“Miss Thompson!” he said. “Whatever are you doing here?”
“Oh, oh,” she said, knowing her words were breathy and jumbled. “We must be going. Come, Kirsty! Where are our coats?”
“We’ve not eaten yet, Elspeth!” her sister exclaimed.
“Alexander!” his mother hissed. “These are your sister’s guests.”
What had he just said to her? He couldn’t for his life remember what he’d spoken and what was only in his mind. He did know that he’d embarrassed her and that they were staring at each other.
“Miss Thompson,” he hurried around the table to where she stood, “I’m so terribly sorry. Please don’t leave.”
“I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted, sir,” she whispered and looked at him steadily.
He reached for her hand, now trembling and cold. “I spoke without thinking. Please accept my apologies.”
They stood, her small hand in his, staring at each other until she turned her head with a shaky jerk to Annabelle, his mother, and her sister. He stepped away and looked down at his sister.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted your luncheon, Annabelle.”
“And insulted my guests,” she said and arched her brow to Kirsty Thompson.
His mother was watching him closely and glancing at Elspeth. She’d always had a way of knowing what was going through her children’s heads, especially when they were planning mischief or not quite telling the entire truth.
“Mother, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I’ll be going,” he said and turned to the door. He hurried down the hallway but stopped when he heard his mother’s voice.
“Alexander,” his mother said as she walked up beside him. He kept a steady gaze on the doors. “You’ve met Miss Thompson before, I gather.”
He nodded. “I have.”
“Alexander,” she said and waited until he looked at her. “What is going on?”
“I met her a few weeks ago when Schmitt was causing a scene in front of a . . . a house of ill repute.”
“A brothel?”
“Yes.”
“You met Miss Thompson at a brothel?”
“No! No, Mother. I was dragging Schmitt out of one and the wh . . . woman said he refused to pay her. Schmitt cuffed her hard enough to draw blood.”
“And Miss Thompson?”
“She came to the woman’s rescue and insisted Schmitt pay her. Her brother showed up and escorted her through a rather unruly crowd that had gathered. She left her little bag on the stoop in front of the brothel. I returned it to her a few days later.”
“Ah. She left an impression on you, then.”
“She came charging through the crowd without a second thought for her own safety or that the woman she tended with her own handkerchief was a working woman.”
“Impressive,” his mother said. “And quite beautiful.”
Alexander shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, my dear boy,” she said with a smile and kissed his cheek. “This must be serious.”
He took his hat from Webster’s hands and went quickly out the door.
“Maybe we should go,” Elspeth said.
“We’ve not had our meal yet,” Kirsty said again.
“And the dessert Cook made is so beautiful and so delicious that I’d hate for you to miss it,” Annabelle said.
Elspeth dropped into her chair and looked up at both women with a cheerful smile. “What were we discussing? Oh yes, the shrinking crinolette! How glad I would be to not have to wear one at all!”
Both women stared at her until she picked up her spoon and began to eat the cooling consommé. Slowly, conversation resumed and she was able to compliment the wonderful food without truly tasting a thing and admire the sugar-glazed petits fours and the marzipan strawberries that decorated them without really seeing them. Kirsty chattered merrily on the trolley ride home about the beautiful house and the lovely table and food and how much she liked and admired Annabelle Pendergast.
“We’re to go shopping next week,” Kirsty said. “What day is best for you?”
Elspeth looked at her sister for the first time since boarding the trolley. “No,” she said, perhaps too loudly as several riders turned to them. “No. I am not going. Don’t ask again.”
Kirsty stared at her. “What has he done or said to you, Elspeth? What?”
She shook her head and fought tears. “Nothing. He is nothing to me.”
“You lie, Sister,” Kirsty whispered and stood. “Here is our stop.”
“Aunt tells me that you and Kirsty were guests of Annabelle Pendergast today. She is the sister of the Mr. Pendergast that escorted you home a few weeks ago?” Muireall said to Elspeth once grace had been said before their evening meal.
Elspeth glanced around the table. Muireall was at the head, looking pointedly at her and Aunt Murdoch at the foot of the table, concentrating on slicing the lamb on her plate. James was across from her, looking at her from under hooded brows, his empty plate in front of him. Kirsty was to her right and Payden beside James.
“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked and nodded at James’s plate.
“I’ve a bout tonight. You know I don’t eat before a fight.”
“It isn’t healthy, James,” Aunt Murdoch rumbled as she eyed a turnip on her fork.
“Why did you go to the Pendergasts’?” Muireall asked.
Elspeth turned her head and looked her sister in the eye. “Because we were invited by the daughter of the house. Because Kirsty and she seemed to get along so well, even on short acquaintance. Because there was no reason to not attend. We are not prisoners here, and we have all the social graces we’ve been raised with to fend for ourselves during a meal when there are several forks and spoons at a setting, all real silver, of course, and Wedgewood china and Waterford crystal.”
“Damn Irish,” Murdoch said.
“Aunt said a swear word, James,” Payden said. “Why is she allowed and I am not?”
“Because I’m one hundred years old, and when you get to that age, you can say anything you damn well please.”
“You are not one hundred, Aunt.” Kirsty laughed. “Don’t believe her, Payden!”
“How old do you have to be to use swear words?” he asked.
Muireall still stared at Elspeth. “Of course you have the manners of a young woman raised properly. I never said you did not. But yet you continue to defy me, defy the family, and nurture a relationship with these people who we know nothing about.”
“Why do you believe there is something sinister about them, Muireall? You must have reasons for your arguments. Tell me. Tell us. What is it about that family that makes you unreasonable?” Elspeth asked.
Muireall sputtered, her face bright red.
“That is enough of that conversation,” Aunt Murdoch said. “It is not suitable for the dinner table. Ring the bell, Payden. Mrs. McClintok will be clearing our dishes and serving us dessert.”
“No dessert for me. I’ll be on my way to the match soon. Ladies? Payden?” James said as he stood.