me in return for my good regard.” She gestured to the arrangement on the table. “Still don’t see why Wimberley didn’t know. The young don’t know where their parents live and obviously don’t listen to them. Always talking. Perhaps that’s the problem, the young talk too much to listen. There must be a way to stop the chatter. Glue. Keep their lips fastened. Does make it hard to eat, though. Perhaps some type of locking device? I’ll have to look into –“
“Forgive me, Lady Smythe-Burke, but . . .”
“Just what I am talking about. Don’t give your elders a chance to say a single word. My father would have rapped my knuckles for such behavior. Still have the scars. I had a nurse who insisted that if you put a fresh fish skin over the scrape there’d be no mark. Never could abide the smell of fish . . .”
Marguerite glanced down at the inlay on the table. There were three different colors of shell used and what was that deep red? She’d never seen anything like it. The stripes on the sofa were of mixed size and only repeated pattern every sixth color. The flowers on the mantle were most unusual. Where did you get tulips in the fall? The mixture of white, green and red in a single flower was most bizarre.
“. . . Jonah should have stayed in the whale.” Lady Smythe-Burke clicked her cup on the saucer. “Don’t you agree?” She paused and waited for an answer.
Marguerite resisted the urge to look at the clock. It had seemed a simple task. She would call round for tea and casually inquire about Tristan’s mother. She knew it seemed odd that she had not asked him, but she had not seen him for two days. She’d considered asking Winters, but could not bring herself to confess to a servant that she knew not the barest details of her husband’s life.
“Aren’t you going to answer me? First I can’t get you to be quiet and now you don’t answer. I’d question your mother about your upbringing, but then I’d have to speak with her. She used to be such a sweet woman before your father died. I’ve heard of fading from grief, but never expanding from it.”
For the first time since she’d received the directions to Lady St. John’s home Marguerite’s ears pricked up. Nobody ever talked about her mother. She’d heard bits and pieces and managed to put together part of the story from her mother’s own comments, but Lady Smythe-Burke’s words promised to fill in some gaps.
The door swung open and another lady flurried in. “I’ve just heard the most amazing gossip. I can’t believe that people are claiming that . . .” Her eyes settled on Marguerite. “It’s true.” The eager chatter turned cold.
“Hello, Lady Harburton. It is a pleasure to renew our acquaintance.” Marguerite smiled as she spoke. She didn’t know why she rubbed Lady Harburton the wrong way, but she did. They’d met at her sister Rose’s house party the year before and from the very first Lady Harburton had made her opinions clear.
“Yes, of course.” Lady Harburton’s tone implied the opposite.
For once Lady Smythe-Burke remained strangely silent.
“How are your husband and son?” Marguerite asked.
“Very well, I am sure.” Lady Harburton nodded once briskly and then turned towards Lady Smythe-Burke and back again. A slow, cat-like smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “And what of your husband? I was most astonished when I heard the news. You seem a most unlikely pair. The rumor is it’s a love match. Strange though that Lord Wimberley has been out the last two nights with my Simon, instead of staying home with his new wife.”
Marguerite knew she had paled at the words, but she kept her shoulders tight back. “We find plenty of time together. I feel no need to tie him to me.”
“Tie him to you – is that how you got him to the altar?”
“Now calm down, Minerva.” Lady Smythe-Burke finally chimed in. “If there was any tying done I believe I can take credit. I always was good with knots. Now what did you come about? I doubt it was to show off your manners.”
Lady Harburton glanced around the room and then settled on the settee. “You’re correct, of course. I had planned to discuss the rumor that you’d been involved in Wimberley’s wedding, but for once the gossip seems to be accurate. No matter.” She paused, then sped on. “The other