“No.”
Driscoll lowered his voice. “I prefer not to bring this up here and now, Dante.”
“Hunt is a partner, or have you forgotten that minor fact? He has as much right to know about shortages as we do.”
“Not until we have done more research on it ourselves.”
“Ah, but I feel as though you are not doing the proper research.”
Driscoll placed his fisted hands on the table. “Exactly what is it you are accusing me of?”
“Are you two still arguing about Miss Pence?” Hunt took his seat and studied the two of them.
“There is nothing wrong with Miss Pence’s final tally reports.” Driscoll practically growled at Dante.
Dante shrugged. “If you say so.”
“How did you find this female dealer?” Hunt motioned to the footman to bring another pot of coffee.
; “She fell into his lap, as it were,” Dante said, grinning widely.
Driscoll made to jump up and swing at his brother. Hunt grabbed the back of Driscoll’s jacket. “Knock it off. What’s the matter with the two of you? And don’t think for one minute I believe you walked into a door, Dante. More like into Driscoll’s fist.”
“Hunt!”
The scream from upstairs had Hunt jumping up and racing to the breakfast room doorway. A woman, who Driscoll assumed was Diana’s lady’s maid met him, wringing her hands. “Her waters have broken, my lord.”
“What? Did she spill a glass of water on herself? Is that why she’s wailing up there?” He gestured with his thumb at the floor above them and the sound of Diana crying.
“No, my lord. Her waters have broken. You must send for Dr. Reading.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so, instead of talking about spilled water?” Hunt headed to the front door. “Peters, send for Dr. Reading. I think Lady Huntington is having the baby.”
Dante and Driscoll looked at each other and immediately left the breakfast room. “I think this is a good time for us to take our leave.” Driscoll pounded Hunt on his back. “Send word when it is all over.”
Like two scurrying lads in trouble with the headmaster, Driscoll and his brother grabbed their hats from Peters and fled the house.
15
“Oh, yes, Miss, the gowns and jewelry the ladies wear will make you swoon!” Margie’s eyes grew wide as she described the upcoming ball to Amelia.
Margie, Amelia, Betsy, and even Mrs. Bannon, the cook, were sipping afternoon tea at the long worktable in the kitchen and raising each other’s delight at the impending event.
“I am very excited. I’ve never been to a fashionable ball before,” Amelia said. ’Twas quite unfortunately true, despite her birth. All she’d been able to attend were a few local assemblies while in residence at the Newton country estate. As the daughter of a marquess and stepdaughter of a viscount, she’d grown up dreaming of her own Season, visits to the modiste, rides in Hyde Park, suitors calling with flowers spouting poor poetry, musicales, the theater and museums. And most of all, dancing until dawn with handsome gentlemen.
Given her current circumstances, a fairy tale, to be sure.
“We have gowns in storage you can borrow,” Betsy said, directing her comment to Amelia. “Most of us will do the same. Mr. Rose and his brother were kind enough when we held the first ball to make sure all the employees were included, and that they had appropriate clothing to wear.”
Although she’d never worn other women’s clothes before she came to The Rose Room, she was grateful to at least have something nice for the ball. As elegant as her work gowns were, they were just that. Work gowns. If she weren’t saving every penny for her escape, she would buy something new, but since this life was not hers forever, she could not justify the waste of money.
“I say, ‘tis only a week until the ball. Why don’t we visit the storage room now and see what we have for Miss Pence?” Betsy stood abruptly, not waiting for anyone’s agreement.
“Yes.” Margie clapped her hands and looked over at Mrs. Bannon. “Do we have time before we need to prepare for tonight’s supper?”
The older woman smiled at the young girls’ enthusiasm. “Yes. I believe we do.” She glanced at the clock on the counter against the wall. “We have about thirty or forty minutes.”