Agnes knew Lord Hutchinson loved Lydia, and it had broken her heart when his proposal was interrupted by the arrival of his family’s tragic news. At the time, she couldn’t imagine what made him leave the cottage in Bath so abruptly, but she’d known he was a caring gentleman and would not have willingly hurt Lydia. When she finally heard the news about his family, Lydia had been beside herself with grief. She’d wanted to offer him comfort, but that would never be allowed, so she’d had to deal with not only the loss of the man she loved but also with the fact that she couldn’t comfort him in any way. He wasn’t the only one who’d suffered a devasting loss. Lydia had lost the love of her life, and it had dimmed her enthusiasm for living It was time to try to right the wrongs of the past and give Lydia the life she deserved—being the wife of the man she loved.
After washing and dressing for the day, Agnes put the letter in her reticule. Viscount Surry’s townhouse was in Mayfair, so if he was in Town, he should receive the letter soon. She would post it herself, as she didn’t want any of the servants to be aware of the note. That way, when Thomas questioned them, as he surely would if the viscount came to call, they could honestly say they had nothing to do with it.
She slipped out of the townhouse without anyone noticing. It was time to right a wrong that should never have occurred in the first place.
Chapter 9
Two weeks after the Dresdanball, George stood up from his desk and stretched his arms over his head. He’d been in his study for most of the day, trying to economize across all the properties of the estate without alerting his mother to their dwindling finances. Her disdain for him hadn’t lessened in the months since the death of his father and brothers. Would she ever accept the fact that he was the marquis now, whether he wanted to be or not? He’d hoped time would help heal her grief, but she seemed to wear it like a shroud, keeping everyone at bay. The only person who seemed to have pleasant interactions with Grace was her lady’s maid, Beckwith, who’d been with his mother for nearly three decades. She’d always had a kind word for him growing up, but never where Grace could overhear. George knew Beckwith was in a tricky situation, not wanting to upset or anger her mistress, so he kept any conversation with her to a minimum. He didn’t want Grace to retaliate against her for any reason, and especially not for talking with him. It made him sad that his mother could be so petty, but that was her way. She wasn’t an easy person to live with.
Tea with Grace could be either a silent affair or filled with nothing but criticism for any number of things she felt he wasn’t doing quite right. He tried to ignore her complaints and indulge her as much as he could, but some days, it was best if he didn’t have any contact with her at all. It was better than arguing with her.
It had been several days since the last time he’d joined her for tea. Perhaps today she’d be different…or at least not filled with complaints about this or that. He smoothed down his jacket and left his study, heading for the parlor. However, when he reached the parlor doorway, he was shocked to find her entertaining guests.
“Hutchinson, don’t linger in the doorway. Do join us,” Grace said with a smug smile.
He speared his mother with a glare, but unless he wanted to insult Lady Knight and her daughter he’d have to join them.
“Good day, Lady Knight, Miss Darvey,” he said with a bow as he strode into the room. “I had no idea my mother was entertaining anyone for tea today.”
They stood and curtseyed, saying, “Lord Hutchinson.”
“My lord, won’t you join me on the sofa?” Miss Darvey asked.
Lady Knight had conveniently moved to the chair beside his mother, so he had no choice but to take the seat next to the young woman.
“Miss Darvey, would you be so kind as to pour out tea?” Grace asked.
She smiled. “I’d love to. How do you take your tea, my lord?” she asked Hutchinson.
“A splash of milk, thank you.”
“No sugar today, Hutchinson?” Grace asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
His mother was definitely trying to needle him, but he wasn’t falling into her trap today. He would keep his composure, drink a few sips of tea, and depart. He didn’t appreciate being ambushed. His mother could entertain whomever she wanted, but that didn’t mean he had to participate.
“Just milk is fine today,” he said.
Miss Darvey loaded his plate with biscuits and passed it to him with her prettiest smile. She poured tea for Grace and her mother before preparing a cup for herself and sitting next to him.
“I understand you were at the Dresdan ball recently,” Lady Knight said. “I’m sorry I missed you.”
George nodded but didn’t say anything. He had no doubt Miss Darvey had told her mother how he refused to sign her dance card.
After an awkward silence, Grace said, “I told Hutchinson it was time to reenter Society. After all, he’s a marquis now and in need of a wife.”
George nearly spit out his tea at his mother’s bold words. She was deliberately goading him, and it wasn’t a done thing to start an argument with her about the inappropriateness of her comment in front of her guests. He put down his teacup and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a pressing engagement. Good day, Lady Knight, Miss Darvey,” he said before striding out of the room. He was fuming at his mother’s machinations and had to escape before he said something he’d regret. Sometimes the best course of action was to retreat.
Peters was in the foyer when George came out of the parlor. “My hat and cane, Peters.”
“Right away, my lord,” the butler said, retrieving the items. “Do you wish the carriage brought around?”
George shook his head. “No. I find myself in need of a brisk walk.”
Peters opened the door, and George left the townhouse.
He strode down the street, not caring in what direction he walked. He needed to let his anger cool down before returning home or he’d have very unpleasant words with his mother. Their living situation wasn’t ideal, but there wasn’t much he could do besides banish her from London. That was a drastic step he didn’t want to take. He still held out hope that they could reconcile their differences and live amicably together.
He had no idea what he was going to do. There was only one woman he wanted to marry, and no amount of pressure from his mother would convince him to court Miss Darvey. She didn’t interest him in the least, and he wondered if she ever had a thought in her head that wasn’t centered around fashion or gossip.
