Page 49 of Murder at the Debutante Ballby

I glanced over my shoulder. “I am lost, as it happens.”

The maid I’d just seen in the storeroom approached with a fresh folded towel. “I couldn’t help overhearing.” She handed it to me and bobbed a shallow curtsy. “Have a good day, Miss Fox.”

“Thank you…?”

“Martha.”

“Thank you, Martha.” I smiled at her, smiled at Mr. Chapman, and hurried on my way.

“Miss Fox!” he snapped.

I stopped, wincing. I’d almost got away with it. Mr. Chapman was no fool, however. He’d see right through my lie. The question was, what would he do about it? And if he did threaten me, what would I be forced to say to him?

He nodded at the towel in my hands. “Next time, call for service. Fetching towels is a maid’s duty.” He turned on his heel and marched off.

I mouthed “Thank you” to Martha and left, too.

I knew it would be some time before Harmony could rejoin me so I went in search of Flossy. We spent the afternoon together, going for a walk and then enjoying afternoon tea with some of her friends. Amelia Livingstone’s social demise was on everyone’s lips, not just within our group but the entire sitting room seemed to hum like a beehive with the whispers about her.

Even though I disliked her, I felt sorry for her. She’d lost so much, and all because she’d followed her heart. When I expressed sympathy for her plight, I was resoundingly admonished for it, however.

“She doesn’t deserve your sympathy,” said one of Flossy’s friends. “She’s not a very nice person.”

“She thought she was above us all,” said another.

“She refused to even acknowledge my existence,” added a third. “I’m convinced it’s because I’m plain.”

Flossy patted her hand. “You have a beautiful character. That’s all that matters.”

The other two girls agreed somewhat half-heartedly.

Flossy plucked a tart off the tiered platter and studied the glacé cherry on top. “It goes to show that we must be careful who we give our hearts to. The gentleman must be beyond reproach. He must be quality.” She turned to me. “Don’t you agree, Cleo?”

She gave me an arched look, but I couldn’t quite decipher it. Was she making a general statement, or indicating that she suspected something was going on between Harry and me? She couldn’t know about the kiss, but she did know that we worked together. Perhaps she’d made an assumption based on the way I spoke about him.

I bestowed the sort of benign smile on her that Amelia Livingstone bestowed on the world. “I do agree, Flossy. He must be the sort of man who doesn’t kiss and tell.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. She made sounds of agreement then pushed the entire tart into her mouth.

I was headingout with my family to dine with their friends, so I requested Harmony’s assistance to arrange my hair before she did Flossy’s.

“Well?” I asked when she closed the door to my suite behind her. “Did you have an opportunity to ask Annie?”

“I did.”

“What did she say?”

“First, show me what you’re wearing tonight.”

I padded to my bedroom in bare feet and showed her the green chiffon and white lace evening gown I’d laid out on the bed. “It’s one Madame Poitiers’ seamstresses made for me.”

She assisted me into my underthings and the dress, tying laces and securing fastenings before directing me to sit at the dressing table. “How would you like me to do your hair?”

I waved my hand at our reflections in the mirror. “I don’t mind. You decide.” I swiveled in the chair to look at her. “Well? What did Annie say?”

She gripped the top of my head like she was unscrewing a jar lid and turned me back to face the mirror. She removed pins from my hair and watched as the long brown tresses cascaded over my shoulders and down my back. “On the night of the ball she overheard an argument between Lady Bunbury and Mr. McDonald.”

“What about?”