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of feet on a nearby tree. But that was nothing compared to the horror he felt when he saw the woman who was right then breaking speed records as she ran pell-mell at them.
    “She’s not my mistress!” he snapped. “She’s much, much worse.”
    “Oh?” came Miss Shoemaker’s amused response.
    “Yes. She’s my brother.”
    Miss Shoemaker snorted. “How can a woman be your brother?”
    “Same way Tommy’s father is your shoemaker.” He sighed because she clearly didn’t understand. And because there was no way to avoid Georgette. “You’ll see,” he said darkly. “My brother, his wife—they both have the same brain. And it’s not that fond of me.”

Chapter 3

     
    Penny knew enough to keep her mouth shut when the stern-looking German woman finally stopped, huffing and puffing, right in front of them. She was fast, despite her bulk, which meant that Mr. Morrison had no time to run, though his gaze darted left and right, obviously searching for an escape. Meanwhile, Penny had time to look at the woman more clearly.
    Under normal circumstances, Penny would have called her cheery. The woman looked exactly like the mother in a set of nesting dolls she’d once played with. She was rosy cheeked and dressed in a bright gown of yellow with light blue accents. But the gimlet eye she trained on Mr. Morrison was just short of evil. Fortunately, she hadn’t the breath to speak, which allowed Mr. Morrison to try an escape.
    “Ah, Georgette!” he cried, in clearly false cheer. “Lovely to see you, having fun shopping? Well, I can see that you’ve got other things to do, so I shall leave you to them. Good day!”
    He made to move away, but the woman grabbed hold of his arm and clutched tight enough to make Mr. Morrison wince.
    “Hold still, Samuel,” she snapped. “Your brother needs a word.”
    “Then I shall contact him in due time—”
    “Just a moment! I shall tell you it directly.”
    “But you never stop at just one word,” he drawled as he eyed the midday sky. “And it’ll be dusk before you’re done.”
    Penny raised her eyebrows at that, but Georgette looked positively thunderous.
    “We wouldn’t use so many words if you would but listen to us.”
    Mr. Morrison heaved a mighty sigh. “You make a common mistake, Georgette. Listening is not the same thing as obeying. I do listen. I can hardly help but listen.”
    “And then you forget and go about your merry way without a thought in your head.”
    “Never that, Georgette. Never, ever without a thought in my head.” He sounded downright morose at that. Meanwhile, Penny realized that she ought not to be standing there listening to what was obviously a family squabble. So with a slight nod, she started to step away.
    “I shall leave you to your family,” she began, but Mr. Morrison was quick to grab her elbow.
    “No, no. We have business, you and I. Urgent business, that cannot wait.”
    “Urgent!” the woman scoffed. “As if you have anything urgent in your life! Your brother was just commenting the other day about the company you keep! Tarts and artists.” She sniffed and curled her lip.
    Up until that moment, Penny was inclined to be neutral toward the woman. After all, she understood how men could be exasperating, and so she was prepared to remain silent. But at those words, she stiffened her spine. This woman had no cause to be bringing her into her family spat. But long before she could say anything, Mr. Morrison stepped forward, his face dark and cold as Penny hadn’t seen before. Not even when he was facing the thugs who had stolen her home.
    “You forget yourself, Georgette,” he snapped. “May I present Miss Shoemaker and her brother, Thomas.”
    “Does she write poetry?” the woman sneered.
    “She’s my client, Georgette. Miss Shoemaker, my brother’s shrew of a wife, Baronness Georgette Morrison.”
    Penny smiled politely and nodded. She managed to force herself to say, “Baronness,” in greeting, but that was all.