London Shadows (#1 Penderry's Bizarre)

Chapter Thirteen

The feather, thought Sophie. It must belong to Lady Henriette's bird. The colour is a perfect match.

When Lord Crowthorne made the formal introductions around their group, Sophie tore her gaze from the bird and bobbed a short curtsey to Lady Henriette. She was a pale and fragile looking young woman with a crown of copper ringlets.

"My lady. Such a beautiful bird."

Lady Henriette smiled. "Thank you. My brother had an aviary installed in the grounds this year. Birds are a little hobby of ours."

"How delightful."

"Are you fond of birds, Miss Penderry?" she asked.

"Why, yes. I was just telling my uncle and Mr Westman the other day that everyone keeps birds these days."

Mr Westman gave her a wry glance. "Do not fret, Miss Penderry. I'll get you a canary for Christmas," he pledged.

"How kind, Mr Westman."

At that point, Primrose stepped into the conversation and Sophie leaned towards Mr Westman. "I'd much rather you get me a new hat."

"I'm sure you would." He glanced at his arm. The detector was clicking and spinning again. "Blasted thing. What can it be?"

"Perhaps we're being surrounded by ghosts," she whispered, only half serious. The notion sent a chill skittering up her spine.

"Well, it's either broken or there's something here, very nearby."

Sophie pulled her arms tight to her body and scanned the surrounding strangers, but she couldn't find anything to cause concern.

Crowthorne spoke up and gave a clipped bow. "If you will excuse us, I fear we have many people to greet this evening. Miss Penderry, perhaps you would do me the honour of dancing later this evening?" he asked, smiling hopefully.

Sophie searched for an excuse to decline, but failed to find one. She accepted with a nod and a forced smile.

Drat.

Lord Crowthorne's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Splendid. I look forward to it."

Lady Henriette took her brother's arm, and they wandered off into the crowd. 

Primrose clapped her hands together. "Refreshments. I'm parched."

"Allow me, Sister," offered Broom.

Sophie tugged Mr Westman's coat sleeve, and they followed Broom across the room to one of the footmen holding a tray of drinks.

"So what do you think of Lord Crowthorne?" asked Broom.

Mr Westman selected two goblets of punch and passed one to Sophie. "He seems like your average sort of rich man."

Sophie stared at the punch in her goblet. "Yes, he's a pleasant young man, but I don't trust him."

"Why ever not?" Mr Westman's smirk didn't quite reach his eyes while he sipped his drink. "He seemed to like you."

"That's what concerns me. Did you see the way he greeted me? I daresay the scoundrel is too friendly."

To her surprise, Mr Westman let out a soft laugh and the unfamiliar sight warmed her mood.

"As I said, your average sort of rich man," he said.

Agitated, Broom looked around and gestured at them to lower their voices. "Sophie, you can't go around calling our host a scoundrel."

Sophie glanced at Mr Westman who was concealing his amusement behind his goblet.