Thick As Thieves by Joan Smith Page A

bonnets, I knew she was halfway in love with Lord Brockley. I had been trying for an age to give her a new bonnet, but she always suggested I give the money to charity, if I had more than I knew what to do with. My only consolation was that Lady Filmore, when she stopped for me, looked nearly as hagged as I.
    "What are your slippers doing in the front yard, Miss Denver?" she asked.
    "I threw them at those cats that were making such a racket last night," I admitted, and sent Mary out to retrieve them.
    "Good. I wondered why they suddenly stopped howling."
    This told me that she had not slept well either. Lord Harelson, I thought, was what had kept her awake.
    As soon as we were in her carriage, I said, "I hope you and Harelson patched up your quarrel last night?"
    "No, Mrs. Lament's was too public a place for that. I asked him to drive me home, but he said he was to meet Grindley at Mrs. Lament's later, so he could not come. He will call this afternoon if he does not go to Eastbourne to see his friend."
    We spent over an hour at Mrs. Drouin's shop on Paradise Street. I had to be measured, as I was a new client. The French modiste treated me like royalty, when I came under Lady Filmore's auspices. My voice never rose above a polite murmur, which is not its customary volume when I am in the hands of a modiste. I ordered three gowns, and meant to return to have some new clothes made up for winter as well. She was awaiting a shipment of silks that were being smuggled in from France. Her workmanship was of the finest, and her patterns all from France. Lady Filmore ordered a blue mulled muslin, a replica of a pink mulled muslin she had bought the year before.
    From there we drove to the milliner's. "I must have a new bonnet for your garden party, whatever Richard says," she pouted. "He is forever nagging at me for spending too much money. I declare, Miss Denver, I might as well be married, for he is as bad as a husband."
    I did not try to talk her out of a new bonnet. I could now wear my replica of her leghorn, the one she wears in her portrait at Somerset House, without fearing duplication. Her choice was a glazed straw with blue ribbons that tied under the chin. She looked so pretty in it, I don't know how Harelson could help falling in love with her.
    It was enjoyable, strolling through the shops with another young lady, especially as I had not left Hennie alone. It was good for us to get away from each other now and then. Being too much together is bound to grate on the nerves. I met a good many new people that morning. Lady Filmore was the darling of the ton, and I was accepted as her friend. Nearly everyone we met asked for Mr. Dalton. In the clear light of day, it seemed impossible to believe that such a well-established gentleman was trying to steal my jewels. Lady Filmore did not mention my having entrusted them to him, and as I was unsure whether he wished her to know, I did not mention it either, but it was often on my mind during that otherwise delightful morning.
    Hennie invited Lord Brockley to join us for luncheon. That was enjoyable, too. Not that his conversation added much of interest, but I was happy for Hennie's sake. He looked rather odd, all decked out in gray, from head to toe. Other than the color, his jacket and trousers were of the conventional cut. His conversation was peppered with the names of the great, even including the Prince of Wales.
    "Brighton is not what it was used to be," he said. "We had great times here in the old days. Coursing hares, hunting. That was before it got built up. We once hunted a carted stag all the way from the Steyne to Rottingdean. And of course, sailing and bathing, and all manner of mischief after dark. Prinny and Mrs. FitzHerbert—ah, 'tis a pity he ever left her. He was used to stay at Grove House in those days. Drove down from London in a post chaise to show his people how economical he was. Mrs. FitzHerbert had hired a house behind the Castle Inn, right at his back