Piggott’s jaw dropped. “All that way, sir?”
“Damned if I’ll be cooped up in a coach for a week. No one would be able to bear me, not even myself.”
“May I inquire as to the rush?”
“I’ll tell you later. At present, I must cry off from all my engagements. Pack me a bag with what I’ll need if we get separated, including my buckskin breeches. No need to wear Town togs while traveling.”
Sitting at his writing table, Kit removed his gloves. Well, at least this got him out of Town and freed him from bride hunting. Guilt attempted to take hold, and he shook it off. Who the devil would have the unmitigated presumptuousness to pose as his wife? If she were not an actual lady—and it was difficult to imagine a member of the aristocracy behaving in such a way—she must be awfully talented to fool Lady Bellamny, and no matter what her background, the woman would have to be a bold piece. The sooner he got on his way, the sooner he would have the answers to his questions. Perhaps he would run down Lady B and try to pry more information out of her. On second thought, that would involve her more than he wished. She was trying enough. He certainly did not want her meddling in his affairs. Despite what he’d said to his mother, Kit did not wish anyone matchmaking on his behalf, nor did he want to run the risk of meeting the young lady residing with her.
He wanted to punch something or someone. It was a shame he did not have the time to go to Jackson’s. He could not believe a lady was masquerading as his wife—only an experienced charlatan would be able to pull off a deception like that. Not to mention that no lady would demean herself so, and take such a risk with her reputation. Whoever she was, she wouldn’t be there for much longer.
As he sealed the last missive, the clock chimed three. Piggott had departed at least half an hour ago. Kit would be another hour leaving London, but they’d travel until it was almost dark.
His groom, Dent, knocked on the door and entered. “All’s ready, sir.”
Kit picked up the notes and his bag, and followed the groom out to the street, where his curricle was waiting. After leaving the messages with his father’s butler, he drove to Dunwood House in Grosvenor’sSquare, where the Eveshams lived during the Season. Dent jumped off as Kit drew the horses to a halt before climbing down. “I won’t be long.”
As soon as he entered the house, he could hear voices and laughter, high and low, coming from the back.
“My lord.” Wilson, the Dunwood butler, bowed. Kit was shown to a large, noisy drawing room filled with parents and children. Who would have thought his friends would be so prolific?
Phoebe took him by the arm, leading him into chaos. “Kit, I’m so glad you were able to come. Marcus told me you must be on your way soon.”
“Yes, forgive me, but it is unavoidable.”
She smiled. “It’s no matter. If you need anything, send a message. Come and I’ll introduce you to Eugénie Wivenly, and you must see Serena and Robert’s little girl. She is adorable.”
Kit hadn’t realized how tense he was until the thought of Beaumont with a daughter made him want to laugh again. Eugénie, Lady Wivenly, turned out to be a stunning young French woman who obviously had Wivenly wrapped around her slender fingers. Kit had never thought to see his friend so besotted.
Little Miss Elizabeth Beaumont gazed at him with serious green eyes, but it looked as if she’d have her mother’s auburn hair. She grabbed onto the finger he gave her. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Miss Beaumont.” Turning to Serena, he smiled. “She is as beautiful as her mother. I predict she’ll run Robert ragged.”
Serena gave a peal of laughter. “She already is. I pity the man who falls in love with her.”
He kissed Elizabeth’s brow. A longing for a family of his own suddenly surged up inside him. As soon as he got rid of the doxy living at Rose Hill, he’d make a point of forgetting about Lady Mary and find a woman with whom he could share his life and raise a family.
Mary pushed back the wide-brimmed straw hat she wore for gardening, stripping off her gloves before taking the glass of lemonade from Simons. “I think it’s coming along.”
“Indeed it is, my lady. I haven’t seen the garden look so good in a great many years.”
Daniels, the gruff, wiry old head gardener, leaned on a shovel. “Won’t see all of what her la’yship has done ’til summer and next year, but she’s got some talent, she has.”
The warmth rising in her cheeks stopped as she realized she wouldn’t be here to enjoy the fruits of her efforts. If only she could return here after her Season. Glancing up at the sky, she supposed it to be close to five o’clock. Past time she should be dressing for dinner.
She finished the glass, handing it back to Simons. “Daniels, I think we had a good day.”
“Yes, my lady. We’re just about finished for now.”
If only it were simply for now. This would be one of her last days in the garden. Keeping a pleasant expression pasted on her face, she made her way up the back stairs. The closer it came to the time she must leave, the more she wanted to remain. Would Mr. Featherton sell the property to her? Once her birthday had passed, she could well afford it. Yet that didn’t answer the question of her name. He certainly would not allow her to continue to masquerade as his wife.
Hot tears pricked her lids. Taking a handkerchief out of her pocket, she dabbed at the corners of her eyes. There was no reason to become maudlin now. She would go to London and have her Season. She would meet a gentleman to wed. Then she would have a home she could make her own.
“Were you rolling around in the mud?” Mathers stood at the dressing room door, hands on her hips.
Mary gave a watery chuckle. “You might think so. I did remember to wear my gloves. And I have left my shoes by the garden door.”
“Well, that’s something. I’ll get the shoes later. Come along now and get that dirt off you.”
Soon Mary sank into the warm water of her bath. She hated having to deceive the servants, dependents, and all the local people. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it. She gave herself a shake. Looking to the future would be more productive than moping and wishing things were different.
