Instead, he followed them at a safe distance, for no other reason than he had to. His jealousy was as irrational as it was misplaced but it wasreal and it was worrying. Especially when he had never been the sort to suffer from it.
Miss Travers and her beau turned out of the square and headed to the small patch of common land where several horses had been left to graze. Blodwyn, the mare he had reluctantly lent her, was there, and they both made a fuss of her. The Valkyrie produced an apple and her Adonis fed it to her horse, while Guy loitered behind a stall still in the market square, watching the pair of them as if his life depended on it.
After a good few minutes, her man friend grabbed her about the waist in the most overfamiliar way to lift Miss Travers onto her mount. Instead of horsewhipping the brute as she should have for taking such a liberty, she laughed. As if she didn’t mind Mr. Handsome manhandling her in the slightest.
Within moments, they were both on horseback, grinning at one another as they trotted down the lane side by side. Out of busy Maidstone toward the secluded countryside beyond. Off to eat cake in private together. Unchaperoned. Where he was in no doubt that more than some forehead kissing and some overfamiliar waist grabbing would take place.
A prospect that nearly made Guy’s head explode.
With an irrational red mist clouding his eyes and his judgment, he ran back to the stable at the inn where he had left Zeus, kicked him into a gallop as soon as they left the market square, and retraced their route.
Except by the time he reached the crossroads half a mile outside of Maidstone, there was no sign of either of them anywhere on the horizon. He was also half an hour late for his meeting with the last merchant he needed to get on his side. Leaving the man waiting was likely not the best way to forge a new alliance.
“To what do we owe this great and rare honor?” His mother blinked in shock when he walked through the door four hours later. “You do realize that it is still daytime? Aren’t there fields or farmers or French beans in urgent need of your constant attention today?”
Guy was in no mood for her sarcasm after his fruitless wild-goose chase hunting down Miss Travers, but smiled regardless. “Is it suddenly a crime to take tea with my two favorite ladies in the world after work has forced me to neglect them for days?”
While his mother’s eyes widened with disbelief, Aunt Almeria’s narrowed. “He’s either taken a knock to the head, Constance, or he’s up to something as I’ve never known my nephew to willingly take tea with us in the middle of the day before. Not when there is always something more pressing that he could be doing as an excuse to avoid the rest of the human race.”
The wily old witch had called it right because he was up to something. He was on a mission to find out more about the infuriating Miss Travers, who was still missing in action, but it would be a cold day in hell before he admitted it. Instead, he took a seat, shrugging. “I will admit that I do have a hundred and one more important things to do, but the guilt which my dear mama ladles on with the world’s largest spoon has got the better of me this afternoon.” In anticipation, he produced the latest note she had left on his nightstand and tossed it on the tea table between them so that her outrageous, angry words at his continued absence could be read by all. Except this time, it was his mother’s eyes that narrowed while his aunt’s widened as she picked up the damning missive, followed by the ever-present quizzing glasses that dangled from an amethyst-encrusted chain to match her customary vivid purple frock.
If you refuse to be sociable for me, the VERY LEAST you could do is spare the odd hour to socialize with my poor, aged sister. Or do you not care that Almeria isso decrepitshe could die at any moment!
After several silent seconds had ticked by, during which his dear mama shot him daggers, his aunt lowered her quizzing glasses and nodded, unoffended. “She’s right, of course. At my age, who knows how many afternoon teas I have left? So shame on you, Guy, for being such an absent host whenI dragged these ancient bones all the way from Mayfair to Kent specifically to spend some time with my favorite nephew before Heaven takes me.”
“And I thought you came here because you are in cahoots with my mother to foist a birthday party on me that I do not want.” He accepted the proffered tea from the meddling woman who had birthed him and toasted Almeria with the cup. “And we both know that when your time comes, aunt, it will be the devil who takes you.”
She cackled at that. “Only if he is brave enough. He and the good lord might decide that I am too much trouble for either of them to bother with and leave me here for all eternity instead.”
