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Arbuthnott made it clear she did not want any enraged husbands knocking on her door to
make inquiries about their ladies' recent heavy losses in her drawing room.
A variety of daily newspapers and journals including the Times and the Morning Post
were always available in the club, as were a cold buffet, tea, sherry, and ratafia.
Augusta swept into the room and was immediately enveloped in the pleasant, relaxed
atmosphere. A plump, fair-haired woman seated at the writing desk glanced up and
Augusta nodded to her as she went past.
"How is your poetry going, Lucinda?" Augusta inquired. Lately it seemed that every
club member's burning ambition was to write. Augusta alone had escaped the call of the
muse. She was quite content to read the latest novels.
"Very well, thank you. You are looking in fine form this morning. Can we assume
good news?" Lucinda gave her a knowing smile.
"Thank you, Lucinda. Yes, you may assume the best. 'Tis positively amazing what a
weekend in the country can do for one's spirits."
"Or one's reputation."
"Precisely."
Augusta sailed on down the length of the room to where two women were enjoying
tea in front of the fire.
Lady Arbuthnott, patronness of Pompeia's and known to every member of the club as
Sally, was wearing a warm India shawl over her elegant, long-sleeved, rust-colored gown.
She was ensconced in the chair closest to the flames. From that vantage point she
commanded a view of the entire room. Her posture was, as always, elegantly graceful and
her hair was piled high in a fashionable coiffure. Lady Arbuthnott's charms had once
been the toast of Society.
A wealthy woman who had been widowed shortly after her marriage to a notorious
viscount thirty years earlier, Sally could afford to spend a fortune on her clothes and did
so. But all the fine silks and muslins in the world could not disguise the underlying
weariness and the painful thinness caused by the wasting disease that was slowly
destroying her.
Augusta was finding Sally's illness almost as hard to endure as Sally herself was
finding it. Augusta knew that losing Sally was going to be like losing her mother all over
again.
The two women had first met at a bookshop where they had both been perusing
volumes on historical subjects. They had struck up an immediate friendship which had
deepened quickly over the months. Although separated by years, their shared interests,
eccentricities, and sense of adventure had drawn them close. For Augusta, Sally became a
replacement for the mother she had lost. And for Sally, Augusta was the daughter she had
never had.
Sally had assumed the role of mentor in many ways, not the least of which was in
opening the doors of the ton's most exclusive drawing rooms. Sally's contacts in the
social world were legion. She had enthusiastically whisked Augusta into the whirl of
Society. Augusta's natural social abilities had secured her position in that Society.
For months the two women had enjoyed themselves immensely dashing about
London. And then Sally had begun to tire easily. In a short while it became evident that
she was seriously ill. She had retreated to her own home and Augusta had created
Pompeia's to entertain her.
In spite of the ravages of her illness, Sally's sense of humor and acute intelligence
were still very much intact. Her eyes sharpened with pleased amusement as she turned
her head and saw Augusta.
The young woman seated next to Lady Arbuthnott glanced up also, her pretty dark
eyes filled with anxiety. Rosalind Morrissey was not only the heiress to a considerable
fortune, she was also enchantingly attractive with her tawny brown hair and full-bosomed
figure.
"Ah, my dear Augusta," Sally said with deep satisfaction as Augusta bent down and
kissed her affectionately on the cheek. "Something tells me you have met with success,
hmmm? Poor Rosalind here has been quite overset for the past few days. You must put
her out of her misery."
"With pleasure. Here is your journal, Rosalind. Not exactly with Lord Enfield's
compliments, but what does that signify?" Augusta held out the small leather-bound
volume.
"You found it." Rosalind leaped to her feet and grabbed the journal. "I can hardly
believe it." She threw her arms around Augusta and gave her a quick hug. "What an
enormous relief. How can I possibly thank you? Was there any problem? Any danger? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]