“Miss Pigot,” Mr. Steele calls, “we’re just in the drawing room. We were beginning to worry about you.”
I walk through the double doors. Mr. Steele is standing in evening clothes with a peg in his hand. Mr. Wilson and Mr. Hastie also have on evening attire. I smooth my skirt and hold out my hand to Mr. Steele.
“I hope I’m not too late. I’ve been at Kidderpore all day. I’m so sorry.” I smile so my dimples show.
“The party couldn’t begin before your arrival,” Mr. Steele says, his eyes twinkling. Thank goodness he’s forgiven me for our disagreement over Mr. Robson.
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