AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes,” her sister replied with a sigh. “I do wish he and his mother would decide on a date. The anticipation is driving me mad. People keep asking me when the wedding will take place. I feel like a fool saying we haven’t set a date yet.”
She hoped her sister realized just how much of a hold Lady Bolton had over her son. Louisa feared it might cause issues with their marriage. “Emma, have you asked Bolton about the date when you have been away from his mother?”
“We are seldom away from his mother. She seems to be everywhere we go.”
“Perhaps you should mention that to him while dancing,” Louisa murmured as they entered the carriage.
“I will, at the next ball.”
Thankfully Mamma decided she had a headache tonight. Or as Louisa knew, her mother had an assignation with Lord Hammond while they were out. She had explicitly told Louisa not to return before ten.
Upon arriving at the Gringhams’ home, Colling
wood found her immediately. “Good evening, Miss Drake.”
“Good evening, my lord.”
He insisted on finding them seats for the reading. Louisa glanced around the room. What the devil was Harry doing standing next to Mary Gardiner? Louisa looked away from him as she pressed a hand to her aching belly. They appeared to be involved in a serious discussion. The sight of them standing so close was like a knife twisting in her stomach.
“Miss Drake, would you like some lemonade?” Collingwood asked as if eager to please her.
“A glass of wine would be lovely.”
“Wine?”
“Yes, wine,” she replied, trying not to show irritation at his questioning her choice of drink. Collingwood wandered off to the refreshment table.
“He looked quite taken aback by your request,” Emma said with a small laugh. “You’d best let him know how you do like your wine...and brandy...and port.”
“Hush. Oh, look here comes Bolton...with his mother, of course.”
“I had hoped that for just one night we might be alone without her chaperoning her son.”
“Oh, but you are one of those Daring Drake sisters who might influence her son in some immoral manner,” Louisa said with a smirk.
Emma chuckled. “Perhaps you and Tessa are daring, but I decided long ago to not follow in your footsteps. I have every intention of gaining a husband and a title in only the most proper of ways.”
Louisa stepped away as Lady Bolton approached, not wanting the dowager to find any fault with Emma due to her. Glancing over at Harry, she hated to admit how jealousy had overcome her seeing Mrs. Gardiner and Harry together here and at the menagerie. It was illogical. Mary, while a widow, was not Harry’s type. Before marrying, she had been the classic young miss out for a rich husband with no cares, except which new gown to wear. But watching Harry chuckle at something Mary said, made Louisa’s heart twist in ways she hadn’t thought possible. He seemed taken with Mary in a way Louisa hadn’t seen with any other woman.
And it was tearing her apart.
She should want the best for Harry. Mary was a good woman from a better family than hers. And Mary seemed to genuinely like Charlotte. Louisa stole another glance at Harry, who laughed again at something Mary said.
Oh dear Lord, was Tessa correct? Louisa spied him again and knew it was true. She was in love with Harry.
“Here is your wine,” Collingwood said as he returned. “I did tell the footman you would prefer the smallest glass.”
“Thank you.”
Damn him. Louisa wanted a large glass of wine followed by a snifter or two of brandy—anything to ease the pain of seeing Harry and Mary Gardiner together.
The poetry reading tortured her soul as the poet spoke of love, jealousy, and heartache. She pressed her lips together to keep from crying. It was not like her to be a jealous person. Or maybe she’d never had a reason to be envious before now.
Emma and Bolton whispered to each other with smitten smiles on their faces. Mary sat next to Harry, intimately close. While she couldn’t see them, she knew Tessa and Jack were a few rows behind them, most likely telling each other how they couldn’t wait for their child to be born.
Collingwood was a nice man but sitting next to him did nothing to her senses. He smelled, well...nice, not spicy, leathery, and wholly enticing like Harry. At one point during the reading, Collingwood’s thigh accidentally touched hers, and again, she felt nothing. Not one spark of desire.
Was this to be her lot in life?
