“I was ill for a good part of it.” Miss Carmichael laughed ruefully. “My mother told me not to mention that.”
No, she must be the perfect racehorse. Highly strung but always elegant. Nothing unpleasant, like seasickness, was allowed to mar her.
“My sister Clara was green much of the time too,” Evie confided. “Marjorie was not. Her health is appallingly good. It was my task to keep her from climbing all over the ship.”
Miss Carmichael laughed again, the strain about her eyes relaxing.
Not for long. The prune-faced biddy strode back in a hurry, her expression thunderous. Miss Carmichael’s smile faded like sunshine behind threatening clouds.
“So pleased to have met you,” Miss Carmichael jabbered. “I am afraid you must go.”
Gavina stood her ground, giving the approaching biddy a frosty look. “We hope to see you again,” she said sincerely.
“We’re at the Langham,” Miss Carmichael answered in a near-whisper.
“Ladies.” The biddy glared at the three, mouth puckered. “I am certain you mean well, but Miss Carmichael is not to become acquainted with anyone her parents have not introduced her to.”
“Pity,” Gavina said. She scrabbled in her handbag and thrust a cardboard rectangle at the woman. “Please give my card to her mother and father, in case they decide they’d like to introduce us.”
Miss Carmichael’s eyes widened at the same time her mouth twitched. Iris turned away to hide her laughter. Evie stood by Gavina, sending Miss Carmichael a reassuring smile.
The woman snatched the card from Gavina and frowned at the name but tucked it into her pocket. “Now, Miss Carmichael shall eat her dinner. Good day, ladies.”
“Good day, Miss Carmichael,” Evie said in the friendliest tone she could muster.
Iris and Gavina chimed in, and Miss Carmichael, looking happier than Evie had yet seen her, returned the farewell.
“Good heavens, what a farce,” Gavina muttered as they glided away. “They probably lock her in her bedroom at night and rub all kinds of concoctions on her skin to keep her complexion pure. We ought to kidnap her and take her out for a fine time.”
Iris agreed, appearing keen to snatch the girl away here and now, but Evie shook her head.
“Her parents might lock her in more tightly if we did,” she warned, “or even take her back to America.”
“Where she’d be much happier,” Gavina said. “It’s cruel to render someone miserable to satisfy your own ambitions. I propose we—” She broke off. “Oh, there are Alec and Mal. I’m surprised the doorman let them in.” She waved, and the younger of the two men who’d entered the foyer waved back.
“Gavina,” the younger one said, when the three reached them. “I’m surprised they admitted you.”
“I’ve just said that about you. What are you scoundrels doing here?”
“Taking lunch,” the younger man said. “We’re hungry. They have food here.”
“But you can’t put your elbows on the table and quaff your whisky at the Argyle,” Gavina said. “Better find a pub. These are my friends, Miss McKnight and Miss Georgiou. Ladies, these reprobates are Alec and Malcolm Mackenzie. Uncle Hart’s miscreant offspring.”
“Charmed.” The younger man, Malcolm, had dark red hair and eyes like Jamie’s, though the blue of them was lighter. “What beautiful friends you have, Gavina. Where have you been hiding them?”
“Away from you,” Gavina answered good-naturedly.
Malcolm gazed into the dining room. “And what delectable young woman were you speaking with? I could feast on the sight of her, instead of the fine beefsteak this place is supposed to serve.”
“Spare her, please,” Gavina said. “You wouldn’t be able to get close anyway. She has a dragon guarding her.”
Malcolm rubbed his hands and shot Evie a wink. “I love a challenge.”
Gavina’s expression became exasperated, but she didn’t pursue it. Evie had the feeling that Malcolm—he’d be Lord Malcolm Mackenzie—spouted these sorts of things all the time.
The older one, Lord Alec, had said not a word. He was staring at Iris, golden eyes fixed, hard face still, looking for all the world like he’d been poleaxed.
“Atherton.” Jamie greeted him in the Portland Club much later that evening.
After leaving Brigitte’s home and parting ways with Atherton this afternoon, Jamie had sent a note to Evie advising her to spend another night with Gavina. He’d made a few more inquiries then arranged to meet with Atherton again.
Atherton took his seat and signaled the waiter to bring them another decanter of whisky. “I do enjoy your company, Mackenzie, but my father will start lecturing me about gadding about in clubs all the day long.”
“You won’t see much more of me after this.” Jamie waved away the glass of whisky the waiter poured for them and paused until the man had retreated.
“Oh? Are you traveling somewhere?”
“No,” Jamie answered, leaning back in his chair. “But you probably won’t want to speak to me again once we are done.” He sent Atherton a beatific smile. “I’m here to blackmail you.”
Chapter 19
Atherton started, his color rising, then he appeared to relax. “Very amusing, Mackenzie.”
“I am serious.” Jamie touched his fingertips together. “A wise man told me I should learn all I could about a problem before deciding how to approach it. That things aren’t always what they seem. Today, you handed me the last piece of the puzzle.”
Atherton blinked. “You mean introducing you to Brigitte? What the devil, Mackenzie.” His smile returned, becoming a smirk. “If you are threatening to blackmail me over Brigitte, I must say, do your worst. She is not a secret to my friends. Many men take mistresses. I wager you have?”
“I’ve had love affairs, yes,” Jamie conceded. “But no, I’ve never taken what you call a mistress. Whenever I have a lover, that lady is the focus of my attention. I don’t keep her dangling on a string while I pursue another. That’s not fair to either of them.”
“Fair?” Atherton scoffed. “It has nothing to do with being fair. It is the way of the world.”
“And if Miss McKnight discovers your mistress?” Jamie said, holding in his anger with effort. “Do you think she’d believe it was fair?”
“A wife never knows,” Atherton said with a superior air. “And even if she does find out, she says nothing and looks the other way. Husbands have mistresses, and a good wife doesn’t needle him about it.”
Jamie let out an exaggerated sigh. “You dig your grave so very deep. You say all men take mistresses. Does your father?”
Atherton’s expression turned incredulous. “Good Lord, no. Now you’re delving into the realm of fairy tales. My father, I believe, has lain with a woman exactly once, and here is the result.” He spread his arms.
“It is always difficult to believe our parents were ever young and lusty,” Jamie said. “Mine, however, still kiss passionately in the halls of the ancestral home. One has to slide around them.” He shook his head in feigned despair. “My father, actually, saved my mother from an unfortunate betrothal. I have decided to do the same for Evie.”