“Bett, would you care for a glass of sherry?” Peter asked.
“Thank you, that would be lovely.”
He walked to the sideboard to pour her a glass.
“So, what have you been doing to occupy your time while I’ve been away?” Bett asked Cecily.
Cecily patted her swollen belly. “Peter’s heir has been quite active of late, and with the weather growing hotter these past weeks, I’ve rested more than I ever have in my life,” she said with a chuckle.
“I’m sure the next eight weeks or so will go by in a trice. It will all feel worthwhile when you’re able to hold your precious baby in your arms.”
Cecily sighed. “I’m very much looking forward to that.” She grasped Bett’s hand. “I’m so happy you’re back. I’ve missed your company, and, especially, how lively the house used to be when we had guests for tea.”
Peter handed Bett a glass of sherry.
“Thank you, Peter,” Bett said.
He went to stand beside his wife and placed a hand on her shoulder. “My darling, we’ve talked about this. I do feel it’s best if we don’t entertain at this time in your pregnancy. I don’t want you to be overwhelmed with anything.”
Bett saw Cecily give Peter a loving smile and felt a little pang of longing, remembering when Stephen used to look at her that way.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve invited Miss Bent to tea the day after tomorrow. I do hope that will not overtax you, Cecily.”
Cecily’s eyes lit up with joy. “Oh, how wonderful. I’d love to see her again. It’s been too long since we had an opportunity to chat.”
Peter frowned. “Bett, I would appreciate it if you’d refrain from inviting anyone else to the manor for the foreseeable future. My greatest concern is for Cecily’s health, and I don’t want to see her become overtaxed.”
“Peter, darling, I’m perfectly capable of sitting on the sofa and enjoying a cup of tea with Bett and Miss Bent. You worry too much. I am well.”
Bett looked at Peter, whose mouth was set in a grim line. She’d noticed that as the months of her mourning had gone by, he’d become more controlling, not only of his wife’s activities but of what Bett did as well. She didn’t appreciate him curtailing her ability to invite guests into her own home.
Wait.
It took her a moment to realize.
It wasn’t her home anymore, and the sooner she rectified that situation, the better for everyone. Unfortunately, the only man she was interested in had failed to show any further interest in her after the Fleming house party. Unless she wanted to move back with her parents, she had nowhere else to go.
“Of course, my love,” Peter said. “I only worry for your health and that of my heir.”
“I promise I shall rest before and after Miss Bent’s visit. Will that ease your mind?”
He smiled at his wife. “It does.”
Bett had to think long and hard about her next steps. Yes, she wanted to find a husband and run her own household again, but she didn’t want to rush into marriage. She wanted to get to know the gentleman first, but with Peter basically forbidding her from inviting guests to Crenshaw Manor until after the baby was born, she’d have to find another way to go about finding a potential husband.
Should she plan on going to London with her mother when Serena was presented at Court in the spring? That seemed like a lifetime away. However, it would seem she had little choice but to accompany them if she wanted to meet someone new.
As much as a trip to London should excite her, she found that her heart wasn’t in it, as she was still enamored with Mr. Hughes. She would have to banish him from her stubborn heart if she wanted to fall in love with someone else… although, at the moment, that seemed an insurmountable task.
Had she already fallen in love with Mr. Hughes?
As much as she wanted to say that she merely admired him, that was far from the truth. Her treacherous heart had fallen hard for him, and she didn’t know if she’d ever meet anyone else who could send such delicious shivers down her spine or give her such toe-curling, scorching kisses.
Oh, Mr. Hughes, where are you?
Chapter 8
Noah gave Midnight his head, and the stallion galloped with ease across the meadow. It felt good to race.
