Mary penned one letter to her brother’s man of business and another to Barham, explaining everything that was going on, what she wanted done, and authorizing him to act in her behalf. That was much better than waiting until her twenty-fifth birthday. When she’d sealed them into a packet, she summoned her groom, Terrey.
A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. “My lady, you wanted me?”
She handed him the package. “I need this sent to London as quickly as possible.”
“I’ll get them off to catch the mail coach right away.”
He closed the door behind him, and it was as if the weight of the world had lifted from her shoulders, almost as if she could float in the air. For the first time in years, she felt free. Now she could be courted without knowing whether or not she would actually marry Kit. What a wonderful position to be in. And if she was unable to love him, Mary would make plans to travel the Continent. Phoebe and Caro would help her make the arrangements.
An hour later, Mary stared into the mirror, fidgeting as her dresser arranged her hair.
“Do be still, my lady.”
“I am.”
Mathers huffed, but didn’t speak again. Once she was done, she handed Mary her spangled shawl.
Mary arrived in the drawing room to find Kit already there. She briefly considered telling him what she had decided. If he was serious about courting her, it wouldn’t matter, and if he wasn’t, then she wanted to know immediately. She could always change the orders regarding a trust if she decided to wed him. On the other hand, perhaps it was best to say nothing. For the time being, she’d enjoy her independence.
She smiled as he greeted her, raising her fingers to his lips. His breath hovered over them, and a tingle started in the tips, moving upthrough her arm. She’d felt a warmth before, but, oh my, that was very nice indeed. She’d always known she would enjoy being wooed.
Her breathing hitched as he gazed into her eyes. “Good evening, Kit.”
“Good evening, my dear.”
Oooh, an endearment, and he sounded sincere. He was certainly moving this courting business right along. She wondered how soon he’d kiss her, and if the kiss swept her away—just as she had always dreamed of—she’d know it was love.
She chewed her lip, wondering what he’d do next.
When he led her to the window-seat, she noticed two glasses of sherry on the table next to it as well as a chair. He’d also done his research as to what she liked to drink and where she preferred to sit.
Kit placed one of the cushions behind her, before sitting in the chair. “I think your rector may be joining us as well.”
That shouldn’t surprise her. Even though Mr. Doust had been very helpful when he took Aunt Eunice away this afternoon, and Mary had made the decision her aunt would have expected her to make, she dreaded seeing her aunt and Mr. Doust this evening. “He has been fond of Aunt Eunice for an age, and she of him. I wish them well.”
“As do I.” Kit leaned back in his chair, idly twirling his glass.
Mary took a sip. “I wish I knew more about him.”
He flashed her a smile. “Worried about your aunt?”
“Perhaps a little. You must admit, he is not your normal run-of-the-mill rector. He seems different somehow. Have you seen his horses?”
“It was one of the first things I noticed.” Setting his glass down untouched, he took her hand. “I don’t think you have much to worry about. I would wager he is a close relation to the Earl of Marnly. They are famous for their cattle. The earl is quite elderly. Mr. Doust may be one of his sons.”
“Then his horses make sense.” Eunice would be happy to remain in the area. She had mentioned something about it being like home. Mary felt the same, but she could not allow that to influence her choice of husband. She would wed for love and nothing less. “I suppose there is nothing to be concerned with after all.” Mary took a sip of her wine. “Tell me about yourself. I only know that you spend most of your time in London, own Rose Hill, and our grandmothers are friends.”
Kit stood, lounging against the side of the window seat. He truly did look magnificent. “I generally spend only the Seasons in Town.The rest of the year I reside at our principal estate, or travel to the lesser properties. As you might know, I am heir to Viscount Featherton, whom I sincerely hope lives to a ripe old age.” He grimaced a bit. “I have a sister who is two years younger than I. She has three children. A brother who will finish at Oxford this year, and is pegged for the foreign service. A younger sister who has been out for a couple of years now and appears to have finally settled on a gentleman. Two more sisters who will make their come outs next year and the year after, and a younger brother. Family tradition has him going into the army, but he’s much too bookish. I expect he’ll go to the church. Fortunately, my father holds several livings.”
Mary grinned. “I can understand why you wish him a long life.”
Kit raised his glass in a salute. “Indeed. Just the thought of having guardianship over the children has me in a panic. Though, we generally get along well. Have you only Barham?”
“No. I’m not actually the only girl. I have an elder sister, Osanna, but she has been married and living near Land’s End since I was nine. We are not close. She is the oldest. Barham also has several years on me, yet he has always been around, thus I know him better, and we rub along quite well. The twins, both men now, are close to my age, but they’ve left home. Our family traditions are not so different from yours. One is in the army, and the other in Vienna with the foreign service.” She had always wished for a sister closer to her age. “Do you know Barham?”
Kit had been in the middle of taking a sip of sherry when she asked. He swallowed. “We were in Eton together. Afterward he went on to Cambridge, and I attended Oxford.”
“Yes, he was always more interested in the sciences. In some ways he is very like Uncle Hector.” She paused, still attempting to make sense of the change in her uncle. “Until my father died, and Uncle began insisting I wed his son.”
