That wasn’t what he’d meant at all. “This is an unbearable assault on my time, Mrs. Honeycutt.”
“Unbearableseems a bit of an exaggeration. I believe the information belongs to the public.”
“I assure you, it does not.”
She drummed her fingers on the edge of his desk. “All right, you force me to tip my hand.” She leaned forward and said softly, “I’m gathering very important information for the duchess. You could play a heroic role, if you were so inclined.”
He snorted and picked up a carrot. “Gather more dieting advice, Mrs. Honeycutt. You’re better suited to it.”
Her eyebrows sank low. “Why, thank you! I hope you will heed some of that advice soon. And yet, that is still beside the point.”
“Madam. I have been very firm in this. You cannot look at the manifests. For any reason.”
She tilted her head to one side. “When you sayfirm...precisely how firm do you mean?”
Mr. Kettle put down his carrot and stood from his chair. “Must I escort you from the premises?”
“Thank you, but if there’s any escorting to be done, I’ll do it,” her Adonis said, coming forward.
“Fine. Then please, sir,” Mr. Kettle said, and gestured impatiently at Mrs. Honeycutt.
She glared at him. She stood up. She leaned across the desk and said, “I will have the information one way or another, Mr. Kettle. You’ll see.” And with that, she swiped up one of his carrots and walked out of the room.
Mr. Kettle looked down at his meager lunch, suddenly reduced by half. That woman! Why did no one take her in hand?
CHAPTER FIVE
Quite a commotion was witnessed in the modest streets of Bedford Square when the Duchess of Tannymeade called at her father’s home with the Princess Cecelia in her arms. Guards lined the street and kept onlookers at a respectable distance as the duchess and her party entered the residence. More than one witness reported gales of laughter coming from the open windows and, dear readers, one witness was this author.
The revered Justice Tricklebank, father of the elegant Duchess of Tannymeade, has said he means to accept a position on one of the new county court benches and remove himself from the London air. One hopes he will not remove himself as far as Kent, where neighbors to a very large and famous park mansion have complained that on nights the windows are kept open, the row between lord and lady can be heard for miles around.
—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and Domesticity for Ladies
ITHADREQUIREDthree large coaches to bring Eliza, little Cecelia, the nurse, and the number of guards the duke had undoubtedly insisted accompany her to the Tricklebank home. A crowd of onlookers and gawkers hoping for a glimpse of the little princess had gathered in the green, through which Hollis had to push to reach the door of her father’s home.
She smiled up at one of the guards. “Mrs. Honeycutt,” she said, and the guard allowed her to pass.
If her family didn’t know she’d arrived, Jack and John, the family dogs, were on hand to alert one and all of the arrival of more foreign invaders.
“For heaven’s sake!” Hollis cooed when Ben, the house steward, opened the door. She squatted down to greet the dogs properly, laughing as they tried to lick her face.
“Down, you bloody dogs,down!” Ben bellowed as Hollis stood to remove her cloak.
“It’s quite all right, Ben,” Hollis said cheerfully. “I am very happy to see them, too.”
Ben shut the door and took Hollis’s coat.
“Thank you, Ben. Has Caro arrived?”
“Aye, she has and is already at the telling of some long tale,” he said with a fond grin.
“Mrs. Honeycutt!” Hollis’s father bellowed from deeper in the house. “Is that you? Have you come at last?”
“I have indeed, Pappa!” she called back. She patted down her hair and entered the drawing room.
Poppy was the first person she saw, standing just inside the door, as if she’d just arrived herself. Poppy was the maid who had attended them all these years. Hollis’s mother had discovered her, a proper orphan, and brought her home. She was so close in age to Hollis and Eliza that they had always viewed her as another sister. Poppy cried out with delight as Hollis walked into the room. Hollis grinned...but her grin fell when Poppy darted past her to the far end of the room. She saw then that Eliza and baby Cecelia were standing near the bookshelves, and Poppy’s cry of delight had been for the baby. “May I hold her, please?” Poppy asked, reaching for the baby.
“Well,” Hollis said, and toyed with a ringlet over her ear. “I will endeavor not to be offended.”
