When morning had dawned at Le Meurice, Charley had already been up and dressed (in one of the plain outfits she had purchased at Printemps), fast broken, telegrams (forwarded on Charley’s instructions from the Ritz) and newspapers read, the London papers dog-eared to the society notices page.
“Lady Georgiana’s engagement is official,” Charley said.
“What are you doing up so early?” Tilly fretted frantically. “You’re not—Where are you going?”
“I have to run out to the American Express office,” Charley said. “I’m afraid I have to fly, if I don’t get there and back to the Gare de l’Est in time, I shall miss my train. I’m sorry I’m going to miss your outing today, but you all enjoy yourselves!”
“But Charley—”
We gaped after the empty doorway.
Matthias, bearing bunches of fragrant roses f
