“Lady Penelope?” Phoebe asked, leaning close to Artemis.
“Yes.” Artemis watched as Penelope tapped Wakefield flirtatiously on the arm. He was smiling down at her. “She’s getting on well with your brother.”
“Is she?” Phoebe asked.
Artemis glanced at Phoebe, wondering. Phoebe had made it plain in the past that she didn’t think Penelope the best choice for her brother, but of course she had no say in the matter. Was Phoebe worried that she’d have to move out of her brother’s house if Penelope married Wakefield?
“Here’s Miss Picklewood,” Artemis told her companion as they approached two ladies. “She’s in conversation with Mrs. Jellett.”
“Oh, Phoebe, dear,” Miss Picklewood called. “I was just telling Mrs. Jellett that you’re the one who manages the garden.”
Phoebe smiled. “I only maintain the garden. Mother was the original designer.”
“Then she had quite an artistic hand,” Mrs. Jellett said promptly. “I do envy you the space you have to work with. My Mr. Jellett left me only a small garden at our country house. Now can you tell me what this elegant flower is? I don’t remember ever seeing the like.”
Artemis watched as Phoebe bent and felt the flower before giving a quite academic lecture about the plant, its origin, and how it had come to be growing here at Pelham. Artemis was a bit bemused. She hadn’t known her friend was so interested in gardening.
A wet nose thrust itself into her hand and at the same time Miss Picklewood chuckled. “Percy seems quite taken with you. Usually he never leaves Maximus’s side.”
Artemis glanced down at the hunting spaniel’s adoring brown eyes and ruffled his soft ears. She was surprised to see that Bon Bon was by the bigger dog’s side, pink tongue hanging out as he panted happily. She looked up. The duke was escorting Penelope on the far side of the garden. “Where’s Mignon?”
Miss Picklewood pointed to where the little spaniel was nosing under a boxwood. “She doesn’t much like the larger dogs, unlike Bon Bon.”
“Mmm.” Artemis crouched to give the little white dog a pat as well. “I haven’t seen him so active in years.”
“I must show Lady Noakes,” Mrs. Jellett was saying in a rather-too-loud voice. “She’s such a keen gardener, though she doesn’t often have the funds to indulge.” She tucked her chin into her neck and whispered, “Noakes gambles, you know.”
Miss Picklewood shook her head. “Gambling is such an evil.” She sent Mrs. Jellett a significant look. “Have you heard the story about Lord Pepperman?”
“No!”
Phoebe gave a small groan. “If you’ll excuse us, Cousin Bathilda, Mrs. Jellett, Artemis expressed a special interest in the espaliered apricot trees.”
Artemis dutifully took her friend’s arm and waited until they’d walked out of earshot before leaning close. “Espaliered apricots?”
Phoebe stuck her nose in the air. “Something everyone should take an interest in. Besides, I’m not sure I could take the Pepperman story again.”
A shrill whistle rent the air. Percy, who had been trotting along beside them, lifted his head alertly before racing to Wakefield’s side. Bon Bon scrambled on short little legs to keep up with his new friend.
Artemis watched the dogs go and found herself staring at the duke. He was looking in her direction, and even at this distance he was commanding, almost as if he were demanding something of her.
She felt light-headed.
Then Penelope tapped him on the arm and he turned to the other woman to smile and make some comment.
Artemis shivered despite the bright sunshine.
Phoebe bumped at her shoulder. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Have you?” Artemis said distractedly. Wakefield and Penelope had met up with Lord and Lady Oddershaw, and even at this distance she recognized the slight stiffening of the duke’s shoulders. He seemed displeased by something Lord Oddershaw was saying.
“Wouldn’t it be lovely if all the ladies from the Ladies’ Syndicate for the Benefit of the Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children went together to see the theater at Harte’s Folly?”
Artemis blinked and looked down at Phoebe. “That does sound lovely—I’m sure Penelope would like to attend. She likes any sort of public event, even if she doesn’t always follow the play.”
Phoebe smiled up at her. “And you, too, of course. You’re rather an honorary member, don’t you think? Since you attend the meetings with Penelope?”
“I suppose.” Artemis’s lips twisted wryly. She certainly would never be a real member since the Ladies’ Syndicate existed to help the Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children in St. Giles. Money was a rather large prerequisite for becoming a member.
“Oh, do say you’ll come,” Phoebe said, hugging Artemis’s arm close. “They’re doing Twelfth Night with Robin Goodfellow playing Viola. She’s always so funny in her breeches roles. I quite love her low voice and the droll way she speaks her lines.”
Oh, Artemis thought with a pang. Phoebe probably couldn’t actually see the actors on the stage when she attended the theater. It would all be about the speeches of the actors for her.
“Of course I’ll come,” she said warmly to the younger woman.
“That’s settled, then,” Phoebe said with a little skip. “I’ll ask the other ladies if they can attend, too.”
Artemis felt the corner of her mouth curl at Phoebe’s infectious joy. They were nearing the end of the garden and a stone seat set against the wall, and Artemis now saw that a solitary figure sat there, gazing into the distance as if deep in thought.
“You know,” she said impulsively, “I’ve heard that Miss Royale is an heiress in her own right.”
Phoebe’s brows knit slightly. “Yes?”
Artemis squeezed her arm significantly. “There’s always room for one more member of the Ladies’ Syndicate.”
“Oh!” Phoebe said.
Artemis patted her arm and raised her voice just a bit. “And here’s Miss Royale.”
That lady swung her head around as if she hadn’t noticed their approach. “Good afternoon.” Her voice was low for a woman, her expression cautious.
Phoebe smiled innocently. “Are you enjoying the gardens, Miss Royale?”
“Why, yes, my lady,” Miss Royale replied. “Er… will you both join me?”