sorry, Sir Joshua, but I have another appointment that requires me—”
“But I am very interested in Mr. Tildesley’s invention,” Rory broke in again. “Ye go on. I, myself, find the security of one’s home and collections to be such an important matter.”
Poor Miss Blois was utterly scandalized at Rory’s apparent enthusiasm, and tugged at his elbow, as if she were trying to rein in a horse.
But Sir Joshua, who knew Rory’s very real interest in the subject, proceeded with his information, oblivious to her discomfort. “Each of the doors and windows has its own alarmed lock that can only be turned off with its own key. And I’ll tell you another secret, Miss Blois. We have adapted a Tildesley lock to sit under the statue. And in this instance, when the statue is lifted, and the weight removed from the spring lock, the bell within that lock will go off, and the runners will come running to seize the perpetrator.”
“I say, that is clever.”
Sir Joshua was pleased by the praise. “Quite ingenious, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Blois?”
“Very much. Very, very clever. Bravo, Sir Joshua.” Miss Blois was determined to turn the conversation yet again. “But we must not take up any more of your most valuable time. As I said, I have an appointment that I must rush off to—”
“Oh, too bad, Miss Blois.” Rory disengaged his arm, and bowed to her before he turned back to Sir Joshua, knowing exactly how it would appear to her. “However, I should be delighted to stay and listen.”
But deceptively dainty Mignon Blois was not so easily thwarted—she stiffened that secretly steely spine. “Oh, but you are promised at Lady Arbuthnot’s as well. The dear lady cannot do without you. Thank you, dear sir.” She curtseyed again to Sir Joshua. “But am afraid we both must go,” she insisted, and took Rory’s elbow in a grip that would have done a gunner proud. “ Au revoir, Sir Joshua. Good day.”
“Well,” Rory commented as she whisked him out of the exhibition, “that was neatly accomplished. Well done, ye.”
“You impossible man.” She dropped his arm as soon as they were out in the courtyard. “Have you no shame? Have you no scruples at all?”
“The only ones I have, I’m sure I stole.”
“Oh, Bon Dieu . You’re utterly mad—quite irredeemable.” She backed away a step or two before she tried to shoo him off like a stray dog. “Go away before I am obliged to call the watch.”
He gave her one of his most charming smiles. “There is no watch in the daytime.”
Frustration was written all over her very pretty face. But Miss Blois had reserves of character she had not yet tapped. “A pity.” She crossed her arms over her chest in that delightfully uplifting manner that made his brain roll over on its belly, wanting to be scratched like the stray dog he in fact was. “Perhaps one of those runners inside would be vastly obliged to make your acquaintance? I understand that a good many runners are also thief takers.”
“So they say.” He’d used the Runners’ services himself a time or two. But not today—today he had already done all he needed to do. “I concede the point to ye, Miss Blois.”
“Well,” she muttered under her breath as she strode off through Somerset House’s stone portal. “It is a relief to find I am not the only one conceding.”
“Never fear, my dear Miss Blois.” He tipped his hat to her retreating back. “I am an old hand at all sorts of delicate concessions.”
Chapter Eight
Mignon came down the stairs in her best lavender watered silk evening robe à l’anglaise, and found her father admiring the huge floral bouquet that had been delivered a few hours earlier. “Are they not extravagantly beautiful?”
“The flowers? They are nothing to your beauty, my dear. But are they from an admirer?” Papa had a rather hopeful glint in his eye.
She was too flattered not to share at least a tiny bit of that hopefulness—no one in London
“But I am very interested in Mr. Tildesley’s invention,” Rory broke in again. “Ye go on. I, myself, find the security of one’s home and collections to be such an important matter.”
Poor Miss Blois was utterly scandalized at Rory’s apparent enthusiasm, and tugged at his elbow, as if she were trying to rein in a horse.
But Sir Joshua, who knew Rory’s very real interest in the subject, proceeded with his information, oblivious to her discomfort. “Each of the doors and windows has its own alarmed lock that can only be turned off with its own key. And I’ll tell you another secret, Miss Blois. We have adapted a Tildesley lock to sit under the statue. And in this instance, when the statue is lifted, and the weight removed from the spring lock, the bell within that lock will go off, and the runners will come running to seize the perpetrator.”
“I say, that is clever.”
Sir Joshua was pleased by the praise. “Quite ingenious, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Blois?”
“Very much. Very, very clever. Bravo, Sir Joshua.” Miss Blois was determined to turn the conversation yet again. “But we must not take up any more of your most valuable time. As I said, I have an appointment that I must rush off to—”
“Oh, too bad, Miss Blois.” Rory disengaged his arm, and bowed to her before he turned back to Sir Joshua, knowing exactly how it would appear to her. “However, I should be delighted to stay and listen.”
But deceptively dainty Mignon Blois was not so easily thwarted—she stiffened that secretly steely spine. “Oh, but you are promised at Lady Arbuthnot’s as well. The dear lady cannot do without you. Thank you, dear sir.” She curtseyed again to Sir Joshua. “But am afraid we both must go,” she insisted, and took Rory’s elbow in a grip that would have done a gunner proud. “ Au revoir, Sir Joshua. Good day.”
“Well,” Rory commented as she whisked him out of the exhibition, “that was neatly accomplished. Well done, ye.”
“You impossible man.” She dropped his arm as soon as they were out in the courtyard. “Have you no shame? Have you no scruples at all?”
“The only ones I have, I’m sure I stole.”
“Oh, Bon Dieu . You’re utterly mad—quite irredeemable.” She backed away a step or two before she tried to shoo him off like a stray dog. “Go away before I am obliged to call the watch.”
He gave her one of his most charming smiles. “There is no watch in the daytime.”
Frustration was written all over her very pretty face. But Miss Blois had reserves of character she had not yet tapped. “A pity.” She crossed her arms over her chest in that delightfully uplifting manner that made his brain roll over on its belly, wanting to be scratched like the stray dog he in fact was. “Perhaps one of those runners inside would be vastly obliged to make your acquaintance? I understand that a good many runners are also thief takers.”
“So they say.” He’d used the Runners’ services himself a time or two. But not today—today he had already done all he needed to do. “I concede the point to ye, Miss Blois.”
“Well,” she muttered under her breath as she strode off through Somerset House’s stone portal. “It is a relief to find I am not the only one conceding.”
“Never fear, my dear Miss Blois.” He tipped his hat to her retreating back. “I am an old hand at all sorts of delicate concessions.”
Chapter Eight
Mignon came down the stairs in her best lavender watered silk evening robe à l’anglaise, and found her father admiring the huge floral bouquet that had been delivered a few hours earlier. “Are they not extravagantly beautiful?”
“The flowers? They are nothing to your beauty, my dear. But are they from an admirer?” Papa had a rather hopeful glint in his eye.
She was too flattered not to share at least a tiny bit of that hopefulness—no one in London
Similar Books
