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“It could be different people,” Charlotte suggested.
“It could well be,” she agreed. She motioned for Charlotte to leave. “You must go or you shall be late. Thank you for your help. If I can get Blake to contest the will, perhaps we can prove it false.”
“Always happy to help.” Charlotte grinned. “If you need me again, you know where I am.” She rolled her eyes. “Where I always am.”
No doubt arm deep in dough. Since last year, Charlotte had left the employ of Chastity’s husband and started her own bakery stall. They’d all tried to convince her to let them fund a little shop for her but she would not allow it. Demeter was certain Charlotte would do well, so tried not to worry for their friend.
“I’m off to visit Mr. Blake,” she announced to no one in particular after Charlotte left. She hadn’t walked today so she would use the short journey to Blake’s townhouse to unscramble her thoughts. Had she really missed something so obvious or was she leaping to conclusions purely because of what happened with Cassie?
After donning a bonnet and shawl, for the spring weather was changeable despite the warmth of the day, she had scarcely closed the front door behind her before spying Mr. Foster.
Head down, he turned upon his heel away from her. She frowned. He’d seen her, she was certain, and he’d been so interested in her before, so why would he ignore her? Perhaps their ‘engagement’ had done what Blake had hoped and scared him away. That did not stop her pursuing him, though. How much better it would be if she could go to Blake with some firm information,
A pang struck her and she shook her head at herself. Firm information might put an end to their association but it had to be done. After he’d confided in her the other day, she could not cease thinking on the painful thud of her heart. Blake was so much more than a rake and such information only made her love him more. How awful it would be to let herself be swept further into this mess.
“Mr. Foster,” she called, scurrying between two vehicles, and feeling the breeze whip her skirts about her ankles as wheels clattered past. “Mr. Foster.”
He finally stopped and turned, his usual smile slipping into place after a small delay. “Lady Demeter, I did not see you.”
“D-did you not? How strange. I thought you did.”
He motioned for them to keep walking so as not to dally together and she gasped when she spotted the bruise around his eye and swollen lip.
“Mr. Foster, what h-happened to you?”
“Oh a silly accident. Fell from a horse.”
Demeter had seen a few incidents of people—including her sisters—falling from horses but never had they suffered such wounds. it looked more like injuries sustained after a pugilistic match.
“What can I do for you, Lady Demeter?”
She sucked in a breath. Blake thought him dangerous and she had moments when she agreed but the only way to make progress was to be bold. “I’d heard you originally lived in the North, Mr. Foster.”
He came to a sudden halt and the smile fled from his lips. “Did you?”
“Y-yes.” She smiled quickly. “Some vague talk.”
“Why does that interest you, my lady?”
“Well, I was thinking of taking a tour of the area after the Season is finished,” she said quickly, “and I imagined you might be able to tell me where I should visit.”
“My cousin has agreed to this?”
Blast. She’d forgotten they were meant to be married. “Well, not yet, but m-maybe if you can tell me of some lovely places to go, he will be convinced we should honeymoon there.”
Mr. Foster stared at her for several moments and she imagined she heard her heart thud over the sound of passing vehicles. She held her breath and met his gaze while trying to maintain steady breathing. He must not see her lies.
Finally, that smile returned to his lips but his gaze remained strange and searching. “If I were Blake, I would take you on a tour of Europe. The North is grim, my lady, with few beautiful sights. You deserve to see only beautiful things, Lady Demeter.”
“I see,” she said quietly.
She’d visited several towns up north and wasn’t certain she agreed.
His words could be considered flattering, she supposed, but coming from Mr. Foster while his gaze roamed her in an erratic manner made a bitter taste rise in her throat. He left her feeling as though she wanted to flee his presence. Blake would call it instinct, no doubt.
“Well, I h-h-had better make haste, Mr. Foster. I am to meet with a friend.”
He jolted as though awakening from a daydream. “Of course.” He bowed deeply. “Good day, my lady.”
