A quarter hour later, another pot of tea arrived accompanied by some sort of grilled cake. “What is this?”
Mary’s eyes danced. “Cook must have thought we were hungry. They are singing hinnies, and this”—she pointed at a slice of cake—“is a spice cake. Cook is famous for it.”
Their friends gathered round for tea and food.
Once Kit had passed cups and plates to everyone he bit into the singing hinny. It tasted of butter, fried scone, and raisins. Could anything be better? “These are wonderful. I’m so glad you encourage Cook to make local foods.” Damn. Now he was complimenting her for her housewifery. “I mean—”
Mary put her hand on his arm, and her voice was soft, as if she wanted only him to hear her. “It’s all right. I know gentlemen love their food.”
Ah, progress. She’d never touched him first before. Who would have believed a compliment could accomplish so much? He’d have to do that more often.
“That is not the only thing we love.” Where in the hell did that come from?
She gazed at him quizzically, but before either of them could respond, Rutherford called out, “These are excellent. We must have this receipt.”
“I shall have Cook write it out for you.” Mary glanced at her watch, and rose. “If we don’t prepare for dinner soon though, we’ll be in her black books.”
Confound it all. The moment was lost. Kit stood as well. “We will be along shortly.” He waited until the last skirt disappeared out the door. “I’d say that went well.”
Marcus raised a brow. “You’d better fix her attention soon.”
“Of course I shall. The quicker we’re married the better this situation will be.”
“I don’t think that is exactly what Marcus is saying.” Huntley rubbed his forehead. “If you cannot convince her being your wife is a better option, your Lady Mary has a plan to avoid the parson’s mousetrap.”
“Not wed?” The ramifications were too horrible to contemplate. Not only would she be ruined, he would be as well, and that wouldaffect his sisters, particularly Meg. “That is not possible. My mother is already at work smoothing over any hint of a scandal.”
Rutherford groaned. “Have you told Lady Mary that?”
“Of course not. I saw no need.” And he damn sure wasn’t going to tell her now. She’d consider it part of a trap. “What did she say?”
Huntley explained her idea, and Kit felt the blood draining from his head. If she ran off he’d have the devil of a time finding her. Just the thought of her alone in a foreign country chilled him. Damn it all, they would marry, and soon. Either that or he’d make his Grand Tour chasing her around Europe.
Mary sipped her sherry. “I just want to go to Paris for the Season.”
After the ladies had bathed and changed, they’d reconvened in her parlor.
“Gossip and other news travels very quickly between Paris and London. With your cousin lying in wait for you, he could easily discover your location,” Phoebe stated firmly. “Being in a foreign country with him would only add to your problems.”
There were times when Phoebe could be annoyingly right, and Mary knew she was acting childishly. Still, it was difficult to give up something she’d had her heart set on for years now: A Season where she could fall in love.
Caro’s brow pleated as she studied Mary. “Does it have to be in Paris?”
Other than London, Paris was the only place she’d ever considered. She took another sip of sherry. “Where else could I go? Vienna? I hear many of thetonlike it there.”
“Edinburgh,” Caro said. “Of course the Season is not as large, but itisan option, and not as far as France or Austria.”
Anna moved to the edge of the wide cane-backed chair. “That’s perfect. Your cousin will never find you in Scotland.”
Mary had never even considered Edinburgh. Before Lady Bellamny had offered to take Diana for the Season, the Brownlys had discussed Edinburgh. There were balls and assembly rooms, and who knew what else. Except . . . “I don’t know anyone there. Where would I reside? Who would sponsor me?”
Caro set her glass down and leaned slightly forward, hindered by the child she carried. “We are going to visit Gervais’s aunt and uncle, Lord Titus and Lady Theo Grantham. Lady Theo is the youngestdaughter of the Duke of Gordon. They have a large house in the new part of the city.” Caro grinned. “From my correspondence with Lady Theo, I’m sure they would welcome more company.” She glanced at Phoebe then Anna. “In fact, we can all go. I shall write to her immediately after dinner and should receive the answer in a day or so.”
Mary stared at Caro. Her eyes glowed and excitement swirled around her. She had been denied a whole Season, but had still found love. The scheme had much to offer. Granted, Edinburgh wasn’t London, but it was a capital. Mary would have her friends with her; she wouldn’t come across anyone who knew her as Lady Mary Featherton; and they were correct, Gawain would never think to look for her there. Not only that, but she’d heard interesting things about Scottish men. If she and Mr. Featherton didn’t suit . . . Perhaps this was meant to be. “What a wonderful idea. If you wish you may use my escritoire and write the letter now.”
Once Caro had sealed the missive, Mary sent it down to be posted by special messenger. She wondered what Kit would think of the plan. No matter, she was going in any event. If he chose to come, he was welcome to accompany them.
The next morning, Kit was in the game room organizing the fishing rods, when Huntley joined him. “The gear looks to be in good condition, and I have enough rods for everyone.”
