Page 50 of A Story of Love

“I am angry.”

“Because Honey said it wasn’t her and you still have no idea who sent this?”

“Yes.”

“And you went back to Madam Thérèse again?”

“Yes.” Lori flung up her hands. “The woman refused to budge an inch. Being in the dark one time was amusing, but this is…”

“Is what?” Freddie asked, her eyes turning back to the gown as if they were on leading-strings.

“It’s annoying. And frustrating. And embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”

“I am a newspaperwoman, Freddie. I ferret out the truth for a living and yet I can’t even find out who is sending me gowns. I look like a fool.”

Freddie gave Lori one of her rare smiles. “I can see how that might be awkward for you. But, at the same time, you can hardly expect Madam Thérèse to betray the confidence of one of her clients. Especially one who spends so much money.” She cocked her head. “Weren’t you the one who told me that the people who contribute information to your stories deserve to have their identities protected, if that is what they want?”

“Please stop being so logical!”

Freddie laughed.

“But I haven’t shown you the worst of it yet.” Lori lifted the gown from the box, exposing a beautiful marquetry box.

Freddie reached for the box but then stopped, her eyes darting to Lori.

“Go head and open it,” Lori said.

Freddie flipped up the lid and caught her lower lip with her teeth.

She had already stared at the necklace, bracelet, and earrings for a full half hour before her friend had come home and discovered Lori standing in her room like a slack-jawed yokel.

“Are those what I think they are?” Lori asked.

“Emeralds?” Freddie said, and then picked up an earring and held it to the light. “I’m no expert on gemstones, but they are lovely, whatever they are.”

Lori tossed the gown over the jewels and pressed the heels of her hands against her pounding temples. “Good Lord, Fred! What in the world am I going to do?”

“Wear it. All of it—the dress and the jewels,” Freddie said, without so much as a second’s hesitation.

“But—”

“You don’t know who sent it and that person has obviously gone to a great deal of effort to make sure of that. You can hardly be accused of accepting gifts from someone when you don’t know who that someone is. You have three options: give it away, sell it, or keep it. That necklace alone must cost hundreds of pounds, Lori. You cannot give it away. You could sell it, but you would still be profiting from an anonymous gift, so why not wear it? At least wear it once before selling it,” she amended. “And just think, Lori: selling it all would give you enough of a nest egg to live on for a long, long time. Having pride is all well and good, but we are women of uncertain means, Lori. And right there”—she jabbed a finger at the box— “is one way to remove that uncertainty. You would be a fool to throw away such a windfall. And I know you are not a fool.”

Lori watched in open-mouthed wonder as her friend—often referred to as the Ice Countess behind her back— paced back and forth, her cheeks flushed and her breathing rapid. “I beg your pardon for becoming overly emotional, Lori, but I am angry,” she said, startling Lori with her raised voice. “These gifts are probably from a man but we, as women, are told all our lives that we cannot accept gifts from men who are not our husbands or fathers. And why is that? Because it offends our honor. But does it not offend our honor to need a man’s protection and money to live respectably?” She made a very rude, un-Freddie noise and shook her head. “Why should men be the only ones to make all the rules? Or break them,” she added under her breath.

Lori had never seen such fire in the other woman’s fawn-gray eyes. For years Lori and the other teachers who’d worked at the Stefani Academy had believed Freddie was too calm and controlled. It couldn’t be good for a person to suppress every emotion. And here Freddie was letting her emotions bubble over for the first time that Lori had seen and on the subject of anonymous gifts.

Interesting.

Something told her that if she tried to pry—however gently—Freddie would close up as tightly as a clam.

Instead, she considered her friend’s argument.

If Freddie, who was considered an arbiter of taste, fashion, and manners, not only by Lori and the rest of their friends, but also most of the ton, believed that she should keep and wear the gifts then she would.

“Very well. I shall wear the gown and the jewels.”