“I’ve only been here a few days,” she said. “But—”
A loud, high-pitched laugh pierced the air. When she turned to the source, she saw it was Beatrice, who was seated next to Reed. Jealousy knifed through her as she watched the younger woman place a hand on his arm and look up at him invitingly. The only satisfaction she got was seeing the dowager duchess—who was sitting beside Reed—flash a disapproving look at the young woman.
“My sister can be boisterous,” Simon commented with a wry smile. “It’s part of her charm.”
I’m sure it is. “She’s very, er, friendly.”
“Thank you for sugarcoating it,” he joked. “Maybe it was the years locked away in our lonely little schoolroom, but she enjoys company now. She loves being surrounded by her adoring beaux.” He lowered his voice. “Although I should probably warn her that she’s no match for His Grace.”
She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve only heard about his reputation,” Simon leaned toward her. “You do know why his nickname is Hunter, don’t you? And it’s not because of his grand London home.”
“No, I don’t.” And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Because apparently he has a reputation for being focused when hunting down his prey.”
She followed his gaze back to Beatrice and Reed. He was offering her a pastry, which she took from him, their fingers brushing. She forced herself to turn away. “His prey?”
“Yes, prey. Whatever he wants, he gets. Business deals, valuable assets, artwork …” He turned so his face was inches from hers. “Even women. There was a story about his last mistress, Anaïs Boudreaux, the famous ballerina. She was actually under the Earl of Abernathy’s protection, but Hunter wanted her. And so, he took her.”
“Took her?”
He chuckled. “Not that he spirited her away in the middle of the night. But he offered her a larger house and a bigger allowance, so she left Abernathy that very day.”
Of course Reed would have a mistress. All rich men of this era did. Even the heroes in her most favorite novels had them, though they were dismissed once the hero met his true love. But still, the idea of him keeping a woman somewhere … he probably visited her all the time. Hell, he could have visited her anytime in the past days. Even after their kiss in the hallway.
Her stomach churned at the thought, and even though hot rage was ready to spill out of her, she couldn’t help but look back at Reed and Beatrice who were now deep in conversation, their heads bent together. Well, if she wanted him, she could have him. She would rather be alone forever than be with a ruthless man like Reed.
God, I’m going insane. She shook her head. What the heck was she thinking? This was the past. She was from the future. In her world, Reed didn’t even exist anymore. He was dust and—
“Miss Henney, you look pale,” Simon said, concern in his tone. “Are you all right? Would you like some water?”
“I-I-I’m fine,” she croaked, then pasted a smile on her face. Reed Townsend had no bearing in her life, past or present. She was better off focusing her energies on trying to get home. But for the meantime, she could have some fun too, right? “And please, do call me Elise.”
He returned her smile. “Then you must call me Simon.”
“Simon it is. So, why don’t you tell me what it’s like to come back to England after all these years?”
“This was much more fun than I thought it would be,” Julianna said as she plopped on the grass next to Elise. “Thank God Eleanor put William down for a nap. I thought that boy would never get tired.” She and William had chased each other around the field of wildflowers not far from the picnic area. Elise had joined them earlier, but she grew fatigued herself and declared she would sit down for a few minutes. “I’m sweating like a pig.”
“Don’t let the duchess hear you,” Elise teased. “She’ll probably say something like, Miss Anderson, sweating is so very unladylike!”
Julianna sat up straight and placed her hand on her lap. “And then you’ll never find a suitable husband,” she said, mocking the dowager’s severe tone. “By the way, could you find my maid so she can take this stick out of my ass?”
Elise covered her mouth, but not before a loud guffaw escaped her lips. “Julianna, you’re terrible.”
“That old bat’s driving me crazy.” She stretched her arms over her head, then lay back on the grass.
“And what about Signore Rossi?” she teased. The old Italian had really taken a shine to Julianna.
“He’s old enough to be my dad,” Julianna retorted. “Besides, he’s just like any flirty Italian. Goes after anything in a skirt. But I’m not getting any pervy vibes. I think I remind him of his home, that’s all.”
Her expression changed and Elise knew what she was thinking. “I miss home, too.”
Julianna sighed. “I just want to go lock myself up in my apartment and put on my sweats and binge-watch Netflix for a week.”
“That sounds like fun.” A wave of homesickness hit her. She was already missing her family, her bed, her home, and her job. “I—” She stopped when she felt something wet hit her cheek.
“Oops.” Julianna sat up and brushed a drop from her forehead. “It was pretty clear for a while.” A frown marred her face as she pointed at the ominous clouds with her chin. “Where did those come from?”
“Weird English weather.” Elise got up and helped Julianna to her feet. When she looked back toward the picnic area, she saw that the footmen were starting to pack up the table and food. “Looks like our picnic’s going to be cut short. Where’s Cross?”
“He went back to the house to do more searching while everyone’s gone.” Julianna brushed the blades of grass off her riding habit. “He said he’d come back in an hour.”
“I just hope no one notices
