Page 6 of If the Slipper Fits
Caden bowed over the lady’s proffered, gloved hand. “A pleasure. Wentworth of Northumberland, my lady?”
She gave a regal nod, looking pleased.
Harrison spoke up. “Thurgood was good enough to accompany me to Lady Bernadette’s engagement party in Sterling’s stead. You remember my brother, the viscount? An emergency about which he would reveal nothing prohibited his attending. Of course, he hated to let Aunt Claudine and Bernie down. His loss, if you ask me. Had he known the infamous Lady Wentworth would put in an appearance, nothing could have kept him away.” Harrison laid his free hand over his heart.
Lady Wentworth’s lips twitched. “Keep it up, m’ boy, and you may earn the spot as my new favorite…er…nephew or cousin or whatever.” Waving a dainty lace kerchief, she said, “Now be a good lad and run along.”
Harrison wasted no time obeying the lady’s directive.
She pinned Caden with a stare.
She wished to speak with him privately? This grew more intriguing by the minute.
“Shall we stroll, Lady Wentworth?”
At her nod, Caden tucked her hand into his elbow and led her along the gravel path perimeter of the green.
“Mr. Thurgood, how fares your head?”
He slid her a look. “Quite well, my lady, I suspect due to my having a rather hard cranium—a trait that runs rampant in my family. Pray tell, is it you to whom I owe my life? As I understand it, Harrison left me face down in the muck to either self-resuscitate or suffocate.”
Lady Wentworth gave an unladylike snort. “No, dear boy, it was not I, but my companion, Mrs. Jones, who charged to your rescue. Indeed she dragged you from the shore onto the grass.”
Mrs. Jones? The name didn’t ring a bell.
“Dragged me, you say, my lady?” At well over six feet and a good fifteen stone last he’d checked, that would be no easy feat. “I’d very much like to thank your companion.”
Lady Wentworth smile with evident satisfaction. “I thought you might.”
She directed him to the far side of the lawn. As they drew near, he noted two lounge chairs, one turned to face away from the crowd. It had an occupant.
His eyes trained on the lounger as if the mysterious Mrs Jones would disappear should he look away. A ridiculous notion, and yet, neither he nor Lady Wentworth uttered a word as they made their approach in stealth.
A pair of well-polished black leather boots, crossed at the ankles, were the first he saw of the dowager duchess’s companion. The fine boots were all the more noticeable peeking out from dull brown skirts.
Then his eyes lit on the whole of her.
She reclined, eyes closed as if in sleep. She wore a large, ugly bonnet, rim pushed back to expose a heart-shaped face. The corners of her full pink lips curved upward, just slightly, as if on the verge of a smile.
An answering grin tugged at his mouth.
She looked absurdly serene, like a cat, napping in a snug kitchen. He almost hated to disturb her.
Lady Wentworth, it seemed, had a similar disinclination, and, for a long moment, the two of them gazed upon Mrs. Jones.
Something must’ve given them away, however, because without opening her eyes, she spoke. “You found your scone, I expect?”
The older woman snorted. "I quite forgot the scone. But I did acquire a new friend.”
Jones's lids flew open. In the next instant, she tugged her bonnet down so it covered her, forehead to lip while springing to her feet faster than he could blink. The lounger sat between them like a moat.
Impressive agility. Odd, but impressive.
The Dowager patted Caden’s forearm and went on as if Mrs. Jones hadn't leapt up like a hunted rabbit. “Quite by accident I crossed paths with Mr. Thurgood. Wouldn’t you know he expressed a desire to meet his rescuer?”
Mrs. Jones made a noncommittal sound, something between a “Mmm,” and a “Harumph,” and angled a brief look at Caden from under the brim of her bonnet.
Lady Wentworth made the introductions. “Mr Thurgood, my companion, Mrs. Anna Jones. Mrs. Jones, your patient, Mr Caden Thurgood.”
