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“Does Mr. Dawson interest you?” Lady Satterfield’s query drew Nora from her fanciful thoughts. “He’s not wealthy, but I believe he’s comfortable enough. And he does have children, so you’d have to become an instant mother.” Her features softened. “I’ve done that myself, of course, and it’s wonderful.”
With Kendal. She’d become his mother when she’d married his widowed father. That much Nora had learned in the days since she’d moved to Lady Satterfield’s town house.
Nora didn’t think before saying the next thought that crossed her brain. “I heard someone talking about Kendal on the lake.” She cast Lady Satterfield a worried glance. She hadn’t meant to gossip, especially about the woman’s own son. Oh, she was worse than out of practice. She was hopeless. “My apologies. I shouldn’t repeat such things.”
Lady Satterfield laughed. “It’s hard to ignore talk about my stepson. Especially at an event like this.”
They reached the door to the house, and Nora followed Lady Satterfield into the drawing room. “Surely he should be able to attend a picnic without scrutiny?”
Lady Satterfield lifted a shoulder. “This is London, dear. An unmarried duke can’t do anything without scrutiny.”
“Lady Satterfield!” An older woman strode toward them. “I must speak with you. Is it true Kendal was here earlier? Is he finally on the hunt for a wife?”
Lady Satterfield turned to Nora. “Do you require assistance in the retiring room? It’s just through there down the corridor.” She gestured toward a doorway.
“No, I’ll be fine.” She suppressed a smile. “I’ll leave you to deal with…that.”
Lady Satterfield’s eyes sparkled with mirth as she whispered, “This could be fun.”
Nora had no idea what Lady Satterfield intended to say or do to make that encounter “fun,” but imagined she’d hear all about it later. She found the retiring room with ease and tended to the spot on her skirt. The outline of the stain was still there, but with treatment when they returned home, it would be salvageable.
She found herself in a strange room and realized she’d taken a wrong turn out of the retiring room. She spun on her heel and was about to retrace her steps when her heart lodged in her throat. There, blocking the doorway, was Lord Haywood, the very last person she ever wanted to see, never mind encounter alone.
He was as tall as she remembered, but he’d filled out a bit so that he didn’t seem as athletic as he’d been in her memory. And his pale hair was thinning. But his cobalt eyes were as vivid and alluring as ever. Those eyes had seduced her, along with the smile that was currently curving his thin lips.
Had she really found him devastatingly attractive once? Now he seemed utterly lacking, especially when compared with Kendal, the man who had somehow become Nora’s measuring stick for all other men.
The tension she’d felt on the lake returned tenfold as she searched for another way out of the small sitting room. There was another door, but she had no idea where it led. For all she knew, it was a closet and she’d be even more trapped than she already was.
“Miss Lockhart?” His deep voice rattled her already screaming nerves. “I had heard you were back in town. I’m so glad we’ve run into each other.” He crossed the room toward her, leaving the doorway accessible—provided she could get around him.
She knew she ought to be polite, perhaps act as though she didn’t even know him. But the pain and injustice of nine years surged through her. “I would prefer it if you never spoke to me.” She forced herself to move and made to barrel past him.
He snagged her elbow, drawing her to a stop near his side. He pivoted without releasing her. “There’s no call to be rude. I only wanted to say how lovely you look. It seems the country agrees with you.”
“Don’t you mean banishment?” she snapped. She wrenched her arm free and took a large step away from him. “I have nothing to say to you. Ever.”
“Pity, for I’d hoped we might rekindle our acquaintance.” His gaze raked her in a manner that left no doubt as to what he meant by “acquaintance.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re disgusting. And married. I ought to tell your wife.”
He laughed. “Tell her what? That you cornered me in a sitting room again? I imagine that will work out quite well for you a second time.”
“Go to the devil.” Nora resisted the urge to slap his smug face before she whirled about and stalked from the room.
She hurriedly made her way back to Lady Satterfield, passing the retiring room just as the door opened—and out walked Lady Abercrombie, whom Nora careened into.
Lady Abercrombie stepped back from her and brushed at her arm where they’d collided. “My goodness, you’re in a terrible hurry.”
Nora didn’t dare look behind her. If Haywood was in the corridor, and Lady Abercrombie saw her dashing away from him… Wait, how could that be bad?
Because this was London, and she was Lady Abercrombie. She would make it something bad.
Nora rubbed a hand over her own elbow where she’d crashed into Lady Abercrombie. It was a shame she hadn’t knocked the other woman down. “Please excuse me.”
She tried to walk more sedately to the drawing room, but her blood was rushing in her ears, and it felt as though she’d toppled out of the boat after all and was struggling to breach the surface of the water.
Lady Satterfield was waiting for her in the drawing room and was thankfully alone. When she saw Nora, a small crease formed between her brows. “Is something wrong? You look flushed.”
