A Date with Dishonour. Mary Brendan

between them. A woman in a feathered bonnet hove into view, but there was no gentleman to be seen. Hugging her cloak about her in relief, Elise quickened her step.

      * * *

      Lily Watson was in a bad mood as she loitered in the shadows. She’d been sauntering to and fro in the dusk on the lookout for a client for an hour or more with no luck. She knew that if she returned home with nothing to show for the fancy hat Johnny had bought her he’d give her a bruise for what he’d call her laziness. But she hadn’t been idle; she’d been pipped to the post, she reckoned, and her lips twisted resentfully because of it.

      If she’d been in the right spot a few minutes sooner, she’d have nabbed the fine gent that another girl had led off into the bushes. Or rather, he’d been taking her, and Lily knew that a cove as eager as he’d seemed to be would have paid up handsomely for his pleasure. She was dawdling now, pressed into the hedge, hoping a gentleman on the loose, looking for a bit of fun, might happen by. But the concert seemed to have drawn all to it so Lily was waiting for the only randy fellow who seemed to be about this evening to emerge from the dark path.

      A few moments ago Lily had seen her rival speed off and she’d wondered whether the lucky thing had another client lined up and was heading there now.

      Lily tilted her hat to a jaunty angle as she noticed the fellow strolling into view. With a final pat at her curls she moved forwards.

      She knew it was a vain hope that he might be interested in another session so soon after the last; but Johnny was able to perform more times than she liked so she reckoned it was worth a try because this fellow looked big and virile.

      ‘Oh...sir...I’m lost and looking for my friend.’ Lily had slipped up from behind to clutch at Alex’s arm before he could move too far. ‘I don’t like to wander alone in search of him—would you accompany me to find him?’ She tugged his sleeve, urging him back the way he’d just come, while peeking up from beneath many ostrich feathers. Her coy gaze floundered beneath cynical dark eyes. She knew at once she was wasting her time. And what a shame that was! Now she was closer she could see that he was the sort of gent a girl might only be fortunate enough to have once in her working life. A tumble on the ground with him would be no hardship at all.

      Her fingers were disengaged from his arm and, defeated, Lily watched his broad back as he strode off in the direction his previous fancy had taken.

      * * *

      ‘Where on earth have you been?’

      ‘Where have I been?’ Elise hissed furiously at her sister. ‘You know where I have been. I have been searching for you.’

      ‘That’s what Verity said,’ Bea whispered back, frowning. ‘But I’ve been here all the time. Or rather a little way away in order to escape him.’ Her eyes narrowed on James Whittiker standing with Fiona. ‘He sidled up to me while you were engrossed in discussing the violins with Mr Chapman, and hinted he would take me to meet his acquaintances whether I would go or not. Naturally, I made myself scarce in case he carried out the threat.’ Bea grimaced in mock alarm. ‘I have been just over there with Aunt Dolly.’ She flicked a finger, squinting into the distance.

      ‘Aunt Dolly?’ Elise echoed faintly, striving to cope with the awful realisation that she’d dreadfully misread the situation.

      ‘Aunt Dolly is here with one of her neighbours. She was most surprised to see me, I can tell you.’ Beatrice craned her neck again before raising a gloved hand, waving to a woman stationed close to the stage. ‘I told her I would bring you over to her to say hello.’ Bea frowned. ‘So where did you go?’ Suddenly her eyes widened. ‘Did you think I’d gone to meet Mr Best, after all?’

      ‘Of course I did!’ Elise suddenly felt very silly and close to tears.

      ‘But I promised I wouldn’t, Elise!’ There was hurt in Bea’s eyes and tone as she realised her sister had believed she’d easily broken her word.

      ‘When has that ever made any difference?’ Elise muttered, but she flushed guiltily, pressing quivering fingers to her throbbing brow. ‘I panicked when I could not locate you.’

      ‘But you might have been in dreadful trouble had you been spotted!’ Bea’s eyes were alight with scandalised amusement. ‘I wish now I’d shared the adventure with you. I have been thinking about Mr Best and whether he might have been a fellow for whom it was worth taking a risk. Did you see him? What is he like? Did you speak to him?’

      ‘I...I didn’t get as far as the lake. I soon regretted what I’d done and returned here as soon as I could.’ Elise was glad that she’d been able to give her sister an honest, if very abbreviated, account.

      She had slipped back beside Verity a few minutes ago. Her friend had been watching for her return and had immediately given her a most relieved look, discreetly indicating that Bea was close by. A slight shrug and an elevation of her eyebrows had been Verity’s method of requesting an explanation. But Elise had no time to give it and had grimaced an apology before drawing Beatrice aside to give her a piece of her mind. Uneasily she knew now that she deserved a scolding, not her sister.

      ‘Let’s forget about it and enjoy the entertainment.’ Elise took a deep, calming breath as she linked arms with Bea. ‘I should like to talk to Aunt Dolly. Let’s go and see her.’

      * * *

      ‘What delightful nieces you have, Dolly.’

      Dolly Pearson beamed proudly at Elise and Bea. ‘They are very pretty girls aren’t, they, Edith?’

      ‘Indeed they are pretty! Are either of you young ladies spoken for?’

      Edith Vickers glanced from one to the other of the young women, awaiting a reply, unabashed at her blunt question having elicited three startled expressions. In fact, she’d already taken a discreet peek at gloved hands and had spotted no bumps beneath kid that might have hinted at the presence of rings on fingers.

      Edith had thought the elder of the two a charming beauty when she’d come alone for a brief conversation with her aunt earlier that evening. Now the younger girl had been brought over by her sister and in Mrs Vickers’s opinion didn’t quite have the same appeal, being a shade too tall and willowy for what was considered attractive to gentlemen.

      ‘We are both unattached,’ Elise quickly informed her before changing the subject. ‘Are you close neighbours, living in the same street?’ She swung an enquiring glance between the older women.

      ‘Mrs Vickers has the large villa at the end of the terrace,’ Dolly informed her. ‘You have not long been in Hammersmith, have you, Edith? About a year and a half I suppose it must be now.’

      ‘Twenty months, I’m afraid.’ Edith sighed. ‘But it is nice to have found a good friend in you, Dolly, despite the miserable circumstances that brought me to the area in the first place.’ The mourning pearl pinned to her grey silk cloak received a pat. ‘My husband died two years ago, you see, and circumstances were such that I must move out of Chelsea, although I was happy there. My girls had flown the nest to marry some years previously so it wasn’t the disaster it might have been. I should have hated it if my darlings had had their home snatched from under them—’ She broke off to dab at an eye with a scrap of linen.

      ‘Oh...I’m sorry to hear of your loss,’ Elise murmured and Bea echoed a similar condolence.

      ‘Well, let us cheer up and hear what you two young ladies have been up to,’ Dolly said brightly. ‘It is a long while since I saw either of you for a nice chat.’

      Dolly had lost her husband Percy some fifteen years ago so time had smoothed the rough edges of her sorrow. She hadn’t been reduced in circumstances as had her friend, and thus didn’t have that additional regret burdening her. Dolly had always lived in comfort rather than luxury, whereas Edith Vickers had been used to a grand lifestyle until her husband suddenly expired, leaving his collateral at the mercy of his creditors.

      ‘How long will you be staying in London with your friends, the Chapmans?