“Miss Cavendish,” he said with a bow. “Perhaps you can tell me why Henrietta has run off.”
She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “As if you care!”
What was she on about?
“Listen, you cad! I don’t know what happened, but I’m convinced it’s your fault. Why would Henrietta run off with no explanation, crying!?”
He had a very good notion why. The Duchess of Valingford was why. Threats to Henrietta’s dream project, to her family, were why. But Grayson had his own unanswered “why”—why had she run off when he’d promised to fix everything? “Perhaps the Duchess of Valingford can answer your question.”
The lady in question gasped and grabbed her daughter’s arm. “Come, Willow. We will not stay here to be interrogated by a baron’s daughter.”
“A famous, celebrated baron’s daughter, thank you very much,” Ada snapped before sweeping a befuddled look Grayson’s way. “I don’t understand anything right now.”
“I’m rather lost myself,” Grayson assured her.
“I can help clarify.”
Grayson and Ada turned to the voice. Lady Willow had wrenched her arm from her mother’s grasp. “My mother and I are leaving. Lord Rigsby was seeing us off. And attempting to convince Mother he is not, in actuality, going to marry me. Or propose to me. A proposal must come first, after all.”
Ada frowned. “I … hm. Well.” She turned to Grayson. “You’re not marrying Lady Willow?”
“No,” Lady Willow and Grayson said together.
“Why, then, is Henrietta so unexpectedly on her way to London?” Ada asked Grayson. “I assume she’s headed to London and not, oh, Timbuktu, since she wouldn’t say a word about what drove her to flee. I also assume you are at the heart of the matter.” Ada’s eyes grew wide then narrowed. “Does she know you’re not marrying Lady Willow?”
“Yes,” he ground out.
“Huh.”
Lady Willow leaned forward and whispered, her gaze flicking over Ada’s shoulder to the guests sauntering down the stairs behind her. “Perhaps Miss Blake leaves out of shame.”
“What on earth do you mean?” Ada queried.
From what I can tell, though no one will speak frankly with me about it, Miss Blake and Lord Rigsby were caught in flagrante delicto by Mother. And—”
The coach and four shook with frustrated vibrations. “Willow, come,now.”
Lady Willow didn’t blink an eye or miss a beat. “It’s obviously why he’s decided not to propose to me. It can be the only reason, since no one counters my father’s commands. That I know of.”
“Willow!” the duchess screeched. “You will desist your unnecessary prattle this instant and join me in the coach!”
Lady Willow did not desist. “It’s how Lord Rigsby left me last night and greeted me this morning. No ‘How do you do’ for Willow, no siree. Only ‘Remember what I told you last night? It holds true today. I cannot propose to you. I love another.’ Getting suddenly unengaged when you’ve never been engaged to begin with is a lovely item to add to one’s list of daily activities. I highly recommend it.” She rolled her eyes and continued. “Though I should have seen it coming. We’ve never had the most scintillating conversations, and I think good conversation is a must for marriage.” She shrugged. “I think, but I cannot be sure. My parents never speak to one another unless they must. And Lord Rigsby has been curiously preoccupied with Miss Blake since we arrived.” She stared at them, calm, dispassionate. “And I heard Lady Pendleson mention a history between them, whatever that means—a romantic liaison, I assume, something scandalous I hope.” She frowned, then slowly, her face lit with a smile, as if the idea of scandal grew on her by the moment.
What an odd woman. It struck Grayson that he never truly knew her, despite months of paying attention to her. “I never meant to hurt you, Lady—”
She waved his apology away.
“It’s no matter, truly.” She turned to Miss Cavendish. “My parents chose him for my husband, not me. And I find being jilted before being proposed to has added a spice to life that has previously been missing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, if I don’t leave, I’m likely to bring the full wrath of the Duke of Valingford down on my head, and that will be much more painful than a broken nonengagement.” The carriage door closed behind her with a crash, and Grayson heard Lady Willow say, “Oh, you’ll not expire, Mother. At least he didn’t wait to jilt me after he’d proposed or, heaven forbid, at the altar.”
Where had this woman come from? This was not the same lady he’d begun courting two months ago. It was not the same lady he’d come to this house with.
“Were you really caught together?” Miss Cavendish asked.
He would not answer that.
“Well,” said Miss Cavendish. “Ahem. And by her grace!” She grimaced. “How unfortunate. Wait, Lord Rigsby!”
Her words flew to Grayson on the wind as he ran to the stables.
