Duke of Midnight (Maiden Lane #6)(62)

“Artemis!”

She looked up at the call, in time to see Penelope hurrying toward them, a beleaguered maid trailing behind, laden with packages.

“There you are,” her cousin exclaimed as she drew close, rather as if she’d somehow misplaced Artemis. “Hullo, Phoebe. Are you shopping?” Phoebe opened her mouth, but Penelope continued on without pause. “You wouldn’t believe the dreariness of my journey back to London. Nothing to do but embroider, and I pricked my thumb three times. I did try to have Blackbourne read to me, but her voice is quite sputtery, not at all like yours, Artemis, dear.”

“That must’ve been very trying for you.” Artemis hid a smile, feeling quite fond of her cousin suddenly.

“Well, of course I don’t mind lending you to Phoebe at all,” Penelope said carefully, and then rather spoiled the intent of her statement by adding, “Did the duke notice my generosity?”

Artemis’s lips parted, but no sound emerged, for her mind had come to a halt. The duke. Maximus. Penelope was still determined to have him as husband—of course she was! She didn’t know—nothing had changed for Penelope in the last two days.

While everything had changed for Artemis.

She’d lain with the man her cousin wanted as a husband, and she had a sudden urge to weep. It wasn’t fair—either to Penelope or herself. Life shouldn’t be this complicated. She should’ve stayed far, far away from the duke. Except that while she might’ve been able to hold the duke at length, Maximus the man was another matter entirely.

And despite the guilt that seeped through her veins like poison, she couldn’t help but feel that Maximus, if not the duke, belonged to her, not Penelope.

At least that was the way the world should be.

“… so grateful,” Phoebe was saying when Artemis became aware that the other two women were still talking. “I do appreciate you lending her to me.”

“Well, just as long as I get her back eventually,” Penelope said, sounding like she was regretting her beneficence, and Artemis realized with another horrid pang that she might never go back to Penelope. What did Maximus want with her? Would she become his mistress, or was he interested in only one night?

Blackbourne shifted, and one of the boxes in her arms began to slide.

“But I’d better go,” Penelope said, eyeing her purchases like a hawk. “The crowds are awful today, and I was forced to leave the carriage two streets over.”

They said their farewells, and Artemis watched Penelope retreat, chiding poor Blackbourne over the packages all the while.

“We’d best hurry,” Phoebe said, laying her hand on Artemis’s arm.

Artemis raised her eyebrows as she carefully guided the younger woman away from the noisome street. “To where?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Phoebe grinned up at her. “We’re meeting Hero for tea at Crutherby’s.”

“Oh.” Artemis couldn’t help a small jolt of pleasure. She quite liked the elder of the Batten sisters, though she didn’t know her as well as she knew Phoebe.

Another block further, just past an elegant millinery shop, Crutherby’s ornate sign loomed up ahead. A smiling maid opened the door, and Artemis immediately caught sight of a flaming head of hair sitting in the corner of the little shop.

“Miss Greaves!” Lady Hero Reading looked up at their approach. “What a lovely surprise. I hadn’t known you’d be accompanying Phoebe here today.”

“Lady Penelope has lent her to me,” Phoebe said as she felt for a chair and lowered herself into the seat. “We’ve been shopping.”

Hero rolled her eyes at Artemis. “She didn’t take you to that terrible tobacconist, did she?”

“Well…” Artemis tried to think of how to answer.

“It’s not terrible,” Phoebe said, rescuing her. “Besides, how else am I to surprise Maximus with snuff?”

“Maximus has quite enough snuff as it is,” Lady Hero said as two girls began placing tea things on the little table between them. “And I can’t help but think ’tisn’t quite respectable for an unmarried lady to be seen in such an establishment.”

Phoebe’s brows drew together ominously. “That’s the very shop you buy Lord Griffin’s snuff at.”

Hero looked smug. “And I’m no longer a maiden.”

“Shall I pour?” Artemis hastily cut in.

“Please,” Lady Hero said, distracted. “Oh, there are fairy cakes. I always like fairy cakes.”

“I did get something for you as well,” Phoebe said and fished the little bumblebee notebook from her pocket.

“Oh, Phoebe, you are a dear!” Lady Hero’s face shone with genuine delight.

Artemis felt a twinge of sadness. Of course the notebook wasn’t for Phoebe herself—she wasn’t sure the girl could see to read or write anymore. She looked down, careful to steady her hand as she poured. It wouldn’t do to spill the hot tea.

“It looks just like the one Mother used to have,” Hero murmured, still examining the notebook.

“Really?” Phoebe leaned forward.

“Mmm.” Her elder sister looked up. “Do you remember? I showed you it when you were in the schoolroom. Mother used it to remember names. She was dreadful at it, you know, and she hated to admit it, so she always had the notebook and a small pencil with her…” For a moment Lady Hero’s voice trailed away, and she stared into space as if looking at something far distant from the cozy teahouse. “She forgot it that night, for I found it in her rooms months later.” Lady Hero frowned at the small notebook. “It must’ve vexed her—they’d gone to the theater, you know.”