“She’s been expecting us?” Mother Mary Paul gave a single nod. “She had a letter from His Grace, the Duke of Wellington.” Her head tilted to the side as she studied Gage’s furrowed expression. “This displeases you in some way?” Gage swiftly masked his thoughts about the duke and his father’s presumptions. “No. I’m merely surprised by how swift the post runs.” Apparently, that letter of introduction they sent us would not be needed. The nun nodded in easy acceptance, but I could see her eyes evaluating, perceiving more than perhaps he wished. “It only arrived today.” Her gaze shifted to meet mine, and I could tell she was aware I had observed her assessment. Her face softened in a smile for the first time. “But the reverend mother can tell you what you wish to know. If you will please follow me, I shall take you to her.” She led us through the door into the entry hall with polished mahogany floors and trim, white walls, and rather minimal decoration.
