Callander Square Read Online Free PDF Page B

already done with relative ease all the social climbing she desired, at least for the moment. Charlotte’s disgusting mystery might prove to be just the diversion she required, and it had the additional advantage of being genuinely helpful to someone, if the wretched girl were ever found!
    And also, she was very fond of her sister. Of course Charlotte was socially impossible! It would never do to introduce her to the afternoons, the dinners, and the balls she herself attended; although on some of the more pompous occasions she had frequently found it passing through her mind to wonder what Charlotte might have said, had she been there. This affair would also give her an opportunity for them to do something together, which in itself would be pleasant.
    When George returned, in time to change for dinner, she abandoned her dignity and scampered up the stairs after him. He turned at the top in surprise.
    “What’s the matter?”
    “I want to meet Christina Balantyne,” she said immediately.
    “Tonight?” He was incredulous, a smile on his elegant mouth. “She’s not all that amusing, I assure you!”
    “I don’t want to be amused. I want to be invited to her house, or at least to be able to call without obviously seeking her acquaintance.”
    “Whatever for?” His eyebrows went up over his dark eyes. “Is it Augusta you want to meet? Very grand, Augusta. Her father was a duke, and she’s lived up to it all her life; not that it is any effort, I think.”
    It was not the reason, but it seemed an excellent explanation to adopt.
    “Yes, I would. Please, George?” she smiled at him frankly.
    “You’ll be disappointed. You won’t like her,” he looked down with a faint frown.
    “I don’t care about liking her, I just want to be able to call!”
    “Why?”
    “George, I don’t press you about your friends at White’s, or Boodle’s, or wherever it is; let me entertain myself by calling upon whom I please.” She smiled at him with a mixture of charm, because she genuinely liked him, and honesty, because the pretense between them was wholly one of manners, and there was no real deception.
    He patted her on the cheek and kissed her.
    “It should be easy enough to look up Brandy Balantyne, and he’s an amiable fellow. In fact he’s the best of his family, by a long way. You’ll be disappointed in the others, I warn you!”
    “Maybe,” she smiled seraphically, utterly satisfied. “But I wish to discover for myself.”
    It was three days before Emily’s plans bore fruit and she was able to dress carefully in muted browns with gold trimmings and fur muff against the cold, and set out to call upon Christina Balantyne. Her attire seemed to her precisely the right mixture of dignity and assurance, coupled with the quality of friendliness that a lady of title could afford to extend toward someone who was very nearly of her own social rank, but not quite. She had also taken the trouble to ascertain that Christina would be at home this afternoon: and that had required some delicate detective work through her lady’s maid, who just happened to have scraped an acquaintance with the lady’s maid of a certain Susanna Barclay, who was in the habit of calling at Callander Square herself. Indeed, there lay more in common between Emily and Mr. Pitt than Pitt would have imagined.
    Emily duly bade her carriage with its footmen wait, and presented herself at the door of the Balantynes’ house at quarter to four. It was opened by the parlormaid, as was the custom in the afternoon. Emily smiled charmingly, took her card from its ivory case, and held it out in an elegantly gloved little hand. She was proud of her hands.
    The parlormaid took it, read it without appearing to, and returned the smile.
    “If your ladyship would be pleased to come in, Lady Augusta and Miss Christina are receiving in the withdrawing room.” It was an unusually voluble greeting, and could only be accounted for by the fact that Emily was a