“That is not true,” her mother said. “Lady Oxley and her daughter, Miss Bolingbroke, have come to call and I have no doubt they would be delighted to see you.”
“I hardly know either of them.”
“More the reason to speak to them,” her mother encouraged. “I do believe you might have more in common with Miss Bolingbroke than you realize.”
“I do not believe that to be true.”
Her mother’s eyes left hers as they focused on Marigold. “You must make an attempt to re-enter Society, for Marigold’s sake.”
“No one will accept me. I am ruined, Mother,” Enid said. “I have made peace with that. Why can’t you?”
“Because I will never give up on you, and do not ask me to do so.”
Enid could hear the determination in her mother’s words and knew she would not back down on this. She had to admit that it felt good to have an ally. “If it means so much to you, I will go, but you will see that it is a mistake.”
As she stood up, her mother cast her a chiding look. “I do not understand why you choose to sit on the ground in a gown. There is a perfectly good chair right next to you.”
“I prefer to be closer to Marigold.”
“But your gown is terribly wrinkled and you do not have time to change,” her mother said. “We shall have to make do.”
“What horror that I am wearing a wrinkled gown,” Enid teased, bringing a hand to her chest. “How can you possibly be seen with me?”
Her mother did not look amused. “You are impossible, Child.” Her words were light.
The nursemaid stepped out of an adjoining room. “It is time for Miss Marigold’s nap,” Marie announced.
Enid picked up Marigold and hugged the little girl tightly against her. “Sleep well, my love,” she murmured before she handed Marigold off to Marie.
Her mother stepped out of the nursery and Enid followed. As they started walking down the hall, her mother glanced over at her and asked, “How was your ride through Hyde Park?”
An image of Lord Rushcliffe came to her mind. He was large- commanding- and exceedingly handsome. His brown hair was longer than what some would consider fashionable, but she thought it suited him quite nicely. Despite his size, he had never given her a reason to fear him. Quite the opposite, in fact. His words were usually gentle when he spoke to her.
But not today. He had spoken harshly to her and she didn’t fault him for that. She should never have brought up Lady Eugenie. After all, his brother had just been murdered and she hadn’t meant to upset him.
Knowing that her mother was still waiting for a response, she replied, “It was uneventful.” With any luck, her mother wouldn’t press her.
“Interesting, because Malcolm mentioned you spoke to Lord Rushcliffe,” her mother said in a prying tone.
“We did,” she responded, hoping there was no need to elaborate on what they had spoken about. She didn’t wish to go into details.
“I hadn’t realized you were acquainted with Lord Rushcliffe.”
“We have met, on multiple occasions, in fact,” Enid said. “He is a kind man.”
Her mother eyed her curiously. “I think it is promising that a man of his station didn’t dismiss you, considering your reputation.”
“Lord Rushcliffe is too much of a gentleman to ever do such a thing,” Enid said, knowing her words were true. He knew much of her past, but he never once made her feel less because of it.
While they descended the stairs, her mother remarked, “I was acquainted with his mother, Lady Pendle, and I was saddened by her untimely death.”
“I never had the privilege of meeting Lady Pendle.”
“She was a good woman, with an even better heart,” her mother shared. “I know she did not approve of her eldest son’s sullied reputation, and she tried to curtail his wild ways.”
“Everyone was well aware of the late Lord Rushcliffe’s reputation but, fortunately, he did not hanker after debutantes.”
As they stepped into the drawing room, she saw Lady Oxley and her daughter, Miss Bolingbroke, sitting on the blue camelback settee. Lady Oxley had a frown on her face that disappeared the moment she saw them.
