‘I have a few errands, and some shopping for myself and my aunts, but you must tell me how I might be of use to you, Cousin Harriet.’
‘By keeping me company and letting me come shopping with you. I miss my darling Julia and you must stop me moping and keep me young. Now, what are your errands?’
‘There is a picture dealer I must visit on behalf of Aunt Isobel and a shopping list of alarming proportions for both her and Aunt Rosie—I suspect I will be visiting every bookshop in London.’
‘And dress shops for yourself?’ Lady Pirton buttered another slice of toast and reached for the strawberry conserve.
‘Yes, I fear my wardrobe is hopelessly out of date and provincial,’ Tamsyn confessed. ‘Not that we have an extravagant social life in Devon, but I would like something pretty for the occasional assembly and certainly for local dinner parties. And perhaps a new riding habit and a walking dress or two.’ She looked down at her sprigged green skirts. ‘And a morning dress.’
‘And shoes and shawls and all the trimmings. Excellent.’ Lady Pirton beamed. ‘And I have invitations to some select little parties you will enjoy, so I suggest we visit my modiste first so she can make a start and then we can go to your art dealer and the bookshops. You won’t need to dress up for either of those.’
Which implies that I’m not yet fit to be seen in any of the fashionable lounges like Bond Street or Hyde Park, Tamsyn thought with an inward smile.
*
The visit to the modiste, who proved to be the famous Mrs Bell, much to Tamsyn’s alarm, was thoroughly embarrassing. She was stripped down to her plain and functional underwear, which was tutted over, then she was measured, peered at, discussed and turned around like a doll in the hands of a group of little girls.
‘I think I might… Do I really need…? But how much…?’ All was ignored until she pull
ed herself together, put up both hands and said, ‘Stop, please! I need to know how much each garment will be before I commit myself. And I most certainly do not require a ball gown.’ It was not as though she could not afford a new wardrobe, but her practical soul revolted at the idea of wasting her money on things she did not need and would never use.
Finally she escaped with an order that satisfied both practicality and a purely feminine desire for a few frills and furbelows that were, perhaps, not entirely necessary.
‘That is a reasonable start,’ Cousin Harriet commented as they took their places in her smart town carriage with its hood down.
Tamsyn tried hard not to stare about her like a yokel. Bond Street, Albemarle Street, fashionable squares and elegant town houses. And the traffic…and the people and the noise. By the time they reached the pleasant side street close to Grosvenor Square she was both dizzy and exhilarated and had to calm herself down in case she let slip too much slip in front of Cousin Harriet when they entered the dealer’s shop.
Fortunately the older woman appeared to think that Aunt Izzy was thinking of selling the paintings and therefore took herself off discreetly to one side to study a Fragonard while Tamsyn spoke to the dealer.
‘Yes, Mrs Perowne, they are undoubtedly by Rubens. I took the precaution of seeking a second opinion from an expert who considers them excellent, although small. If your aunt wishes to place them on the marketplace, I would be happy to act as her agent.’ His eyes gleamed, presumably, Tamsyn thought, with the prospect of the commission.
‘The disposal is not entirely in my aunt’s hands,’ she said carefully. ‘Will you be able to keep them securely for a few more weeks? Would there be a charge for that?’
‘As I am acting on behalf of the Marquess of Avenmore in this matter, and he is an excellent customer of mine, it would be entirely gratis, ma’am, I assure you.’
It niggled at her pride to be beholden, yet again, to Cris, but common sense told her this was the safest place. All she had to do now was to try to think of a way of dealing with Franklin, which was proving as hard here in London as it had in Devon. With a mental shrug, Tamsyn allowed herself to be swept off by Cousin Harriet for more shopping. The important thing, she assured herself, with half an ear on Harriet’s discourse on the best place to buy ribbons, shawls and lace, was to keep calm, and then a solution would present itself.
*
Three days later the only things that presented themselves were a pile of dress boxes from Mrs Bell, Lady Pirton’s coiffeuse to give her a fashionable crop and an alarming pile of invitations.
‘Now that your hair has a modish touch and you are outfitted in style, what is to stop you from going to parties? Lady Ancaster’s informal supper dance tomorrow will be just the thing. It will not be a crush, the food and music will be excellent and Hermione’s little gatherings are always delightfully unstuffy.’
*
‘Hermione’s little gathering’ appeared to consist of about two hundred beautifully dressed people all talking at the top of their voices. Tamsyn told herself that she, too, was beautifully dressed, in sea-foam-green net over matching silk with cream lace at neck, sleeves and hem. She had borrowed pearls at her neck and in her earlobes and a simple ribbon threaded through her smart new crop. She found her smile and her poise and lunged into the throng.
*
Half an hour later her hair ribbon slipped. ‘Just through the arch on the left,’ Harriet advised. ‘Then down the passageway and you’ll find the ladies’ retiring room. I won’t have moved far when you come back.’
Tamsyn found the arch and then discovered three possible passages. She took the left one at random, rounded a corner and walked into the back of someone large, solid and male.
‘I do beg your pardon, sir.’ He turned. ‘Oh. Lord Edenbridge.’
Behind Gabriel a tall blonde girl with lovely blue eyes put her hand to her mouth, turned and hurried away.
‘Come back!’