Luke was rich, titled, thirty, and he’d been a navy sailor. It was entirely expected that he would have affairs, but if he would, was it wise to push Penny into his arms?
Apparently, the subject had been too much for Fish. She tossed down her napkin, sauntered over, and kissed him on the mouth.
“Libby will change her clothes for the picnic,” she said. “I have to help her.”
“I refuse to let you go.”
“It’s not up to you, and we’re lucky no servants have knocked. I can’t imagine being discovered in here with you. It might rock the house to its foundations.”
“I don’t care if we’re discovered.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re a man, and it’s your home. You can act how you please. I, however, am a woman who’s little more than a servant. I can’t be caught with you.”
“Let’s spend the day in my bed.”
“You are deranged, my dear Lord Roland, and I have chores.”
“Ignore them. Miss Carstairs can dress herself for once.”
“I don’t want her to have to tend herself. She might figure out that she doesn’t need me.”
“You’re aware of how vain I am. I view myself as being much more important than her.”
Fish scoffed at that. “You know where my room is located. I’m certain you can find it again—whenever you’re in the mood.”
She went over and peeked into the hall. Seeing no one, she winked at him, waved goodbye, then hurried out. He dawdled in the empty room, irked that the fun and excitement had ended with her departure. It had been so long since he’d succumbed to carnal temptation, and he’d forgotten how overwhelming it could be.
With her having left, he was too depressed to tarry. He grabbed his coat and headed downstairs, and he wandered through the mansion. It was quiet, the servants busy with the outside activities. Finally, he slinked to a side door, thinking he might sneak to the stables, saddle a horse, and take a ride, but as he was about to exit the manor, Miss Carstairs was approaching.
He was delighted to bump into her. Since she’d arrived, they hadn’t had an opportunity to chat in a meaningful way, and he was dreadfully curious about her. He didn’t believe the story her uncle had spread about her parents being lowly missionaries, and he agreed with Fish that he wouldn’t be surprised if she had drops of noble blood running in her veins.
He wondered too whether a Pendleton relative might have sired her.
Before he could hail her, a man stepped from behind a carriage that was parked in the grass. He was a fussy-looking fellow, short and rotund, wearing a brown suit, bowler hat, and spectacles.
“Miss Carstairs!” he gushed. “Fancy meeting you here!”
She halted. “I apologize, sir, but I don’t recognize you. Are we acquainted?”
“I’ve watched you on the stage in London. I’m your biggest admirer.”
“How nice.”
She flashed a tight smile and attempted to walk on, but the oaf wouldn’t allow her to pass by.
“Actually, Miss Carstairs, my name is Howard Periwinkle. I write for the London Times.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “How did you track me to the country?”
“It wasn’t hard. I stopped by the theater in town, but your booking there was over. I asked one of the actors where you were.”
“You’ve been trying to talk to me, haven’t you? My cousin has chased you off on several occasions.”
“Yes, but it’s about the anniversary! Surely you’d like to reminisce! You can provide a few remarks for me to quote.”
“My cousin has been very firm with you, Mr. Periwinkle. I don’t wish to discuss my past with you.”
“It’s been twenty years, Miss Carstairs! The whole kingdom would love to hear how you’re faring.”
She chuckled. “I doubt that very much, and you’ll have to excuse me. I’m needed at an event, and I must get ready.”
Periwinkle was undeterred. “Have any new memories come to light? Have you uncovered information about your parents? About your real parents?”
“My parents were missionaries, Mr. Periwinkle. You’re aware of that.”
“What if your Uncle Harry lied about them? He was a cad and a bounder. That’s what I’ve been told. What if he tricked everyone—especially you?”
“My uncle was kind and generous”—Charles had learned from Fish that that wasn’t true—”and I won’t listen to you denigrating him.”
She pushed by him and, when she saw Charles in the doorway, she sagged with relief.
As he stared into her eyes, he suffered the strangest wave of vertigo. He grew incredibly dizzy, as if the ground had shifted under his feet, but as swiftly as the unsteadiness bubbled up, it vanished when Periwinkle called to her again.
“Should I tell you about your two companions from the shipwreck? Caroline and Joanna, right?”
Miss Carstairs blanched and whipped around. “No, I’m not interested.”
Periwinkle was a nuisance who wouldn’t shut up. “My newspaper would like to arrange a reunion for the three of you.”
“I wouldn’t consider it,” she responded. “Not it you paid me a thousand pounds. Now please leave me be—or I’ll have my cousin speak to you. He’ll be quite a bit less polite next time.”
Periwinkle would have continued his harangue, but Charles blustered outside, saying, “Miss Carstairs! There you are! I’ve been searching for you everywhere.”
“I’m so glad you found me,” she said.
“Is this dolt bothering you?”
He cast a scathing glower at Periwinkle, but the cretin had no shame and didn’t slither away.
Miss Carstairs cast a glower that was very similar to Charles’s own. “Yes, as a matter of fact, he is bothering me.”
“I am Lord Roland, Mr. Periwinkle,” Charles said to him. “You’re trespassing, and you’ve been harassing my guest. Depart at once or I’ll have my footmen escort you off the property.”
“Hello, Lord Roland,” the cheeky dunce replied. “How about you and your anniversary?
