At 9:55, she went to check the progress in Papa’s rooms, where a servant was taking the last of Holliswell’s toiletries from the dressing table.
It was harder than she’d expected to see Papa’s rooms again. “Are any of my father’s things still here?”
The servant’s startled gaze hopped from her head to her cutlass to her feet. “Nothing, your...er, your ladyship. His lordship’s clothes were packed away into the attic. Everything here belongs to Mr. Holliswell.”
Only thanks to Dunscore’s coin, no doubt, which meant she should bloody well pack all of his things away in the attic and let him find the means to replace it all. Which she absolutely would if it wouldn’t create more trouble than it was worth. She stalked through the room and opened the wardrobe, the drawers, the chest at the foot of the bed that Papa had always kept locked. It wasn’t locked now, but there was nothing inside.
Katherine left the room, letting the boots that had served her so well on board the Possession thump soundly on the polished wood floors. The reality that Papa was gone dragged at her like the fiercest undertow and had her clawing for breath. But there wasn’t time to compose herself, because Miss Holliswell’s companion waited for her in the hallway.
“Your ladyship.” It was a statement, not a question.
Katherine somehow found the means to speak. “Miss Bunsby.”
“I would like to request a moment of your time.” She was direct—too direct, with shrewd, cornflower eyes in a face pretty enough to exclude her from most positions as a paid companion. Few young ladies would welcome such competition. Even her horrid puce gown didn’t hide her beauty.
“A moment is all I have, Miss Bunsby, and I’ll save you the trouble of explaining yourself. Your services will no longer be needed. I do not know whether the Holliswells will wish to keep you on, given their change of circumstances, but I will pay you whatever wages you’re due and offer you my carriage to go to the Holliswells’ new accommodations if you wish.” She’d checked first thing this morning to make sure she had a carriage and horses. In fact, there were two—the coach with Dunscore’s insignia, and a smaller, newer carriage Holliswell had apparently purchased for his own use on Dunscore’s credit.
“I do not wish,” Miss Bunsby said flatly.
Katherine narrowed her eyes. “Then you may take your wages and be on your way. Whatever gowns the Holliswells gave you, you may keep.” Judging from the shade of this one, nobody else would want them anyhow. “I expect you out within the hour.”
“I wish to speak with you about employment.”
“I do not need a companion.”
“But you need an upstairs maid. You let Polly go this morning.”
“And you think impudence will convince me you are suited to the job?” A ruckus from the entrance hall drifted up the staircase and down the hallway, heralding Phil’s arrival. “You may tell Mr. Holliswell when you see him that he will not succeed in planting spies in my household. You are dismissed.”
Miss Bunsby’s hands fisted at her sides. “I am not Mr. Holliswell’s spy. I simply—”
“Never fear, Katherine,” Phil called up the staircase cheerfully, “you shall be properly outfitted for London in no time.” A parade of footmen hurried up the stairs with more boxes and bolts of fabric than a ship unlivering on the docks. Katherine left Miss Bunsby standing there and went to meet Phil, who was resplendent in a sunset-colored brocade gown that revealed an intricately embroidered gold petticoat and stomacher. At her side, a dark-haired woman in a stunning gown of pale blue ruched silk surveyed the activity from behind the cooling breeze of a painted fan.
Together, the two of them presented a portrait of everything Katherine couldn’t imagine being.
It was an easy guess who the visitor was. Katherine took her time walking down the stairs, knowing it would give full effect to the outfit Dodd disapproved of so heartily.
“All of London is abuzz with news of your ousting the Holliswells,” Phil declared as Katherine came down. “Although honestly, Katherine, a bit of discretion might have been more the thing.”
“If he wanted discretion, he should not have trespassed in my house.” At that, Phil’s companion’s lips twitched.
Finally reaching the base of the stairs, Katherine looked her straight in the eye. “You must be Captain Warre’s sister.” The woman’s deep green eyes had confirmed it already.
“You magnificent woman,” she declared, taking Katherine’s hands in her own. She air-kissed Katherine’s cheeks. “I owe you my very happiness for rescuing my brother. I do hope you’ll forgive the intrusion. I insisted Philomena allow me to accompany her no matter how improper it may be. I want to help you any way I can.”
A desperate, awful hope leaped in her breast, and she struggled not to let it show. “You are too kind, Lady Ramsey.” Perhaps she would not strangle Phil, after all.
Captain Warre’s sister made a face and waved away the formality. “Don’t be ridiculous. You will call me Honoria or face the consequences.” She glanced at Katherine’s hip with a mischievous smile. “Although I suspect your ability to mete out consequences far surpasses mine. I confess to being completely in awe—I am ready at this moment to swear an oath of loyalty, don an eye patch and sail away with you to pillage and plunder in some exotic land.”
Good God. “Your brother might have something to say about that.”
“James? La, he has something to say about everything! But I adore him, and as far as I’m concerned he can do no wrong.”
The new hope dimmed.
“We’ve brought Madame Bouchard,” Phil announced. “She’s the best there is. And it’s a good thing, too, because Lady Carroll’s always-magnificent garden party is tomorrow night.”
“You’ve arrived just in time,” Honoria said.
“All the best people attend, and it will be the perfect place for you to make your grand debut.”
Honoria nodded. “I’ve already spoken to Lady Carroll. You and my brother should receive your invitations this morning.”
“But you’ll need the most fabulous gown ever created,” Phil said decisively, “and you’ll need it by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
Simultaneously, the pair assessed Katherine from head to toe. “It’s almost a shame to replace that outfit with something ordinary,” Honoria sighed.
At that moment, a tiny woman who could only be Madame Bouchard swept through the door behind a final wave of textiles. She took one look at Katherine and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Abominable!” she muttered. “Simplement incroyable!”
An unwise retort leaped to her tongue, but she bit it back. It was impossible to be an effective captain without a skilled boatswain, and it would be impossible to earn London’s favor without magnificent gowns.
“I think you look positively exotic,” Honoria confessed, and smiled wickedly. “James must have been undone with disapproval when he met you.”
Phil’s lips twitched. “Oh, is that what it was. I rather thought—”
“I have the impression your brother is undone with disapproval over any number of things,” Katherine said crossly, even as she watched in the glass while Madame Bouchard sorted through a pile of gowns that were already under construction. The last time she’d stood for a London dressmaker, she’d been fifteen and more than a little frightened about her debut. That same worry snaked in now, and nearly for the same reasons.
Honoria laughed. “La, you’ve pinned it precisely! Poor James.”
“Oh,” Phil said, “I don’t