Chapter Thirteen
When we got downstairs to the formal drawing room, Fungy and Mr. Haston were already there.
“Oh, my!” I said, absolutely unable to contain my admiration. “Now this is what I miss the most about London.”
Mr. Haston gave me a confused smile. “What is that, Miss Grace?”
“You and your splendor, of course!” I said with a laugh. “Fungy, you and Mr. Haston are absolutely...oh...” I snapped open my fan and started waving it in front of my face to ensure I didn’t turn too pink from the heat I could feel rushing to my face.
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment,” my brother-in-law said. He was in a bottle-green double-breasted coat with matching trousers. His neckcloth was tied into what I believe was called a waterfall, from the lovely flow of it down from the high, starched
