“I’m certain there’s someone more suitable for this position than I,” Catriona said.
Lucie’s gaze narrowed slightly. “You are one of our best. Hattie, Annabelle, and I are fully occupied with conquering the House of Commons for the Property Act, as are the other chapters. Hattie also has her hands full with her Friendly Society.”
“Which Friendly Society?”
Hattie brushed crumbs off her skirt. “A new one,” she said. “I’m creating it as we speak—it’s for the benefit of northern factory women who are in the family way.”
“That is news.”
“We are trying to establish a temporary payment for the months before and after birth,” Hattie explained, “so that pregnant women may stay home and rest without losing pay. Aoife Byrne and Miss Patterson are helping me with the details.”
“That’s a fine and worthy cause,” Catriona said, gloom in her voice. Her desire to contemplate vague academic ideas undisturbed sounded more self-indulgent by the minute.
“Blackstone and I are hosting a dinner on Friday to advertise the initiative,” Hattie said. “I never sent you an invitation since you were in Applecross, but now you’re here—join us!”
“Gladly,” she said tightly. “Are there any charitable causes where I could lend a hand, too?”
Hattie was beaming. “Yes, I’m so relieved you ask.”
“I—”
“The Lady Margaret Hall fire drill exercise is tomorrow morning, and I can’t join in,” Hattie pressed on. “I’m—I’m indisposed, and they are missing members because of the term break.”
“Why is there a drill during term break?”
“To keep the brigade well-prepared? I felt rotten, having to cancel,” Hattie said. “If only I could offer them a replacement. Lucie is already standing in for Lady Henley.”
Catriona shifted around on the upholstery as her legs became restless. “What time?”
“Eight o’clock.”
At least it wouldn’t split her day down the middle and render it useless.
“I shall replace you,” she ground out. “This one time.”
After their meeting ended and they had said their goodbyes, Catriona rushed down the grand staircase to shake off some of the tension in her limbs. She would have to research the Writ for Restitution of Conjugal Rights. In addition to dealing with Elias Khoury, and supporting the women’s fire brigade, and attending a London dinner on Friday.
Her resolution to stay away from all distractions was going so well.
She was about to leave the hotel foyer when quick footsteps sounded behind her on the polished floor.
“Catriona.”
Hattie had dashed after her and her face was pink from the effort. She pulled Catriona aside, out of earshot from the bellboys.
“There’s something you ought to know—” She paused and worried her bottom lip with her pearly teeth.
“You have found a new spiritualist and want me to attend a séance with you, don’t you?” Catriona said. “The answer is no.”
“Goodness, no,” said Hattie, and scrunched up her face. “I don’t dabble in that . . . anymore.” She ducked her head. “Lord Peregrin is in residence at St. John’s. He’s back for the summer, doing some work in the archives. I thought you might wish to be prepared. In case you cross paths.”
Catriona’s belly hollowed at the sound of his name. A name that had been entwined with nervous nausea and daydreaming for too long to not have an effect.
“It’s fine,” she assured Hattie. “I knew he’d be here.” It was one of the reasons she had left in the first place. There was no chance of bumping into men who made her feel awkward in Applecross. Or so she had thought.
Hattie gave her hand a quick squeeze. “That’s good, then.”
“Say, is there anyone who isn’t aware of my silly crush on him?”
“Yes,” said Hattie, “Lord Peregrin.”
If only. “Do you remember when he called me a ‘good chap’ to my face?”
“Oh well, that was ghastly.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t give me a few hearty slaps on my back, from lad to lad. He knew. He was kind enough to make the situation clear at once.”
“Not at once, though,” Hattie remarked. “Only after you had helped him hide from his brother for months.”
“. . . I suppose.”
“Lord Peregrin is a boy,” Hattie said earnestly. “A charming, clever boy, but boys have nothing to recommend them over proper men.”
Catriona grimaced. Hattie was a few years younger than her, Peregrin’s age to be exact, but since her marriage to Mr. Blackstone, she took on an almost maternal air sometimes, like a plush ruddy mother hen eager to spread protective wings. It was odd to be at the receiving end of such care when one was older and almost certainly more twisted.
“Let’s meet at the St. John’s porter’s lodge tomorrow morning,” Hattie suggested. “We could go to the fire drill together.”
“I thought you can’t attend the drill.”
“I can’t handle the equipment,” Hattie said with a shifty sideways glance. “I can, however, bring provisions and good cheer.”
“Very well. Are you certain you haven’t changed anything about your appearance?”
“A new hat,” Hattie replied, which solved nothing, because Hattie always had a new hat. Today’s headwear was amethyst velvet that matched her dress, decorated with silk flowers and imitations of various foliage.