Page 30 of The Detective and the Baroness

Corrine couldn’t keep a gasp from escaping. Celia’s husband was thirty-five years older than her? My God.

“Carlton is all right. We get on well enough,” Celia continued. “I look after him, and he keeps a comfortable roof over my head. He isn’t cruel. We are in London to see his doctor. Or so I surmise.”

“Where do you live?” Corrine asked, completely caught up in the conversation.

“As far north as north goes, and still live in England—the hamlet of Marshall Meadows near the border to Scotland. Ever since Carlton’s health started to decline, we rarely travel to London. He hasn’t been to the House of Lords in years.”

“How long are you here in London? You must come for tea.”

“We leave tomorrow morning, but he will delay our departure by a day if I ask.” Celia gave her a pointed look. “Why didn’t you answer my letters all those years ago? Why did you ignore me?”

“I apologize. It was not well done of me. If you come tomorrow for tea, I will explain everything,” Corrine said.

“Very well, I’ll come. I know who else you can invite—another mutual school friend of ours, Selena Seaton. She is also married to an older man, the Duke of Barnsdale. I believe she’s here at this party.”

“Selena married a duke?” Corrine gasped, feigning her response since she already knew Selena would be in attendance. The three of them had been inseparable when they were younger. How tragic they had drifted apart. And much of that was Corrine’s fault. “What do you know about it?”

“As I rarely come to town, not much. But if Selena hasn’t changed, she will fill us in on the details. Come, let us seek her out.”

Celia clasped Corrine’s hand and gently pulled her into the multitude of ladies chatting along the room’s perimeter. Her teacup rattled precariously on the saucer as she bumped into a few women.

“Selena!” Celia called out, attracting attention.

Selena, standing with three other ladies, turned and stared. Corrine nearly gasped at the cold expression Selena turned their way. Then she excused herself from the other ladies and came to stand before them.

“I see you haven’t changed,” Selena sniffed haughtily. “Still loud and rambunctious, Celia.”

Celia tsked. “But it appears you have, Selena. Why so remote? Especially with us? We may not have all seen each other for close to fifteen years, but we were close friends.”

Corrine gently touched Selena’s arm, and Selena flinched in response. “What is the matter?” Corrine whispered. This was not like Selena at all. At school, she had been the leader of the trio, forthright and quick to smile and laugh. She’d often secretly raided the school larder, sneaking them biscuits late at night. Being a year older and taller, she’d often protected Celia and Corrine from some of the older girls’ teasing, cruel ways.

A shuddering sigh escaped Selena’s lips. “Please, leave me alone.”

“We will not,” Celia replied firmly. “Corrine has invited me for tea tomorrow. Why don’t you come as well? Please. I want us all to be friends again. I am sorry we drifted apart. Little did we guess at the unexpected turns our lives might take.”

Corrine removed her hand. “Please do come, Selena.” It was apparent she would not be able to glean much information from anyone in this crowded setting.

“I will come,” Selena said, her tone emotionless. “What is the address?”

“You will come? You’re not just saying that to put us off?” Celia asked.

Selena’s mouth twisted. “I do not lie.”

“Thirty Wimpole Street, Marylebone. I recently married Baron Addington,” Corrine replied.

“Please tell me he is at least younger than Winterwood,” Celia exclaimed.

Corrine smiled. “Yes, a little. Come at two o’clock. I will have sandwiches and tea ready. Selena, do you still like shrimp sandwiches? I remember you saying you would ensure you had them every day as soon as you were married.”

Selena inclined her head. “I do. I will see you tomorrow, then,” she said, turning and returning to the ladies she’d been speaking with.

“Holy crow,” Celia whispered. “What in the hell happened to her?”

Leave it to Celia to express her own thoughts so succinctly. “I do not know. But I believe it’s quite possible she will not show up tomorrow.”

Celia sipped her tea. “I think there’s still a chance she will. Behind the inaccessible mask, I saw a flash of sadness in her eyes. And loneliness. I can relate.”

“Did you see that? How astute. I wonder if we dare ask anyone about her situation. Someone here tonight might know what’s going on in her life.” Then she looked closer at Celia. “But I am sorry you feel the same. In a way, I can relate as well.” Perhaps more than she was letting on.