“Yes, Little Henrietta. My wife absconded with her.”
Casually, Libby asked, “What happened to them?”
“My wife abandoned me for a handsome gambler.”
“Did you know him and see it coming? Or was it a complete surprise?”
“I knew him, but he wasn’t a friend. I certainly never suspected their affair or I’d have tried to stop it. I’m not sure I could have. My wife was quite insane.”
“Insane! My goodness.”
“She had many problems, mostly with how her emotions would swing out of control.”
“You’re being very frank with me,” Libby said, “and I can’t decide if I should be flattered or disturbed.”
“I was in the middle of it when it occurred, but now, it’s so far in the past it seems as if some other clueless idiot wreaked that havoc.”
“Where did the shameful couple go after they fled England?”
“They sailed to Italy.”
“You must have hunted for them.”
“Not for them so much. I didn’t care about them, but I searched for Henrietta. She would have been imperiled by her mother, and I hoped to rescue her.”
“You never found her?”
“Her mother’s paramour died in an accident in Rome, and after that, their trail went cold. My lawyers finally convinced me that they had to be dead too. My wife was very flamboyant, and she could never have hidden herself away, but there was never a trace of her.”
“Did you love Little Henrietta?”
“Will you think I’m horrid if I confess to being an awful parent? When she was born, I was an irresponsible dandy who wasn’t ready to be a father. I wasn’t concerned about her in the slightest.”
“Yet you searched for her . . .” Libby wistfully said. “You weren’t successful, but you tried.”
The interval grew awkward, and he downed his liquor and moved away from her. His cheeks were flushed, indicating he was embarrassed to have been so candid.
“Has the liquor fortified you, Miss Carstairs?” He gestured to the garden. “Will you go outside?”
“Yes, I’m feeling much better, but I have to head upstairs to change my clothes. I’m always on stage, even during a picnic.”
“You constantly look fabulous.”
“I appreciate you noticing, but it’s none of my doing. My companion, Miss Fishburn, is in charge of my wardrobe.”
“I’m acquainted with Fish from when I was frolicking in town decades ago. She and I are old friends, and it’s nice to have her at Roland. We’ve been able to reminisce.”
“I’m so glad,” Libby said, not meaning it.
His use of Fish’s nickname was distressing, and it was obvious Libby needed to have a chat with Fish. Fish was the one who urged caution in romantic affairs. Libby didn’t suppose Fish would be reckless, but Libby had to counsel restraint.
She downed her drink too and handed him her glass. As he placed them on the tray, she said, “Thank you for taking a few minutes to calm me.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“Would you call me Libby?”
“I’d like that.”
As with Penny, he didn’t suggest she call him Charles. Not that Libby would have. She couldn’t imagine them being on such familiar terms, so she shook off her disappointment.
She wanted to stay in the small room with him forever, but she’d been too blunt in her interrogation, and he was anxious to end their private discussion. Once he’d declared it to be over, she could hardly argue that they should continue.
“Will you go out to the party?” she asked as he opened the door and they walked down the hall to the front foyer.
“I guess I have to.”
She laughed. “Don’t be so glum. In another week or so, we’ll all have left.”
“Yes, you will have, and then, I’ll probably mope and complain that the house is too quiet.”
“If you see Fish, tell her I require her assistance up in my bedchamber.”
“I will, and you’ve given me the perfect excuse to track her down.”
He appeared so delighted by the prospect that Libby was a tad alarmed.
She wasn’t sure if there was an appropriate comment to utter. After all, she was in no position to scold him for being too friendly with Fish, but she lingered a moment, then a moment more, until the delay became uncomfortable. She spun away and started up the stairs. She’d reached the landing when he called to her.
“Libby?”
She halted and stared down. “Yes?”
“What do you know about your parents?”
“Mostly just what my Uncle Harry shared with me. He was the relative who claimed me after I was returned to England. I lived with him and he raised me.”
“Fish told me they were missionaries.”
Libby shrugged. “It’s what Harry always said.”
“Do you think he was being truthful? Do you think they were missionaries?”
For the briefest instant, there was an eerie stillness in the air, as if every being in the universe was waiting to discover what they’d say next.
Libby broke the silence. “That’s a very strange question. Why would you ask it?”
“You’re much too remarkable to come from ordinary stock. If you announced that your father was a king, I would absolutely believe it.”
She forced a smile, the one that brought audiences to their feet so they cheered and applauded. “I’ve heard statements like that all my life, Lord Roland. Perhaps I should pretend my father really was a king.”
She kept on, and she didn’t glance down, but she sensed him watching her. His curiosity was intense, and she couldn’t bear to observe it. If she did, who could predict what might happen?
Libby galloped down the rural lane, bent over her horse’s neck, the animal cantering at its fastest speed. Her hat had flown off and her hair had fallen from its pins so the blond locks were wildly flowing behind her. Anyone who observed her would likely wonder if a madwoman hadn’t just passed by.
She’d parted with Lord Roland in his foyer and had intended to socialize with Penny and her guests, but she’d been too disconcerted. After her confrontation with Mr. Periwinkle, then her conversation with Lord Roland, she’d felt as if the hounds of Hell were chasing her. A reckless act
