Page 16 of A Secret Correspondence
Madame Perreau looked up sharply, her pale blue eyes catching his in surprise before they dropped to their task again.
“No. Come in and be done with it now. My party is arriving this afternoon, and then I won’t have any time for you at all.”
“So soon?”
“They were meant to arrive this morning, but there was a bit of trouble on the road.”
This morning. Did Mother know that? Samuel suspected she might have, and perhaps his errand was an effort to gain first sight of the incoming party they had heard so much talk of. Mother would be disappointed to hear their journey was a little delayed.
Samuel did his best to look appropriately sympathetic. “They will be overjoyed to reach this haven, I am sure.”
“Hmm.” Lady Faversham narrowed her eyes. “You were invited to the dinner, so you shall meet them. Why did you come?”
“An errand for my mother.” He stepped forward, proffering the ridiculous recipe. He did not love having an audience for this moment and hoped Madame Perreau was focused on her task. “She believes you requested this during Oliver and Ruth’s wedding breakfast.”
“So I did,” she said, taking the card and putting it on the sofa beside her without glancing at it. She looked at her cane, her wrinkly skin sagging around her eyes, then up at Samuel. “You aren’t married yet. Be sure to make my guests feel welcome.”
“Of course, my lady.” Though what his marital status had to do with it was anyone’s guess.
“We want them to enjoy their time in Harewood,” she pressed.
Gads, but were all the matrons trying to marry him off now? Were his mother and Lady Faversham in league? What washermotivation? She didn’t need him to gain a fortune, and he didn’t have a title to offer anyone.
Samuel smiled warmly despite the way he felt insects crawling up his spine. “How could they not when they have you as a hostess, my lady?”
She tittered, but her gaze was unwavering. “Men in Harewood are thin on the ground. The eligible bachelors are quickly finding wives, and I fear there won’t be many left dancing soon. I would consider it an honor, Mr. Harding, if you would pay our young ladies special attention when they arrive.”
Theyhadconspired. Somehow, between Mother and Lady Faversham, a plan had been hatched. He suddenly wondered how many of the names on the list his mother wrote would be women in the group that had yet to arrive, the women coming to stay in Lady Faversham’s house. Samuel felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to flee, to turn and run as far and as fast as his legs would carry him.
Instead, he took the hand Lady Faversham held forth and kissed her knuckles in an antiquated gesture. “The honor would be mine.” When he turned to take his leave, he found Madame Perreau had already made her escape.
Disappointment prodded him upon finding her missing. He enjoyed his chats with the woman, and he could have used a distraction at present.
Samuel could not rid himself of the estate fast enough. He slipped from the front door and onto his horse, thanking the groom who had held Valentine’s head. When he faced the longdrive to the road, he noticed a graceful walk and bobbing bonnet and set his horse in motion, a smile curling over his mouth.
He wanted to know if Madame Perreau had found Claude, for he’d been keeping his eye out for any gray cats when he was near the High Street. He was also eager to inform her about his new cat and how well things had progressed in that quarter.
Her rust-colored hem swished over the gravel drive, and he could see her golden hair peeking out from beneath the matching poke bonnet with silk roses. She wore a deep brown spencer jacket that fit her perfectly and was likely of the military design, though he could not see the front yet to determine as much. The shoulders appeared as though they would lean that direction.
“Madame Perreau!” he called when he grew close.
She appeared not to have heard him. In fact, she seemed only to walk faster. The horse’s hooves could be loud. He slid from Valentine’s back and took the reins to pull him along behind. “Madame Perreau,” he repeated loudly.
She glanced over her shoulder, seemingly surprised to find him there. “Good day, Mr. Harding.”
“The same to you.” He hurried to catch up, so he might walk beside her. “Forgive my impertinence, but I was hoping to walk with you back to the village.”
Madame Perreau’s steps slowed to a stop, and she turned to face him, her pale blue eyes blinking against the sunlight. “Whatever for?”
She had the most arresting eyes he had ever seen, and they momentarily caught him off guard. But she had asked him a question, hadn’t she? Samuel swallowed, trying to remember exactly why he had requested her company in the first place.
She likely thought him incredibly forward, and here he was, only interested in hearing about her cat. He took a step back, hoping to convey a proper distance. “Claude, Madame Perreau. I was hoping to hear whether you had located your cat.”
Chapter Six
Marguerite was a foolish woman. She had retrieved the condemning letter from the kissing gate in time. Mr. Harding had no notion at all that she was his secret correspondent. But if she continued to repulse him in this manner, he might very well begin to suspect something was wrong, and he could possibly discover the same thing she had. Marguerite needed to treat him as she always had done, or she might give herself away.
Though even that was not entirely true, for she and Mr. Harding had only ever been passing acquaintances before Claude had forced them into further conversation. Remaining polite but distanced would be safe, she believed.
