FortyJohn was short-tempered and ankle-deep in sawdust when a carriage pulled up outside the Gold House site. Mrs Adeline Baker slid out and began to pick her way on cautious tiptoes across the bumpy ground. His heart slumped to his mud-caked boots. She wore a vibrant blue ankle length walking dress in the new short style over buttoned up boots with broad square toes. On her head she had a black velvet bonnet — Pania would know what the style was, he was sure — trimmed with feathers and fastened under her chin.
“Sir John. Delighted, I’m sure.” She had a faint hint of a Southern accent that hadn’t been so evident before. She fluttered her eyelashes and twirled her gauzy white parasol. He guessed the accent was all part of a come-hither scene she was staging, with herself cast in the lead r
