“Almost positive. A shame there are so many people in Berkeley Square. It makes it easier for blackguards to hide.” Constance stared at the window from a safe distance. She did not dare look out againherself. If Gawain Tolliver saw her, he would realize that she knew he was watching the house. “Get that young maid. Athey, isn’t it? She can recognize the scoundrel. By the way, how is she doing?”
“Picking up her duties quite well.” Anderson pulled the braided bell pull three times. “I have her cleaning one of your carriage gowns. She’ll be a skilled dresser in no time.”
Not long afterward Miss Athey entered the room and curtseyed. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“Find something to do around the window facing onto the square and tell me if you see Mr. Tolliver.”
Miss Athey took a cloth from her pocket and pretended to clean the window. “Yes, Your Grace. That’s him, all right. I’d recognize him anywhere.”
“Well, drat the man. I can’t lead him to Lady Mary.” Despite Lucinda’s faith in her grandson, it wouldn’t do to have Gawain ruining any courting that may be going on. “I’ll have to think of something else.”
A knock at the door interrupted her.
When Miss Athey opened the door, the Bridgewater butler was there. “Your Grace, the Dowager Viscountess Featherton is waiting for you in the morning room.”
“Just in time. Perhaps she will have an idea.” Constance rose and picked up her cane. Getting old was the very devil. “You may help me down the stairs.”
He held out his arm. “Yes, Your Grace.”
When she entered the morning room, Lucinda was standing at the door to the garden. She turned. “Lovely this time of year.”
“I agree. My granddaughter did an excellent job when she was here a couple of years ago. Come sit. We have a problem.”
After Constance told her friend about Tolliver’s presence, Lucinda asked, “Isn’t Mary in correspondence with Lady Evesham and Lady Huntley?”
“She is. They have been friends for years.”
“In that case,” Lucinda said, grinning, “I have just the thing, and Kit won’t even know he’s been tricked. I am quite sure the ladies would be happy to help. I was at Catherine Beaumont’s house the other day when her grandson and his wife brought the baby to visit. Such a beautiful little girl. They will be leaving Town in the next day or so. As I understand it, the Eveshams and Huntleys plan to accompanythem. I believe there is some talk of going to Edinburgh. One of Huntley’s aunts lives there.”
There was no doubt both couples were discreet enough, and the gentlemen were friends of Kit’s. In addition, in the event Mary balked, Lady Evesham and Lady Huntley were more than capable of convincing her that she must wed Kit. Constance walked to the writing table. “I’ll ask the ladies to attend me immediately. Not only will they be able to help ensure that everything goes well, they can stay to witness Kit and Mary’s marriage vows.”
Eunice ambled toward the wood, her hand tucked in the crook of Mr. Doust’s arm. Once she’d seen the look of recognition on Mr. Featherton’s face when he saw her niece, she had been fairly certain all would be well. Mama and old Lady Featherton had been right when they said he had a tendre for Mary. Be that as it may, it wouldn’t hurt to keep the rector near in the event of a problem. Besides, Eunice wanted to spend more time with him. Soon he’d be nothing more than a pleasant memory. Well, perhaps more than merely pleasant, but a memory nonetheless.
She’d not been as drawn to a man since Roger, and she didn’t know why Mr. Doust interested her so. He was not much above average height, nowhere near as tall as her husband had been, or as flamboyant. On the other hand, she herself was short, so a man need not be tall to appeal to her. His eyes were a clear brown. Much like a horse’s. He was stocky but had not run to fat, and he moved with a grace she would not have expected. At the local assembly in January, they had danced, and if he had tried to kiss her, she would have let him. If not for Mary and the May game they were playing . . . Eunice sighed. If, if, if. None of it mattered. She recited the story she had decided to tell him. “We will leave for Town as soon as my mother arrives.”
His brow furrowed. “When will that be?”
“I’m not sure. Next week or soon thereafter. Before my niece’s birthday.”
“And what of Mr. Featherton?”
Drat. She kicked a stone. This was what came of allowing her mind to wander.
Before she could think of an answer, Mr. Doust said, “It is clear Lady Mary was not expecting Mr. Featherton, nor was she . . . bestpleased to see him.” The rector stopped, turning her toward him. “Lady Eunice, I hope we have become friends. If you tell me what is going on, I might be able to help.”
Eunice repressed a groan. Should she reveal the secret and watch as Mr. Doust lost all respect for her? Yet when he gazed at her with those steady brown eyes, she felt herself wanting to confide in him.
“You do realize,” he said quietly, “that even if I were prone to gossip, my vows prohibit me from doing so.”
A smile tugged one corner of her mouth. She could not imagine anyone less disposed to tittle-tattle than the rector. She took a breath. “Very well, but you must promise not to say a word until I’m finished.”
He led her to a wooden bench and waited for her to sit before he did, then he took her hand and held it. “I promise.”
A light shiver ran through her. Why did it feel as if he were offering more than concern for a friend? “After Mary’s father died, only a year after her mother, and the mourning period was up, her brother Barham and his wife removed to Town for the Season. Mary resided with them. Mama and I thought nothing of their cousin Gawain Tolliver being around, until he began pressing his attentions on Mary. Barham warned him off, but that just made Tolliver more devious about following her. Then one evening, during some entertainment or other, as she was returning from the ladies’ retiring room, he tried to trap her. Fortunately she was able to get away, but he didn’t stop his attempts to compromise her. Barham wrote to his uncle, Tolliver’s father, and complained, but he received no reply. Soon it got to the point where Tolliver was popping up wherever Mary went, and . . .” Once she’d finished the story, Eunice waited as Mr. Doust sat quietly for a few moments.
“Why Mr. Featherton?”
“His grandmother, one of my mother’s bosom friends, was sure he’d had an interest in Mary, and Mama thought that during Mary’s first Season she had noticed him more than the other gentlemen. To hear Mama and the Dowager Lady Featherton talk, it is past time he was wed. Even his father, who has been very tolerant about his unmarried state, has begun pushing for him to find a wife. That was when his grandmother, Mama, and Lady Bellamny hatched their plan.” Eunice glanced at Mr. Doust, but his countenance showed nothing but polite interest. “I must admit, I agreed with them. Mr. Featherton is amuch better choice than Mr. Tolliver, who is a fish-faced cur who only wants Mary’s money. Mama is a dab hand at arranging matches. Still, after being here, I do wish there had been another way. I did not appreciate how close to courting scandal this would be.”
