Mrs. Price-Jones considered that, then shook her head. “I won’t rule him out until I’ve met him. Rakes can be delightful company, yet it must be admitted that many are unreliable and often untrustworthy. Some, however, are redeemable, I believe. Who else?”
Leo looked at her blankly. Apart from Race, he hadn’t made any attempt to introduce the girls to his friends.
“Sir Jasper Vibart seems both eligible and charming,” Isobel said. She glanced briefly at Leo—the first time that day—and batted her eyelashes. Mocking him.
His temper flared. “Completely unacceptable,” he snapped. “And dangerous. Apart from being a notorious rake, Sir Jasper also gambles recklessly and to excess.” He’d warned her about Vibart. Why the devil didn’t she listen?
“I wonder if Sir Jasper is as handsome and charming as his father was?” Mrs. Price-Jones said, adding reluctantly, “But the Vibarts have always been ruinous gamblers. Flirt with him if you wish, dear gel, but do not let it go any further. Next?”
Leo clenched his jaw. The woman irritated him. She might dress like a grim gorgon, but she wasn’t behaving like any chaperone he’d ever heard of. Chaperones were supposed to keep their charges away from rakes and unworthy men and to ensure their behavior was demure and circumspect. Instead, this wretched woman was openly encouraging Isobel to flirt with the blasted man. Despite Leo’s warning.
He was stuck with her now. Why had he ever thought his aunt’s recommendation was a good idea? He could hardly sack her dear old friend.
Mrs. Price-Jones peered at him, then shook her head. “Is that all then? Tsk tsk, I can see I have my work cut out for me. Still, thank you for dropping by, Lord Salcott. The gels and I are going shopping now.”
It was a clear dismissal. Leo could hardly believe his ears. He was this woman’s employer, and yet she’d as good as told him to run along as if he were the little boy she claimed to remember. He could hardly argue, however, and besides he had nothing else to say.
And Isobel was freezing him out, acting as if he didn’texist, and while he’d told her they needed to put some distance between them, he’d meantin public.
But he couldn’t explain that here with this woman watching him with her bright beady eyes.
“Would you care to come driving in the park this afternoon?” he asked the girls. He’d find an opportunity then to explain to Isobel about what had happened the previous night. And remove that unsettling expression from her eyes.
Mrs. Price-Jones answered for them. “Charming of you to invite us, dear boy, but as I said, we are going shopping. Two gels making their come-out—you men have no understanding of how much there is to be done. Good day.” She beamed an even more pointed dismissal at him.
Leo bowed curtly, wished them all a good day and stalked from the room.
As the door closed behind him, he heard a burst of feminine laughter and gritted his teeth. A chaperone was supposed to solve his problems, not add to them.
***
On that first day in London, Mrs. Price-Jones embarked on an orgy of shopping, starting with Miss Chance’s dress shop. After a brief exchange with Miss Chance, she sent the girls off to entertain themselves at Hatchards bookshop or wherever took their fancy, saying that she’d be at least two hours.
Izzy and Clarissa happily obliged, amused that the first action of the dreaded chaperone was to send them off by themselves.
Returning to Miss Chance’s two hours later, they couldn’t believe the transformation. “The Black Crow of Doom is no more, eh, gels?” she said, beaming as she twirled delightedly. “I am myself again!”
Izzy and Clarissa blinked. Mrs. Price-Jones’s dress was bright yellow, worn under a vivid red-and-blue-patterned spencer. Around her shoulders she’d draped a multicoloredshawl of which green, orange and purple were the main colors. It was one of Lady Scattergood’s, Izzy thought. She must have brought it with her.
With one accord the two girls looked at Miss Chance, whose taste was usually impeccable.
Miss Chance simply laughed. “We’ve let out her inner butterfly. Mrs. Price-Jones fell in love with that yeller dress and so we got all my girls working like fury to get the alterations done so she could wear it. Wait ’til you see what else is coming.”
Inner butterfly?More like a multicolored parrot, Izzy thought. But she had to admit the vivid clash of colors suited Mrs. Price-Jones much better than unrelieved black.
“I’ve had the most divine time,” Mrs. Price-Jones declared happily. “And look what else I bought.” She brought out two items of nightwear—just wisps of satin, net and lace in red and black—and draped them suggestively against her body. “Bea Davenham told me about these—a speciality of Daisy’s. Aren’t they wonderfully improper?”
Izzy laughed. The garments looked rather too dashing for a widow in her sixth decade, but the woman’s clear delight in her new possessions was irresistible.
After that they went to a milliner that Miss Chance had recommended, where Mrs. Price-Jones gleefully purchased several large, colorful, splashy hats. “Here you are, my dear,” she said, handing the milliner’s assistant the strange black hat with the black canary and black cherries. “Burn the horrid thing!”
She plopped the biggest hat on her head and turned to Izzy and Clarissa with a grin. “Now I feel much more myself again. Let’s go to Gunter’s for ices.”
***
Leo needed to talk to Isobel alone. He was certain now that she’d taken his advice about keeping their distance in public completely the wrong way. And that expressionwhen she looked at him—correction, avoided looking at him—was... disturbing.
He sent a message to Treadwell asking him to inform Leo the moment the young ladies returned from their shopping expedition. His aunt’s young footman brought the news the following afternoon. Apparently the shopping had taken almost two full days. He confided that he’d carried more than twenty-six parcels upstairs, and the ladies were expecting more to be delivered.
