Amanda Quick: Rendezvous

The young woman seated next to Lady Arbuthnott glanced up also, her pretty dark eyes filled with anxiety. Rosalind Morrissey was not only the heiress to a considerable fortune, she was also enchantingly attractive with her tawny brown hair and full-bosomed figure.

"Ah, my dear Augusta," Sally said with deep satisfaction as Augusta bent down and kissed her affectionately on the cheek. "Something tells me you have met with success, hmmm? Poor Rosalind here has been quite overset for the past few days. You must put her out of her misery."

"With pleasure. Here is your journal, Rosalind. Not exactly with Lord Enfield's compliments, but what does that signify?" Augusta held out the small leather-bound volume.

" You found it ." Rosalind leaped to her feet and grabbed the journal. "I can hardly believe it." She threw her arms around Augusta and gave her a quick hug. "What an enormous relief. How can I possibly thank you? Was there any problem? Any danger? Does Enfield know you took it?"

"Well, matters did not go precisely according to plan," Augusta admitted as she sat down across from Sally. "And we should probably discuss the business immediately."

"What went wrong?" Sally asked with interest. "Were you discovered?"

Augusta wrinkled her nose. "I was interrupted in the very act of retrieving the journal by Lord Graystone, of all people. Who would have imagined that he would have been wandering around at that hour? One would think he would have been busy writing another treatise on some moldering old Greek if he was even awake. But no, there he was, sauntering into the library, cool as you please while I was on my knees behind Enfield 's desk."

" Graystone ." Rosalind sank back down into her chair with a horrified expression. "That high stickler? He saw you? He saw my journal?"

Augusta shook her head reassuringly. "Don't worry, Rosalind. He did not know it was yours, but yes, he did discover me in the library." She turned to frown seriously at Sally. "I must say, it was all very mysterious. He apparently knew that I would be there and he even knew I wanted something out of the desk. In fact, he even produced a length of wire and picked the lock. But he refused to tell me his source of information."

Rosalind put a hand to her mouth and her dark eyes widened in alarm. "Dear heaven, we must have a spy in our midst."

Sally made soothing noises. "I am quite certain there is nothing to worry about. I have known the man for years. Graystone's town house is just at the other end of the street, you see. I can tell you from experience that he is almost always possessed of the most unusual information."

"He gave me his word he would not tell a soul about the incident and I am inclined to believe him," Augusta said slowly. "He has become a close friend of my uncle's in recent months, you know, and I believe he thought he was doing Sir Thomas a favor by keeping an eye on me at Enfield's."

"That's another thing about Graystone," Sally said smoothly. "He can be trusted to keep a secret."

"Are you certain?" Rosalind looked at her anxiously.

"Absolutely positive." Sally raised her teacup to her pale lips, took a sip, and set the cup and saucer firmly on the end table. "Now, then, my bold young friends. We have managed to brush through this unfortunate affair safely enough, thanks to Augusta's daring and my own ability to secure invitations for acquaintances on short notice. Lady Enfield did owe me a few favors, after all. However, I feel I should take this opportunity to make a point."

"I believe I know what you are going to say," Augusta murmured, pouring herself a cup of tea. "But it is entirely unnecessary. Not only did Lord Graystone see fit to read me a boring lecture, I can assure you, I have learned a lesson from poor Rosalind's sad plight. I, for one, will never, ever, put anything down in writing that can possibly come back to haunt me."

"Nor will I, ever again." Rosalind Morrissey clutched the journal very close to her breast. "What a beast that man is."

"Who? Enfield?" Sally smiled grimly. "Yes, he is most definitely a bastard when it comes to his dealings with women. Always has been. But there is no denying he fought bravely enough during the war."

"I do not know what I ever saw in him," Rosalind stated. "I much prefer the company of someone like Lord Lovejoy. What do you know of him, Sally? Your information is always the most current, even though you rarely leave the comforts of your own home."

"I have no need to go abroad for the latest on dit ." Sally smiled. "Sooner or later it all flows through the front door of Pompeia's. As for Lovejoy, I have only recently begun hearing of his charms. They are many and varied, I am told." She glanced at Augusta. "You can testify to that, can you not, Augusta?"

"I danced with him at the Lofenburys' ball last week," Augusta said, remembering the laughing, red-haired baron with the brilliant green eyes. "I must admit it is quite exciting to dance the waltz with him. And he is rather mysterious, I understand. No one seems to know much about him."

"He is the last of his line, I believe. There was something said about estates in Norfolk." Sally pursed her lips. "But I have no notion of how prosperous his lands are. Best take care that you are not becoming enamored of another fortune hunter, Rosalind."

Rosalind groaned. "Why is it that all the most interesting men have a serious character flaw of one sort or another?"

"Sometimes it is just the reverse," Augusta said with a sigh. "Sometimes the most interesting male around perceives a serious character flaw in a certain female who happens to be quite attracted to him."

"We are discussing Graystone again?" Sally gave Augusta a shrewd glance.

"I fear so," Augusta admitted. "Do you know he all but admitted he has a list of suitable candidates he is reviewing for the position of Countess of Graystone?"

Rosalind nodded soberly. "I have heard about that list. Whoever is on it will find it difficult to live up to the standards set by his first wife, Catherine. She died in childbirth the first year of her marriage. But in that single year she apparently managed to leave behind a lasting impression on Graystone."

"She was a paragon, I presume?" Augusta queried.

"A model of womanly virtue, or so it is said," Rosalind explained wryly. "Just ask anyone. My mother knew the family and frequently held Catherine up to me as an example. I met her once or twice when I was younger and I must confess I found her a prig. Quite beautiful, however. She looked like a Madonna in one of those Italian paintings."

"It is said a virtuous woman is worth more than rubies," Sally murmured. "But I believe many men discover the hard way that virtue, like beauty, is often in the eye of the beholder. It is quite possible that Graystone does not seek another paragon."

"Oh, he definitely wants a paragon," Augusta assured her. "And in my more rational moments, I realize he would make a perfectly obnoxious, quite intolerable husband for a woman of my spontaneous and uninhibited temperament."

"And in your more irrational moments?" Sally pressed gently.

Augusta grimaced. "In my darkest hours I have actually considered taking up the serious study of Herodotus and Tacitus, throwing away all my tracts on the rights of women, and ordering up a whole new wardrobe of unfashionable gowns with very high necklines. But I have found that if I have a cup of tea and rest for a few minutes such madness passes quickly. I soon return to my normal self."

"Good heavens, one would certainly hope so. I cannot see you in the role of a paragon of female behavior." Sally broke out in uproarious laughter and the sound caused everyone in the room to turned toward the threesome seated near the fire. The ladies of Pompeia's smiled knowingly at each other. It was good to see their patronness enjoying herself.