The Debutante (The Sinclair Society Series, Book Two) Rough Draft

Chapter Ten

"Where have you been?" Miss Dunbar demanded as I entered the dressing room. "The Anderson dinner party is tonight and I must be there on time."

Since she said that every evening, about every event she attended, I didn't regard this command as particularly urgent. We went through the usual discussion about what dress she wanted, followed by the drama of my inevitably bringing the wrong gown, and finally I arranged her hair into a Psyche knot.

She surveyed her appearance in the mirror. "I suppose it will have to do," she said, the corners of her mouth tugging downward. "Have you even been studying the fashion plates, Nelson? I have to stay at the front of fashion, you know."

Admitting that I'd been too caught up in my own affairs or pointing out that there had been no new fashion plates anyway, would have been a mistake. In any event, she wouldn't have listened as she was already leaving the room.

I worked as quickly as possible to put everything away in the room and to set out what I thought Miss Dunbar might need when she returned. Nearly finished, I was interrupted by Sally entering the room. "A note arrived for you just now, Miss Nelson," she said with undisguised interest. "Mr. Ingram's footman delivered it."

Uneasily, because I did not want to know what Mr. Ingram wanted from me, I took the note from her hand. "Thank you, Sally," I said, putting every ounce of haughtiness possible into my voice.

Sally ignored the obvious dismissal. "Will you need to send a response? I had the man wait—"

"No. That will not be necessary. Send him on his way. Thank you for bringing this to me but I'm sure you have duties to see to now."

A scowl marred her face for a moment. Then she spun around and left the room. I stared at the note in my hand for a long minute. Would there be any point in ignoring it and claiming I'd never recieved it? Not if I wanted to remain Julie Nelson for a little while longer.

Taking a deep breath, I broke the seal and unfolded the letter. It was a brief note:

My dear lady's maid,

I am aware that A. Melbourne delivered to you certain letters that had been in the possession of your brother. I require you to bring those letters to me. Tonight. If D has nothing for me, bring the letters anyway.

Also, evidence of D. Dunbar's indiscretions would be appreciated as well but not absolutely necessary.

Ingram

"How on earth does he know about the letters?" I sank down onto the chair, staring at the words. I'd only just gotten them myself and hadn't even read them all. How could he take them from me like this? Who could have told him they existed in the first place? Only Mr. Melbourne could have known about them, and there was no reason for him to have told anyone.

Or had he told Harper who had then mentioned it to someone else?

It would be impossible to know. Instead, my mind raced, trying to think of some way to avoid handing over the only source of information I now had. I couldn't just give up the last words of my brother when I hadn't even read them. And I couldn't forget that the letter intended for Miss Anderson still needed to be given to the lady.

He couldn't know exactly how many papers had been given to me. What if I were to keep the most important ones, like the one for Miss Anderson, and copied the others so that I would have my own copy. Would I have time to do so?
I forced myself to my feet. The dressing room was as good as it was going to be for the evening. Heedless of whether anyone saw me and wondered at my haste, I rushed for my room. I wedged the chair under the doorknob to ensure privacy and then pulled the letters from where I had hidden them.