“Perish the thought.” He sipped his tea and tried to look nonchalant despite dying to know when the Valkyrie was due to return so he could ask her… he didn’t know what yet, but felt that some words needed to be had. But with his unwelcome lust and even more unwelcome jealousy, he was struggling to think of the right ones. Bloody woman had him tied up in knots and that really bothered him because he had thought that reckless, passionate, and romantic side of him that burned for a woman was long dead. Smothered by betrayal, cynicism, and humiliation. Yet here he was, hoping against hope that Miss Travers wasn’t as head over heels in love with her Adonis as she had looked and had a perfectly reasonable excuse to be galloping off into the sunset alone with a gallingly handsome man. “What have you ladies been doing with yourselves in my absence?”
“The usual,” said his mother. “Catching up. Gossiping. Lamenting about you and your distinct lack of a wife. Or love in your miserable, closeted life. Have I mentioned that I want the old Guy back? The cheeky and incorrigible one who used to laugh.”
In truth, he missed the old Guy too, but didn’t know quite how to be him any longer. That Guy had been sucked inside the armored shell he had retreated behind and got lost. Which was a shame because Miss Travers probably would have liked the old Guy. “Surely not that tired old subject again, Mama?”
“It is you who has become tiresome.” His mother pouted. “Tiresomely serious and tiresomely dull. Old before your years.”
“Responsibilities do that, Mother.” As did having your heart bludgeoned to a pulp in front of the world. “We don’t all have the luxury of whiling away our afternoons drinking tea and gossiping. Some of us have to work.”
As his mother let out a groan of disgust, Aunt Almeria chirped up. “I don’t miss the old Guy. That reprobate used to put honey in my slippers.”
“And spiders in my sewing box.” His mother shuddered. “It took his father an hour to round up all those horrid creepy-crawlies. They had quite taken over the drawing room by the time he heard my screams.” She pouted some more. “You deserved to be sent to bed with no supper that night!”
Except he hadn’t gone to bed with no supper. Because his father found his only son’s prank so hilarious he had snuck Guy in a veritable feast when he had come to “tell him off” after all the spiders had been evicted. Papa had ruffled his hair and then given him five shillings for giving him his best laugh in ages. Which had been Guy’s motive for the crime all along because he had loved making that man laugh. A memory that simultaneously made Guy want to chuckle while making him miss his father all the more.
“No wonder there is no sign of Miss Travers this afternoon. You have bored her senseless with your constant litany of all the many ways I have disappointed you.” Despite how unsettled all the talk of the old Guy made him, he was rather proud of the subtle way he had turned the topic to her. “Did she plead a sudden headache in order to escape?”
“Travers is running errands.”
“Again? This late in the day?” Guy made sure to take a long, perturbed glance at the mantel clock. “It will be dark soon.” Give or take a few more hours, but still. He dreaded to think what mischief she and her fancy man could get up to in four unchaperoned hours. “Are any shops still open at five o’clock?” He didn’t want to outright tell tales on the minx, more sow some seeds of suspicion in his aunt’s mind that might make her more diligent about the hours her companion spent away from her side. “Aren’t you worried about her?”
“Not in the slightest.” His aunt brushed his concerns aside. “I am more worried about you.” She wafted a wizened hand at his face. “You look tired, Guy. Bordering on the haggard.”
“That’s because of all thatimportant workhe does while I’m gossiping over tea.” Always ready with a stick to beat him with, his mother used the pretense of lamenting about him to her sister as a way to nag him by proxy.
“A crime tantamount to treason in this house, apparently,” he said to no one in particular because neither cared what he had to say on the subject. “For heaven forbid a landowner tend his land when he could be drinking tea.”
“Dresses like a common laborer some days too,” continued his mother while his aunt shook her head in sympathy, “then thoughtlessly traipses mud all over the house once he’s done simply to torture me.”
