Diana turned on them in a temper. “I have not set my cap or anything else for the duke.”
“Ooh, I wonder what ‘anything else’ means,” Verity said, her eyes dancing. “It sounds most unladylike.”
“And you sound unprofessional,” Diana retorted. “This is a business concern, and you two need to remember that.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Verity said with a salute. “Careful, Eliza, or she’ll crack the whip. Wait, do you think that’s what ‘anything else’ means? I somehow doubt Grenwood would enjoy such a thing.”
Diana sighed. “You two have spent far too much time reading gothic novels.”
“Trust me,” Eliza said, her eyes gleaming, “there is no whip cracking in gothic novels. We learned about that from our support of the Filmore Farm for Fallen Females. And have I ever said how much I hate the term ‘fallen females’?”
“Repeatedly,” Diana and Verity said in unison.
Eliza ignored them. “I mean, no one calls the men who use their services ‘fallen,’ do they?”
Verity snorted. “That’s because we live in a man’s world.” Even after four years, Verity was still bitter about losing her suitor due to the Incident.
“Speaking of a man’s world, Eliza,” Diana asked, “is Grenwood really a civil engineer?”
“How should I know? I’d heard nothing of him until he sent a note on the Duke of Grenwood’s stationery saying he wished to consult with us about the début of his sister.”
“You never told me it was for his sister.”
“Didn’t I?” Eliza said. “I could have sworn I did.”
Heat crept up Diana’s cheeks. “I thought she was his wife. It was quite the embarrassing moment when they corrected me.”
“I would have paid good money to have seen that,” Verity said. “You, embarrassed in a social situation—will wonders never cease? That happens so seldom as to be rare indeed.”
Diana glared at her. Her sisters laughed. Honestly, Diana didn’t know why they always treated her as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She had plenty of difficult moments in society. She just didn’t dwell on them.
Time to change the subject. “Verity, you never said whether you saw your ‘phantom fellow’ at the ball last night.”
“Oh, right.” She glanced at their other sister. “As I recall, I only told Eliza, but yes, I did see the phantom fellow at Lady Castlereagh’s ball. And once again, the footman I encountered refused to tell me his name. Well, really, he claimed he didn’t know who I was talking about. Which is absurd. Someone has to have seen the fellow, know the fellow.”
For the past few occasions they’d been involved in, Verity had insisted that she kept seeing the same man lurking in the hallways. She was sure he was up to some nefarious purpose, but he was dressed well and had the look of a gentleman. So how nefarious a purpose could it be?
“I still say he works for the Foreign Office, rooting out French spies in society,” Eliza said.
“He could be a circus performer for all I care,” Verity said. “I just want to know his name.”
“And why does he only show up around you?” Eliza asked. “You’d think someone else would have noticed him.”
Verity and Eliza speculated for a while, leaving Diana to sit in precious silence. Her sisters were clearly not ready to begin a serious discussion of their new clients. Nor could she blame them. They’d never had a pair quite like this one, making it hard to guide the Brookhouse siblings when not even the mother knew what was proper.
But Diana at least intended to find out what exactly a civil engineer did, and how a viscount’s grandson had come to be one.
Tomorrow should be an interesting day.
* * *
Geoffrey scowled out the window while his sister and mother talked of the next day’s plans. He would contrive to be gone when Elegant Occasions arrived at the town house tomorrow. Lady Disdain’s assessment of his fitness as a gentleman still smarted, and he wouldn’t give her another chance at condescending to him. The woman had a mouth that would sear a man’s skin.
Not to mention inflame other parts of him. He hated to admit it, but her lips had the most enticing shape. And her sweet little tongue . . . Every time she’d licked the tip of her pencil, he’d wondered what it would be like having her lick the tip of a certain part of him.
God help him. Arguing with her roused him in ways he’d never thought a fine lady could, even as she’d been insulting him! There could be no more of that, however much it stirred him. Too dangerous.
Besides, she hadn’t been entirely wrong about his need for more fashionable clothing. He’d been putting off having new attire made until he was in London, but that could no longer be postponed. The Season was upon them, and his need for new trousers had become dire, especially if he had to escort Rosy anywhere.