The Secret Mistress

betrothal party, and so of course all of the countess’s family will be there. Or her in-laws, anyway. There is no one of her own family in town. The countess’s family—her in-law family—were all very attentive to me during that short time when everyone seemed to imagine that the Earl of Heyward and I might make a match of it, though they must all have had windmills in their heads to think such a thing. Anyway, they will all be at Hallings as well as Lord Heyward himself. Rosalie is probably afraid I will be embarrassed, since he proposed marriage to me and I said no. And so she wishes to invite a few other people to come for my sake. It is very good of her. I suggested you, as I would particularly like to have a few days to spend in your company.”

That was all perfectly true. But it was not the whole truth, for it had not taken long for Angeline to realize that the house party would provide the ideal setting for a proper courtship between Miss Goddard and the earl, and that she might be the one to bring it about. It would have the added attraction that his mother and his sisters would also be there to observe how very genteel Miss Goddard was and how very much she and the earl adored each other and how well suited she was to being his countess even if she was merely the daughter of a Cambridge don. Not many ladies had that distinction, after all.

“Please come,” Angeline said, squeezing her arm.

“I have never attended a house party,” Miss Goddard said.

“Oh,” Angeline said, “neither have I. But I have always wanted to. They must be enormous fun. You will come?”

“I will be pleased to,” Miss Goddard said. “I think.”

Miss Goddard bent to smell one of the delicate pink roses they had been examining, though truth to tell Angeline had not been paying them a great deal of attention. She had been too busy noticing that the Earl of Heyward was at the garden party too, and that he had that red-haired lady on his arm again—Angeline never could remember her name. She was very careful not to look directly at them and hoped Miss Goddard would not notice and become depressed at seeing him with someone else.

They strolled down to the riverbank and watched eight of the other guests out on the water in the four small rowing boats, two to a boat. The boats looked very small and unsteady to Angeline. She would not mind too, too much if she were riding in one of them and got tipped in. The water might be cold, but once in and over the first gasp of shock, one would soon become accustomed to it and would actually feel quite warm— until it was time to come out again. However, she did not believe she would wish to fall in today. She was wearing a new dress of fine sprigged muslin, which she loved despite its delicate colors. It would look like a dishrag if it got dunked in the river. Worse, her new hat would look like a dead duck, except that a dead duck would not necessarily be garlanded with multicolored bedraggled flowers and drooping ribbons.

“How lovely it must be out on the water,” Miss Goddard said with a sigh.

But as Angeline drew breath to reply, someone else did so before her.

“It would be all the lovelier for having the delectable Miss Goddard riding upon it,” the voice said, and they both turned in astonishment to find Lord Windrow about to step between them, almost forcing them to drop each other’s arms and take one each of his instead. “And so ride upon it you will. And, oh fair one, you must go out there also but not with Miss Goddard, alas. Those boats were made for two. If three were to try to cram into one, it would sink like a rock and leave nothing but three bubbles to be lamented over by spectators on the bank.”

“Assuming,” Miss Goddard said, “that none of the three could swim.”

“Or one—but that one would have all the bother of deciding which of the other two he would save,” he said. “Nothing but trouble could come of it, whichever one he chose.”

“Assuming,” she said again, “that the swimmer was the man. If it was one of the ladies, she would not hesitate to save the other lady. If she were to save the man, he would feel humiliated and he would be ridiculed for the rest of his life. His life would not be worth living. It would be more merciful to leave him to die tragically beneath his bubble.”

“Alas,” he said, one hand over his heart, “you would abandon me to a watery death, Miss Goddard.”

“I daresay you swim, though,” she said. “Do you?”

“But of course,” he said.

Angeline laughed at the absurdity of the exchange and twirled her parasol. And when one of the boats came in a mere minute or two later, Lord Windrow seized it even though there were two other couples very obviously waiting for it too. He handed Miss Goddard in with exaggerated care and turned to bow over Angeline’s hand.

“It is always said,” he murmured, “that the wise man saves the best until last.”

Angeline laughed again.

“But alas,” he called to her as he hopped into the boat and pushed it away from the jetty, “no one has ever yet called me a wise man.”

The rogue! She gave her parasol another spirited twirl just as the Earl of Heyward appeared upon the scene—alone and looking like thunder. There was not a redhead in sight—except Lord Windrow, whose hair was actually more copper than red.

“Lady Angeline,” he asked, “has Windrow been bothering you again?”

His eyes were upon the boat, which was now well out in the river. Miss Goddard, her back to Angeline, was reclining in her seat and trailing one hand in the water. Lord Windrow was smiling lazily at her and saying something as he pulled on the oars.

“He is not quite the black-hearted villain you take him for,” Angeline said, feeling suddenly breathless. “Even at that inn he was just being silly. It is in his nature to be silly.” Though perhaps that was an unfair word to use. He was silly, but really in a rather witty and charming way. Angeline believed that he rather liked her. Nothing more. His flirtation was far too light to be either serious or menacing. “I am quite safe with him. Besides, Miss Goddard always seems to be present to save me from him.”

She turned her face to smile at him and was jolted to discover how close he was. For three weeks now there had always been at least half a room’s distance between them. She had not looked into his eyes since that day he insisted upon escorting her home from Lady Sanford’s. And despite all the flowers and trees offering their myriad scents for her pleasure, not to mention the river, it was his light and subtle cologne that enticed her senses. His eyes were bluer than the water.

“But who is to save Eunice?” he asked curtly, those blue eyes squinting as they followed the boat along the river.

Angeline was about to make a tart remark about that tiny rowboat on the wide river for all the world to see not being the likely scene of any wicked seduction. But the breath she had drawn remained unused, and her mouth remained half open. Her parasol stopped twirling.

Inspiration had hit her like a flash of lightning.

But of course!

She would persuade Rosalie to invite Lord Windrow to Hallings too. Rosalie would not mind. On the contrary, she would be pleased. She had been growing concerned over the fact that Angeline did not seem to favor any one of her suitors over the others. Lord Windrow was handsome and charming and elegant. He was eligible even if he had never given any indication that he was in search of a bride. He was one of Tresham’s friends, which was perhaps not a great recommendation in itself except that Tresham did not befriend just anyone. No, Rosalie would be delighted.

And when they were all at Hallings, Angeline would maneuver him and Miss Goddard into more situations just like this one and drive poor Lord Heyward insane with fear for her safety and perhaps with jealousy too, for Lord Windrow really was handsome and he seemed to enjoy flirting with Miss Goddard, who could match his wit. Lord Heyward would realize that he could not live without Miss Goddard, and she