Page 27 of Lady Mary's May Day Mischief
“I assure you, he did. He was most unhappy that he had to return to his duties before he could pursue his friendship with you.”
“Was he?” That, too, sounded skeptical. She smoothed her hand over her book. “I wonder if you could tell me if you are still in communication with him?”
“I was. Until a few weeks ago. Only lately have I returned to England and so my mail, I am certain, sits in Paris.”
“I see.” She did not know where to look to escape the riot of emotions that ran over her delicate features. “Might you…? Would you please tell me how he is? I heard of his injuries and I am most distressed about him.”
“He recovers, though slowly.”
“I’d understood he returned home to Cranfield Haven last summer. I remember how he loved it and I hoped he’d recover quickly there.”
“I understand he does.”
“But his arm… Has he regained use of it?”
She knew quite a bit about him and that indicated her continuing interest in Langdon. “Not completely, no.”
She shot backward in her chair. Pain drained away her curiosity. “I am very sorry to hear that.”
“Miss Weaver, I hope you will forgive my forwardness if I tell you that—”
She put up a hand. “Do not criticize me, please. I do that enough myself.”
“He cares for you, Miss Weaver. If you could find it in your heart to write to him, he—”
“I have written, sir. So many letters. So many… He does not reply.”
That saddened him. “I’m sorry. I did not know.”
Her gaze snapped to his, bold and hard. “What happened between us was my fault, Lord Bridges. I was silly, and asked a friend of mine to help me make James jealous. I take full responsibility for it. It turns out that I did a very good job of it. So good, I destroyed what fine opinion he had of me. I shall forever regret it.” She got to her feet. “So if you’ll excuse me?”
And without waiting for a reply, she left him where he sat.
* * *
The guests strolled the country lane to the small village of Ablemore. Mary craned her neck to try to spot Blake in the crowd but did not see him. Nor did she spot Lord Charlton. Worry beset her as she wondered if Charlton had stayed at the Hall with Fifi. That would cause tongues to wag.
“Are you looking for Lord Bridges?” Ivy came abreast of her. “He’s gone ahead with Lord Collingswood.”
She nodded.
“No need to keep it a secret. We know you like each other. Quite well, I add.”
“I do.”
“Ah. I see. We will not speak of it lest we jinx it. Fine, fine. Another subject then? Good. I hoped Fifi might join us.” Before Mary had dressed to walk to the village, she’d gone to Fifi’s door and knocked. Welles had answered and told her that Fifi met with Esme in the orangery at Esme’s request. That sparked alarm in Mary because the cousins always quibbled. This time, if Fifi still clung to her belief that she should have Northington as beau and husband, the two women had much to argue over.
“I understand Fifi is to take the pony cart here in a few minutes.”
Ivy leaned closer. “Did you know she and Esme talked just now?”
Mary felt a frisson of apprehension. “I do. I hope it was peaceful.”
“For once, you mean?” Ivy looked skeptical. “Esme told me last night she wished to make amends with Fifi.”
“Do you think she means it?” Mary had her doubts. Esme never seemed to regret anything she did in regard to charming men. Any man.
“Grace says so. She’s always been closer than the rest of us to Esme, closer than you to her, too. Grace believes love and marriage has made a woman of our capricious girl.”
