“He sent me tea!” Wendy didn’t look away from where she was expertly threading a needle even in the evening’s poor light. “Well, what of it?” “He sent me cheap tea!” Now Wendy did look up from her stitching. “Really? But he’s a viscount. Would he even know where to find cheap tea?” “Yes!” She set the tea tin down on the worktable and glared at it. “It’s the exact tea from the exact shop where I usually buy it. He must have read the tin.” “Blimey, but how could he even find it? It can’t possibly ...be on any of his usual routes.” Wendy did the unheard-of act of setting down her sewing to cross to the far side of the worktable where the tin rested. “There’s a note here.” “Yes, I know.” Wendy peered down at it, turning it this way and that. “What does it say? I can’t make out all the words.” In her spare time, Wendy was paying Helaine’s mother to teach her to read. She was absolutely determined to better herself and that included being literate.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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