he was greatly disturbed by its contents. It contained a hurried account of a mysterious woman claiming her son was Jamie’s heir, and that the family was in dire financial straits. Indeed, the news was so dire it seemed as if the house of Montague was about to come crashing down. Giles asked Ross to go and see this woman, who was in lodgings in Cheapside, for himself, and afterwards to seek out his brother Harry while he was in London and explain the situation. Ross must also emphasise to Harry the importance of finding out what had happened to Jamie, and that it was imperative that Harry left for Spain as soon as he was able.
Folding the letter, Ross sat down to draft a note to his cousin Harry.
Before sitting down to dinner, Ross sought his aunt’s company in order to see what other troubles might have befallen the Montagues in his absence. He was shocked to discover that his sister had broken her betrothal to Lord Antony Bennington, son and heir of the Earl of Cawood in Cambridgeshire. Ross was disappointed. From what he remembered of young Bennington the man was an agreeable sort. Was there any good news to be had? he wondered to himself.
‘Araminta must have had good reason to cry off her betrothal to young Bennington,’ Ross said with a troubled frown. Having played nursemaid, surrogate father and guardian to Araminta all her life, she was in part the reason why he had returned to England, to provide the final direction she needed to cross the threshold into matrimony. It would seem he was going to have his work cut out to have her settled before he could return to India. ‘How has it affected her?’
‘Araminta is a girl of too much resolution and energy of character to allow herself to dwell on useless and unseemly sorrow for the past,’ Aunt Grace said. ‘Naturally she was regretful for a while, but she has wisely turned her attention towards the future, which is vastly more important to her than pining for what is lost.’
‘Do you know what happened to make her break off the betrothal? Did she not speak of it to you?’
‘No, she did not. The only reason she would give was that they did not suit—but I heard from a reliable source that Araminta caught him in a dalliance with a young woman by the name of Elizabeth Walton.’
Ross looked at Araminta with concern when she walked in and sat beside her aunt on the sofa. Looking at her now he noted her eyes held a certain sadness, and Ross was not at all convinced that she had put her broken betrothal behind her.
‘You haven’t forgotten that we’re going shopping tomorrow, have you, Araminta?’ Grace said as they settled down to dinner. ‘I thought we might start by visiting the Exchange. Of course, all the best shops are on Bond or Bruton Street. If we have the time we can go there after.’
‘You may have to go alone. I swear I have the onset of a headache. I think I shall lie in, if you don’t mind.’
‘But I do mind. Fresh air will be more beneficial to you than lying in bed all day. I’ll send Sarah in to pamper you if you like.’
‘How very generous of you, Aunt Grace. You know I’m in need of a maid of my own, for while Sarah is diligent, she has so much to do. She is always in a hurry and knows nothing of dressing me properly. Little wonder I appear at dinner looking half dressed and my hair all mussed up,’ Araminta complained.
Ross pricked up his ears and looked at his sister, an image of the delectable Miss Napier drifting into his mind. ‘You require a maid?’
‘I most certainly do,’ Araminta replied adamantly. ‘I’ve mentioned it to Aunt Grace before but she never seems to get round to it.’
‘That’s true,’ Grace said. ‘There always seems to be so much to think about. But I agree, Araminta, you really do need a maid of your own.’
‘Then might I suggest someone?’ Ross said, feeling a strange lift to his heart. ‘I met a young woman yesterday. She’s been in India and is employed as maid to a lady and her daughter who reside in Chelsea. Her position is to be terminated in three weeks and she is looking for another post.’
‘Why?’ Araminta asked suspiciously. ‘What has she done?’
‘Nothing. Her employers are moving to Brighton and she will no longer be required.’
Ross’s suggestion cheered Araminta somewhat. She studied the almost fond smile upon her brother’s face as he spoke of the girl and noted the gleam in his eyes. He seldom smiled, she knew, unless the smile was seductive or cynical, and when he was in the presence of his uncle, the Duke of Rothermere, he rarely laughed. It was almost as though he believed sentimentality silly and anything that was silly was abhorrent and made a man vulnerable. She was intrigued. Was it possible that he’d developed a special fondness for this maid?
‘What is this extraordinary female’s name and what does she look like?’ Araminta asked, anxious to discover more about the girl who’d had such an unusual effect on her brother.
‘Her name is Lisette Napier. She is quite tall, slender and dark haired. Her speech is as cultured as yours and mine. Her manners are impeccable and she is presentable.’
‘And how old is she?’
‘I believe she is twenty.’
‘I see. Isn’t that a little young to be a lady’s maid?’
‘And will she make a suitable maid?’ Aunt Grace asked.
‘I really have no idea about such things, but I’m sure Mrs Arbuthnot would not employ her if she wasn’t any good at her job.’
‘Well, heaven forbid if she’s prettier than Araminta. It would never do for a maid to be more becoming than her mistress.’
‘Oh, that doesn’t matter,’ Araminta remarked happily, having already decided to take Miss Napier on—for her brother’s sake as well as her own need and curiosity. ‘I should very much like for you to hire her, Ross.’
‘I expect you could do worse than give her a chance—perhaps for a trial period of a month. See how she gets on.’
‘Yes—yes, I will. Decent servants are neither easy to find, cheap to train, nor simple to keep. I would like to meet her first.’
Ross nodded and began to attack the roast lamb with renewed relish. ‘I’ll do my best. I have no doubt that Mr Arbuthnot’s address can be located through East India House.’
The Arbuthnot family had been at home in Chelsea for a few days when Lottie dressed early and told Lisette to prepare for a trip to the Royal Exchange to do some shopping. There were some items she wished to purchase before she left for Brighton. Glad of the opportunity to escape the stilted confines of the house, where she found the work hard for both Mrs Arbuthnot and Lottie demanded their pound of flesh, and eager to see more of London, Lisette put on her coat and bonnet and prepared to enjoy herself for a couple of hours or so.
When the carriage turned in to Cornhill, both girls were in good spirits. They stared with excitement at the immense stone front of the facade of the Exchange with its high arcades and column and the clock tower reaching skyward.
Alighting from the carriage they went through the archway where the arcade square of the Exchange opened up before them. It was filled with merchants and traders and hawkers of wares, mingling with people of all occupations and positions and gentlemen in military uniforms. It was a fashionable place to shop and used as a rendezvous, much frequented by beaux waiting to meet a lady bent on flirtation.
‘Oh, what a wonderful place,’ Lisette murmured, breathing in the different smells that reached her, from roasting chestnuts to hot pies and horse dung. She was captivated by the sight and would have stopped, but Lottie was moving on through the yard. She hurried after her.
Taking hold of Lisette’s arm, Lottie was unable to conceal her excitement, blushing delightedly when a handsome young soldier touched his hat and winked at her. ‘I think I would like to have a look round the little stalls in the yard first but the shops upstairs are always the best.’
And so they passed a pleasant half-hour browsing among the stalls with Lottie dipping