meanderings if you will—or come in pursuit. I did mention to Lady Palmer when Lord Windrow was not listening that you might follow us over to Norton, and she even seemed pleased. I believe she still has hopes for you and Lady Angeline. Oh, please—it is time to go. Please come. Your ever devoted friend, Eunice.”
Edward had turned cold.
It
And that villain, Windrow …
Edward flexed his hands. His fingers itched to be about the man’s throat. His knuckles ached to make contact with his jawbone.
Lady Palmer was in the drawing room with Edward’s grandmother and mother, the Reverend Martin, and Mr. Briden. It took all of Edward’s willpower to smile and greet everyone and wait for an end to the discussion on the merits of remaining in the country all year as opposed to spending parts of it in London or at one of the spas. It took all of his willpower to speak quietly to Lady Palmer.
“Ma’am,” he said, “I will be riding over to Norton Park, if the absence of yet another of your guests will not seem a great discourtesy. I did not want to crowd Windrow’s carriage, but I did say I might follow after it.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know that, Lord Heyward. And I am happy for you young people to have an excursion you will enjoy. I am even secretly happy that you
She laughed, as did everyone else in the room. His grandmother, Edward noted, waved her lorgnette in his direction and actually winked at him.
“Lady Windrow will be
So Windrow’s mother
But this was not any occasion, or even most.
This concerned Lady Angeline Dudley. Whom Edward loved. How had Alma phrased it? Without whom he could not contemplate living. That was it, or something very like it. And what else had she said?
Right.
Ten minutes later, having saddled a horse himself, he was moving away from the stables at a gallop.
Chapter 19
MISS GODDARD AND Lord Windrow were engaged in a spirited discussion of Mr. Richardson’s
Since Lord Windrow expressed himself with lazy wit and Miss Goddard’s earnest opinions were frequently punctuated with bursts of laughter, Angeline felt she really ought to enjoy just listening. She ought indeed to offer an opinion of her own, even if she had not read the book. After all, she did have something to say on the subject of rakes and the possibility—or impossibility—of their ever being reformed.
But she could not concentrate.
She felt a little sick, if the truth were known. They had been here at the Peacock Inn far longer than they needed to be just to change the horses on Lord Windrow’s carriage and partake of tea in the private parlor. They had all had two cups of tea, and what remained in the pot must be cold. They had eaten all the cakes on the plate.
And still Lord Heyward had not come.
Angeline had given her letter—it had turned into something longer than a note after the second paragraph—to Miss Goddard, who had gone off to hand it to the butler with clear instructions to put it into Lord Heyward’s hands and no other’s at four o’clock. Lord Heyward could not have mistaken the danger she had described. She had felt when she had finished composing it, in fact, that she really ought to write a Gothic novel. She certainly appeared to have the talent for lurid hyperbole. He
But he had not come yet.
She had mentioned the inn in the letter, though she had not known its name at the time. But surely he would not have driven right on past. It was a small inn with a small inn yard. And the gates were open wide. Even if he had not known about the possible stop here, he surely could not have missed seeing the carriage in the yard as he passed.
She just hoped that when he came—
Oh, would he
Nothing could make Angeline happier.
She felt as if
Waltzing under the stars ought to be outlawed. It really ought. And so should rolling down hills. And so should … Well,
“Ah, fair one,” Lord Windrow said, addressing her directly, “you simply must speak up in defense of rakes. In
Despite herself Angeline laughed. And oh, goodness, she had depicted him as just