Page 11 of Lady Mary's May Day Mischief
“Only to ladies who refuse proper treatment. Now. Shall I unlace your boot or do you wish to be crippled for the rest of your life?”
Fifi blustered but she bent over and unlaced her own boot. Then she thrust her foot toward him.
Charlton carefully secured it to his lap. “Good. Will you roll down your stocking please?”
“Turn away.”
With a bark, he did.
“Mary,” Blake turned her attention to him, “what were you doing in a public coach?”
“Mine needs repairs and couldn’t be done before Lady Fiona and I were to leave.”
“Allow me to convey my condolences about the death of your parents. In person this time.” He looked repentant.
The only letter she’d had from him, kind but curt as it was, had been one of sympathy for the loss of her parents. She didn’t wish to mar their reunion so soon with apologies. “Please let’s not speak of it.”
“Agreed. I deplore discussions of it all. So.” He covered her hand with his own large warm one—and twined his fingers in hers. “Where are you both off to?”
“Courtland Hall.”
His dark blue eyes twinkled. “The Courtlands’ May Day Frolic? We are, too.”
She grinned.The new recruits.
“The what?” he asked.
Where was her tapestry needle?“New visitors to the Frolic.”
“We are!”
Fifi yelped as Charlton wrapped his cravat around her ankle and pulled tight. “Be careful, sir!”
“I won’t kill you!”
Mary doubted that, but focused on Blake. “Were you both in Bath?”
“Yes. Visiting Charlton’s uncle. He was an instructor at Woolwich. Geometry and algebra. I liked him tremendously. Retired now, he is not well.” Curiosity crossed his finely-boned features. “Why aren’t you living in your family’s cottage near Canterbury?”
“The new earl wanted that one for himself.”
“I must speak to him. You loved that little house.”
“I did and you must not talk to him on my behalf. I’m happy in Bath. It is small. Society is intimate. Lady Fiona and I occupy ourselves there. But I had no idea you knew Winston.” Her cousin had inherited the Dalworthy title and lands upon her father’s death.
“I met him years ago. Delightful fellow. I’d expect he does the earldom proud.”
“He does. But tell me about you.” She ignored the question of why he’d not written to her, save for his note of condolence. Upbraiding him was no way to resume their friendship. Instead, she’d learn everything he’d done since last they met. Had he fought at Waterloo? Was he with the Occupation forces now? Would he return abroad? “You’re home to England. Since when? How? And have you taken up your duties of Lawton Abbey? Now that you are Baron Lawton-Bridges, will you resign your commission in the Royal Engineers?”
“Good questions. I’ve not many answers yet. For one, I’m surprised that both Fred and Charles are gone. Third sons are never meant to inherit but to conquer the world in other ways. I only just arrived from the Continent two weeks ago and I debate what I’ll do about my commission. In fact, one reason I wished to visit with my former instructor is because I wanted his advice.” Frustration on his brow, he glanced out the window and back. “Nonetheless, here I am. Going to a party, no less!”
“Have you been home?”
Home.The word stuck in her throat. Home. She shut her eyes, remembering the rambling red brick mansion along the Ouse. It stood across the river from the white stone Palladian of his own ancestral home, Lawton Abbey. She’d forgotten so much of her life there, her gaiety, her family. Him. She’d forced herself to forget. Told herself not to pine for it. For him.
He cupped her cheek. “Oh, Birdie. You loved it so. Have you not returned since your parents died? Did Winston not invite you? The bounder. Ishallspeak to him.”
She squeezed his arm. “Oh, don’t. To gain the earldom was a shock for him. He’s coming here to the Frolic and it’s the first time he’s invited. Be kind to him.”
