Will stifled a groan. Featherheaded females. Why had he ever allowed his mother to talk him into this house party on the eve of his departure for the West Indies?
Miss Blakely linked an arm in Miss Hawthorne’s. “Perhaps it might be better to send a servant. You wouldn’t want to ruin your gown.”
“You are correct.” As the two headed back to the formal garden, she added, “But let us find someone straight away. Lord Wivenly must be around somewhere.”
Will tipped his hat.Sorry, ladies, this fox is going Halloo and Away.
He waited until they were half-way to the lake before climbing out of the tree. After regaining the house, he sneaked up a back staircase and strode to his bedchamber. “Tidwell!”
“I’m right here, my lord.” The valet poked his head out from the dressing room. “No reason to shout. I’m getting your evening kit ready.” He held up two waistcoats. “Would you prefer the green on cream or the gold?”
“I’d prefer to leave. Get everything packed. You’ve got an hour.”
Tidwell bowed. “As you wish, my lord.” His eyes narrowed as he took a sharper look at Will. “If I do not treat those stains, they’ll never come out.”
He glanced down. Not only mulberry juice, but leaf stains as well. “You’ll just have to make do. It’s not safe for me here.”
“Another ruined suit.” His valet sighed. “More problems with the ladies, I presume.”
Taking pity on Tidwell, Will said, “Pack me a bag. You remain here until the toggery is cleaned. I’ll take my curricle and meet you back at Watford Hall. Send the coachman a message as to when you’ll be ready.”
Tidwell immediately brightened. “Yes, my lord.”
Changed into fresh clothing, Will donned his caped coat and hat, then found his host and made his excuses. By the time he stepped out into the stable yard, his carriage was ready and his groom, Griff, was holding the horses’ heads.
Will climbed into his curricle. “Good job.”
“Thought it might be gettin’ a bit hot for you hereabouts, my lord.”
“Right as usual. Let their heads go.”
Griff jumped onto the back as Will maneuvered the carriage out of the yard and onto the gravel drive. He caught a glimpse of Miss Hawthorne. She smiled at him, but when he smiled then inclined his head and sprung the horses, her jaw dropped.
Another close escape.
Five days later, Dover, England
The docks bustled with activity as ships prepared to sail with the tide. Will had met his friend Gervais, Earl of Huntley, in London, and traveled down to the port city with him.
The early morning sky was about to lighten when they reached the packet setting sail for France, on which Huntley was booked.
“Godspeed in your travels,” Will said.
Huntley clasped Will’s hand. “Good luck to you sorting out the problem in St. Thomas. I’ll see you in the spring.”
“Only if I can’t think of a good excuse to remain abroad.” Will grimaced. “Before I left, my father made me promise I’d marry next year.”
“My father said the same to me. We’ll lend each other support.” Huntley’s grim countenance reminded Will of a man going to trial. “Perhaps you’ll be lucky enough to fall in love.”
Will almost choked. “You think that’s lucky? I’d have to completely rearrange my life. No, thank you. I’ll probably end up picking one of the ladies my mother parades before me. At least then I’ll know what to expect.”
And he wouldn’t risk living under the cat’s paw because of a woman.
“My lord, the ship’s about to depart,” Huntley’s groom called from the packet.
“You’ll do as you think best.” Huntley slapped Will’s back.
“You, as well.” Will strode down the street to a Dutch fly-boat, one of the smaller sailing ships plying their trade ferrying passengers and goods to the many ports scattered up and down England’s far western coast.
