her thigh. Emma snapped at it unsuccessfully. “I’ll have a look and find something to suit. But what does this have to do with Lady Dalhousie?”
“She’s asked me to match her niece, Miss Ball. I was in such a hurry to rejoin you and the interrogation that I said yes. We are discussing the particulars this evening.”
Harriet sighed, looking crestfallen. “I suppose this means you’ll want to look as dowdy as possible.”
Katherine used her clothes as a shield to ward away unwanted advances from men who saw her as no more than an earl’s unmarried daughter. In fact, she used her wardrobe to ward away all men. She hadn’t the time for anyone who didn’t care to engage her mind.
She opened her mouth to answer, but movement at the window caught her eye. This window, like the one in the front parlor below, overlooked the street. A figure in a dress and cloak turned briskly up the