Page 26 of A Masked Lady for Mr. Kenworthy
“I would be delighted,” she said.
Once more, the countess looked very pleased. Still full of surprises, rather than dipping her head or curtseying to Faye, she stepped closer and pulled Faye into a soft embrace.
“Wonderful,” she said. “I must see to some of the other guests, but I look forward to speaking with you further after the party.”
Faye nodded, dumbfounded, as the countess floated away. She hoped she had interpreted Mr. Kenworthy’s gesture correctly. After all, he could not have overheard her conversation with the countess from so far away, especially over the roar of the other guests. She giggled to herself nervously as it occurred to her that the past few days were by far the strangest she had ever experienced in her entire life. The things which had happened to her were such that one would usually only find them in storybooks. With a sigh, she finished her champagne and waited for the ball to end.
***
After speaking with Lady Salisdene and Mr. Kenworthy, Faye reluctantly allowed the carriage to take her back to Welborn Manor. Her heart was saddened that the one place where she had always felt safe and welcome now felt cold and unfamiliar, eliciting both dread and fear. She could not help trembling as the coach stopped at her family home’s front door. However, she did relax somewhat when she saw Huston was not waiting to greet her. She had once believed that he was only cold to her and her mother because of his master. But, in the months since the two men’s arrival at her home, she had come to realize that he was simply as sinister as Mayson. Perhaps that was why her cousin had hired him.
Before she could make her way up the stairs, Mayson stepped out into her path in the hallway. He had surprised her, but she managed not to gasp or flinch away from him. Now she had Mr. Kenworthy, Lord Daleshire, and Lady Salisdene on her side, she found she felt a little braver in Mayson’s presence. She lifted her head and met his gaze, determined not to let him ruffle her.
“What news?” Mayson growled, standing tall and straight, clearly trying to appear menacing.
Faye took a deep, deliberate breath. She marveled at how strong she felt as she faced her cousin.
“I suppose you wish to know how the party went,” she said.
Mayson was clearly growing agitated, but he managed to keep calm.
“What news do you have?” he repeated through clenched teeth.
Faye gave him a coy smile.
“Lord Turlington invited me to attend a party at his country seat in a few days,” she said slowly.
Her cousin’s expression transformed into a smile that, on any other person’s face, would have looked warm and genuine.
“My, my, little cousin,” he said, tilting his head with intrigue. “You impress me. In fact, you managed to exceed my expectations.” He looked her over in such a lascivious manner that Faye’s bravado began to weaken. “Perhaps I have underestimated you.”
Faye refused to let Mayson see her discomfort. She held his gaze and straightened her shoulders.
“I shall go see to Mother now,” she said.
She turned to walk away from her cousin when he chuckled coldly.
“Yes, you shall,” he said. “And let her serve as a reminder to you of what is at stake. Your sudden arrogance is amusing, but I assure you that there will be no humor in anything, should you do anything to mess up this chance with the marquess. Do I make myself clear, Cousin?”
Faye hesitated but not long enough to respond. She could still feel Mayson’s despicable gaze on her, and she could no longer stomach being in his presence. She marched with determination away from the hallway and up the stairs, shivering once more when she reached her mother’s bedchamber door. She took a moment to collect herself, then entered the room.
The dowager countess was sleeping, and Faye thought to merely kiss her on the forehead and then slip out again quietly, so her mother could rest. But, as she drew closer to the bed, Faye saw that her mother’s unusually pale face was splotched with bright crimson. The effect would have been comical, as it looked rather like badly applied cosmetics, except Faye knew what it meant. She hurried over to her mother and touched her cheek, confirming her fears.
“Oh, my heavens,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “You are burning up with fever.”
The dowager countess stirred when her daughter touched her, but she did not awaken. Faye prayed that meant that the fever had not yet induced a coma. If her mother fell completely unconscious, she would likely succumb to the illness. Quickly, she wiped her mother’s face with a damp, cool cloth. Once more, the frail woman moaned and moved, but her eyes did not open.
Frantic, Faye tossed aside the cloth and rushed from the room. Thinking back to her childhood and the times she herself had fallen ill, she made her way to the kitchens. Bretta was not there, and Faye was grateful for it. She loved the family’s cook, but she was not of a mind to converse with anyone at that moment. As quickly as she could with her trembling hands, she brewed a small batch of herbal tea for her mother. Apart from some herbs, there was little to work with, which had already been steeped for previous uses, but Faye decided they would be better than nothing. For the first time, Faye cursed her father for leaving her and her mother in such a terrible financial situation.
As soon as the tea was ready, Faye poured it into a teacup. Not bothering with a tray, she cradled the cup in her hands gingerly as she went back up the stairs and to her mother’s room. She went to her mother’s side and placed the cup on the bedside table, shaking her mother as firmly as she dared to rouse her.
To her relief, the dowager countess’s eyes fluttered open. She groaned, clearly in pain, but she managed to focus her glassy eyes on her daughter.
“Faye,” she croaked. “Why did you wake me, dear?”
Faye began to cry.
“You have a terrible fever, Mother,” she said softly. “I’ve made you some tea. You must try to drink it, so we can bring down your temperature.”
